I've been called a lot of things: dreamer, explorer, pilgrim, heretic, charlatan and fool—and those just the printable ones. I've always preferred "writer." 
      Painting pictures with words was my first love—my creative weapon of choice as early as I can remember—and probably the reason I eventually became all those other things.

     I've made a living by communicating—as a graphic designer, art director and photographer. In 1991, I was one of the partners in a successful San Francisco advertising agency. I had been blessed with a nine-year-old son, a beautiful pregnant wife and what looked like a bright future. Life had other plans. The firestorm in the Oakland Hills spared my family but took everything else,  precipitating a spiritual disruption that would last more than a decade and coax me to far corners of the Earth. 

     My journey began with a pilgrimage across the Himalaya to Mt. Kailash in Western Tibet and culminated with a near-death-rebirth in Makkah, Sa'udi Arabia—in unexpected intimacy with two million ecstatic hajjis looking for Divine guidance in a sacred place. It was during this personal upheaval and reorientation that I came to fully appreciate Alfred Korzybski's admonition:

     The map is not the territory.

     The map within has led me to some strange territories, indeed—wild, stunning, mystical places most people will never see. While I've photographed everything at which I could safely or decently point my camera, I still believe that the written word is the most powerful form of imagery—and still the expression I love most. And writing has taught me the difference between telling a story from experience in the actual territory or relying on a map.

     So, I invite you to read and view my work, travel with me to exotic destinations of the mind and imagination, share my observations on life's sacred and profane aspects and then decide for yourself if a picture is worth a thousand words. 

     Or vise versa.