Paris, my most cherished muse, always exists as a series of vignettes for me, never as monuments and/or people. My Paris lives and breathes in the streets, the odd close-up of a statue; so many ways of showing the city without its make-up. Paris is always and never the same, and my lens cannot get enough of its shapes and textures and surfaces. I always try to paint a picture of Paris that gives an indication of its smell and taste, and the way the breeze blows across from the Right Bank to the Left Bank. Paris is a beautiful nude, all air and dreams and architecture. I will never tire of exploring her and portraying her in a million ways.  Paris is the city of my photographic dreams.
Arles, her neighbor to the south is Provence at its best. A mecca for photographers, home of Rencontres D’Arles, filled with fascinating people and images ripe for the plucking. The scents of lavender, Pastis, olives, and aioli fill the air and joy in the simple life of a lovely village fills one's heart.

Sleepy Versailles, with its glittering tiara of a chateau and geometric grounds, seems haunted by its former inhabitants  - one can almost hear the footfalls of Louis XIV along the corridors, and catch glimpses of his baroque entourage in the hall of mirrors.  It is a place of memories and history, excess and poetry. 

Richelieu and Chinon, in the Loire Valley, situated along the Loire River, are set among the vineyards and rolling hills of the area.  Although I generally am not captivated by rural settings, the fairy tale quality and simplicity of these towns and their inhabitants charmed me into creating a portrait of the area. 

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