You can tell a good ruined lens, right from the get-go.... That’s the kind of lens I'm looking for.

I can think of numberless males, from Bonnard to Callahan, who have photographed their lovers and spouses, but I am having trouble finding parallel examples among my sister photographers. The act of looking appraisingly at a man, making eye contact on the street, asking to photograph him, studying his body, has always been a brazen venture for a woman, though, for a man, these acts are commonplace, even expected.

Photographs open doors into the past, but they also alloq a look into the future

Sometimes I think the only memories I have are those that I’ve created around photographs of me as a child. Maybe I’m creating my own life. I distrust any memories I do have. They may be fictions, too.

If I could be said to have any kind of aesthetic, it's sort of a magpie aesthetic - I just go and pick up whatever is around. If you think about it, the children were there, so I took pictures of my children. It's not that I'm interested in children that much or photographing them - it's just that they were there.

It's always been my philosophy to try to make art out of the everyday and ordinary...it never occurred to me to leave home to make art.

When the good pictures come, we hope they tell truths, but truths 'told slant,' just as Emily Dickinson commanded.