It started in the late eighties. I was walking around the Market Theatre and managed to get my hands on a sea-water damaged Minolta Dynax. There was no risk that it was going to work ever again but I hung it around my neck regardless and strutted around feeling like the coolest person ever. In all honesty I haven't gotten rid of that feeling, and for quite a few years now my cameras have actually worked!!!

For years thereafter my friend and I got around taking pix and making a right nuisance of ourselves. We snuck in - and got chucked out of - quite a few places. Homeless haunts, cemeteries and derelict landmarks like Turbine Hall and the old Gasworks in Jo'burg were considered fair game. I have a blurry picture where I nearly got run over by the Knysna Choo-Tjoe whilst wandering the line.

At some stage during the late nineties I realized that my medical aid wouldn't pay for a lobotomy and the writing was on the wall that I wouldn't survive much longer in my accidental IT career. I got married to a remarkable woman, took time off to study photography formally, fathered twin-girls, screwed up the photography for by best friends wedding, photographed people, animal, vegetable and mineral, moved to Cape Town, sent out a lot of mails, knocked on a whole lot of doors, and met a whole lot of great people.

I do, as they say in Japan - 'Take Photo'