My fascination with the toy camera began in grad school in the late 1980’s when a friend gave the gift of a “Sunpet” toy camera. Soon
after, I discovered the Diana camera, and its relatives, and have been photographing with it ever since. These cameras bring back memories of my first childhood camera: the Kodak “Keystone” a 126-drop in cartridge camera with a flash cube on top, purchased with a fist full
of Green Stamps when I was seven.

This series of photographs represent the brevity of a spring moment. They’re meditations on ephemeral light, an exquisite landscape, or a
flowering branch within my urban midst. Trees look their most glorious in the spring when they explode with color and delicate blossoms. They provide a welcome rest and a visual break from the congestion of city living. These places were found by chance while walking in a
neighborhood, or visiting botanical gardens, parks, and arboretums within several cities.  The “Rain House” was made while sitting in the
car watching rain pour onto the windshield.

Although the toy camera may be humorous or quirky to use, I’ve come to respect it as a valid picture-making tool.  I like how the plastic
lens interprets light: halos and spectrums of color and soft luminous glare.  Emerging out of a vignetted darkness, the image appears as if
radiating from the center of the picture. It reminds me of seeing with my glasses off: a soft focus world with pointelles of light and vague shapes of color, an imperfect image.