Most collectors are facinated by the life of an object- it's journey through making, use, discard, recovery, and re-collection. Not me. I have collected many thousands of images and I know almost nothing about their history. All I know, and all I want to know, is that I crossed paths with the image and, at least for the moment, it's destiny was to become part of my collection. This is not to say decisions were not made. With any collection, there are choices that have to be made. What deserves attention? What should be kept? What should be ignored? Where is the signal and where is the noise? Unlike most collectors, I am drawn to the noise. Imagery that seems to have little, or no, asthetic or hisorical value. The clumsy accidents like the thumb, or drunken snap shot at a party, or the static documentation of a random convention or lecture. I believe that these images are on the verge of being forgotten and drifting into formlessness. I look here, on the edge of formlessness, because I believe something (that I cannot yet define) has been lost and if there are any traces that have survived, this is where I will find them. In the images I have collected I detect an aura. There is something here that wants to be preserved and, if I am lucky, revived and expressed. My process is about trying to create value from these discarded bits of trash by analyzing, reflecting, manipulating, combining and re-combining them. I identify with these discarded bits, and perhaps (on a cosmic level) I am performing a ritual that will ultimately lead my own life from the edge of formlessness to a life of clarity,identity, and beauty.