When Eric was 16 he borrowed his father's camera traipsing through the woods behind their home, walking along dirt roads in the hills above their house, looking—always looking. Eric supposes that’s what he's doing today—walking and looking and trying to see the way that others have seen, as he attempts to see, un-see, and re-see: making all things both foreign and new. Making a small space in each photo he takes, room for the viewer, a place of both welcome and challenge. Every image is a poem. Every scene has a kind of structure. The capture of a place, for instance, involves decisions of narrative perspective (where to look, from what position), of cadence (beats, breaks, a line beneath the sky), of tone. And just like a poem, the effective image compresses emotional experience into a single, small expression.
