||fins & fenders
Instead of going to heaven, I'm convinced that all
antique cars go to Montana. During the summer of 2003, I could not
escape them. They were rusting in fields, at the gas pump behind
me, revving their engines next to me at stoplights and at the never-ending
stream of car shows. Before my magical summer of 2003, I didn't give
antique cars more than a glance. Something inexplicable, however,
happened to me that summer. I blame it on being surrounded by them.
It was unavoidable, inescapable that I began to truly see these beauties.
Their lines and brilliant colors, like the sirens of mythology, beckoned
me. Truly I didn't have a choice but to attempt to capture a little
bit of the spirit of each one. I didn't want to photograph cars and
fought this urge - even placing a ban on myself from photographing
another automobile. The ban lasted 9 days when I finally succumbed
and aimed the camera at an abandoned Buick....