... art is images you carry. You cannot carry nature with you, but you carry images of nature. When you go out to make a picture you find you are moved by something which is in agreement with an image you already held within yourself.
Words represent images: nothing can be said for which there is no image.
My photographs are not pure: they are a seething wealth of imperfection.
Art and accident are one.
Art accepts what it finds.
Life itself is not the reality. We are the ones who put life into stones and pebbles.