Please note: This is a companion version & not the original book. Book Preview:
#1 I never intentionally made a creative photograph that related directly to an environmental issue, though I am greatly pleased when a picture I have made becomes useful to an important cause. I cannot command the creative impulse on demand. I go out into the world and hope I will come across something that interests me.
#2 I can still remember the light and the scene that was present when I was a child. I constantly return to the elements of nature that surrounded me in my childhood, both the vision and the mood.
#3 I was born in San Francisco in 1902. My father was building a house on the dunes out beyond the Golden Gate, which was thirty years before the famous bridge was built to connect San Francisco to Marin County. I could see ships of every description enter and leave the embrace of the Golden Gate.
#4 My father took a daily carriage from the end of the cable car line at Presidio Avenue to our home. On April 17, 1906, my father was away on business in Washington, D. C. Our Chinese cook, Kong, slept in the basement. That evening, the boom of the surf pounding on Baker Beach woke me up.
#1 I never intentionally made a creative photograph that related directly to an environmental issue, though I am greatly pleased when a picture I have made becomes useful to an important cause. I cannot command the creative impulse on demand. I go out into the world and hope I will come across something that interests me.
#2 I can still remember the light and the scene that was present when I was a child. I constantly return to the elements of nature that surrounded me in my childhood, both the vision and the mood.
#3 I was born in San Francisco in 1902. My father was building a house on the dunes out beyond the Golden Gate, which was thirty years before the famous bridge was built to connect San Francisco to Marin County. I could see ships of every description enter and leave the embrace of the Golden Gate.
#4 My father took a daily carriage from the end of the cable car line at Presidio Avenue to our home. On April 17, 1906, my father was away on business in Washington, D. C. Our Chinese cook, Kong, slept in the basement. That evening, the boom of the surf pounding on Baker Beach woke me up.
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