This man, running along the wet sand at the edge of Mission Beach, suddenly stopped in his tracks. He could run no further. He pulls his shirt to his face to absorb the sweat that is dripping into his yes. He has been running to the point of exhaustion, and this image makes a point about his effort. The picture works even more effectively because his efforts contrast to man in the Hawaiian shirt who is seated in the shade of a beach umbrella. He is not mopping any sweat from his brow – instead he relaxes in relative comfort. Together, this contrast between exhaustion and relaxation works to tell my story here. My long narrow crop intensifies that contrast.

I photographed this woman doing her Yoga routine at the edge of the sea for about ten minutes. Most of my images of her were simply studies in gesture, but this one went well beyond to symbolize the linkage between mankind and the sea. Just she gracefully gestured with her hands, a large wave spontaneously arrives, and fills the space behind her. My image speaks of more than just a Yoga gesture – it pays homage to the very origins of mankind itself: the sea.

When we photograph people in real-life situations, we never know what may happen. I certainly found this to be true in the case of this particular image. Four people were approaching the ocean and stopped to chat at the water’s edge. One of them was a young boy. Kids often offer us spontaneous displays of energy, and this child was no exception. While holding on to his father’s hand, he incongruously jumped into the air. I caught him here at the very peak of his leap. His display of energy contrasts to the static posture of his elders. He resembles a jumping jack, a toy figure of a man with moveable limbs.

I was working at my desk when I happened to glance up and gaze out to sea. I saw fifteen people wading into the sea simultaneously – quite a gathering within a very small space of a very large ocean. I picked up my camera and began shooting the group from our balcony as its various members waded towards the incoming surf. Photos such as this are difficult to organize within the frame – some of the figures are bound to overlap and create confusing mergers. Fortunately, I was able to make most of these waders appear as separate entities by waiting for spaces to appear between all but three of these waders. We call the space appearing between things in photographs “negative space.” It creates separation, tension, and in this case, a repeating pattern. I anchor the photo by including the two people still standing in the wet sand, along with the person carrying a surfboard just to their left. The horizontal beach at the bottom of the frame echoes the incoming horizontal wave at the top. The ocean itself is churning mass of glistening water, unifying the entire image. All of these people are abstracted by the angle of the late afternoon sun, and I intensify that abstraction by later converting the image to black and white.

As the last light of the day illuminates the incoming tide, a continual parade of silhouetted beachgoers become abstract photographic subjects. I abstract them even further by converting this photograph to black and white. This grouping of five women became surprisingly incongruous when the last person in this file spontaneously burst into a little dance step. Just as she crossed one leg with another, the woman in front of her reached for her head with a hand. The leaders of group – spaced well ahead of them -- don’t see any of this eloquent body language, but we do.

Two couples engage in conversation at water’s edge on a golden evening in San Diego. I made numerous images of this gathering, primarily because of the atmospheric light and the mood it created. I fill the background with softly focused golden surf, and lead in to the couples with a stretch of warmly illuminated sand. We see three of the four people in profile. More importantly, we are drawn to the gesture of the man in the middle – his outstretched hand and extended thumb tell us that he is the center of attention here.