In Black and White

We recently took a trip to the west coast of Florida and stayed in Sarasota. It’s such a different place from where we live now — there are a hundred times more choices than we have here, for just about everything. Sarasota is vibrant, thriving, and wonderfully diverse.

On this trip, we visited the newly opened Mote Aquarium. Three floors of science and aquatic life — we were in heaven. We stood there, mouths open, as sharks and fish drifted overhead in the massive tank above us. We smiled and laughed at the playfulness of the penguins. The creatures and colors of the underwater world are astonishing.

But I’m one of those strange creatures on land who sees the world in black and white. No, I’m not color-blind — but ever since I got my first camera as a kid and began shooting black-and-white film, something shifted. Shadows, shapes, contrast — they became the language I connected to emotionally. That way of seeing never left me.

I move through the world cutting it into rectangles and squares in my mind — boxes of light and dark, corners and curves, sharp edges and fading lines. I don’t see them in color. I see them only in tone and shape. And when I lift a camera to my eye, the photograph appears in black and white before I even press the shutter.

The images on this page are the emotion of what I saw that day. They are the visual expression of how it felt to stand in that aquarium — surrounded by the quiet beauty of the ocean world.

If you get the chance, go see the Mote. See it in color or in black and white. I’ll leave that part up to you.