Every day for more than 35 years I have photographed something. From the flurry of a strike or a demonstration of people calling for their rightful rights to a simple still life of a child's lost glove or a flower bursting into color, a day without a photograph is like not having my morning coffee.
For the last 20 years I have worked for labor unions and non-profits whose work I admire. Before that I shot only for myself, occasionally showing and always enjoying.
I like to think that when I photograph people I see who they are, not who I want them to be. Each assignment, each photograph is new. No matter how mundane -- the speaker at the podium, the people talking around the table -- I look for what is different.
A well-known photographer, writing in her journal about photographing poverty and other abysmal conditions, noted: "you find you are getting glib with your hands." It is a trap I try to stay out of.