fins & fenders

Instead of going to heaven, I'm convinced that all antique cars go to Montana. During the summer of 2003, I could not escape them. They were rusting in fields, at the gas pump behind me, revving their engines next to me at stoplights and at the never-ending stream of car shows. Before my magical summer of 2003, I didn't give antique cars more than a glance. Something inexplicable, however, happened to me that summer. I blame it on being surrounded by them. It was unavoidable, inescapable that I began to truly see these beauties. Their lines and brilliant colors, like the sirens of mythology, beckoned me. Truly I didn't have a choice but to attempt to capture a little bit of the spirit of each one. I didn't want to photograph cars and fought this urge - even placing a ban on myself from photographing another automobile. The ban lasted 9 days when I finally succumbed and aimed the camera at an abandoned Buick....