Finding a photograph is often like picking up a piece from a jigsaw-puzzle box with the cover missing. There’s no sense of the whole. Each image is a mysterious part of something not yet revealed.

If Instagram had been available when I was working in Nicaragua in 1978, I'm sure I would have wanted to use it as a way of reporting directly from the streets during the insurrection.

The camera is an excuse to be someplace you otherwise don't belong. It gives me both a point of connection and a point of separation.

We know photographers make frames, but we deeply believe they can also create frameworks.

I'm deeply interested in the photograph as a record of an encounter and enjoy putting myself in a timeline of image-makers, alongside other travelers, such as anthropologists, colonists, missionaries, even tourists. I do that to emphasize subjectivity, rather than privilege any single perspective - I see myself as only one of many storytellers.

For a long time I've lived with the inadequacy of that frame to tell everything I knew, and I think a lot about what is outside of the frame.

I see myself in [the] tradition of encounter and witness - a witness that sees the photograph as evidence.