In the hot early Orlando summer of 93, I spent most of my evenings sitting in Wall Street Plaza.  Back then, it was the central hub of all things that rejected conformity, and being located in the middle of downtown in The Happiest City on Earth, all that angst and rebellion was bound to clash with the establishment.  A crackdown on the area by the police, who were charged with the most difficult job of all (keeping people from being themselves when they’re not breaking any obvious laws), combined with factions of fascists, racists, hippies, punks, goths and more created a tense environment where anything could happen.

 

I couldn’t turn my eyes away.  Soon, I realized that I had to capture it on film, went out and bought my first 35mm, a Pentax SF1/n, and started carrying it with me everywhere.  Much of my early work is documentary, and it even shows in my early studio work: there’s a sense that I’m documenting something as much as I’m involving myself in the process.  Subjective journalism.

 

Eventually, that all changed.  Wall Street Plaza ceased to be what it was.  Still, many of the friendships and memories I formed then remain with me.  Now I do mostly studio work, some location shooting, but often with that same look that I remember in the eyes of the clashing punks over a dozen years ago.