Since the late 1960’s,
I’ve been doing my own brand of fine art photography
and it’s always been a great source of joy for me.
Drop me almost anywhere there’s nice light
and I can happily get lost for hours in the visuals around me.
That began to change when the movement disorder
known as Parkinson's Disease (PD) arrived,
like a loud, uninvited house guest who won't ever leave.
First I got a hand tremor. Oh, great. Shakiness.
Just what a photographer needs.
Then, my photography muse, who’d been with me for years,
took off without leaving a forwarding address.
I soon lost interest in the whole thing.
Rarely venturing out to shoot and bored with the results.
Darkness filled my viewfinder.
Then one night,
on the Las Vegas Strip of all places,
I began to see the light!
And there, before me, appeared a new, improved muse,
who leaned in and whispered,
"Silly boy! Don't fight it - use it!"
I began to let the tremor have its way as I clicked the shutter.