“Documentary photography records the social sense of our time. It mirrors the present, recalls the past, and documents for the future. Its focus is man in his relation to mankind. It records his customs at work, at war, at play, or his round of activities through the twenty-four hours of the day, the cycle of seasons, or the span of a life. It portrays his institutions-family, church, government, political organizations, social clubs, and labor unions. It shows not merely their facades, but seeks to reveal the manner in which they function, absorb life, hold the loyalty, and influence the behavior of human beings. It is pre-eminently suited to build a record of change. Documentary photography stands on its own merits and has validly by itself.”  - Dorothea Lange

The work of American photographer Dorothea Lange has provided one of the most committed social documentaries of photography in our century. As a member of the Farm Security Administration (FSA) photographic unit under Roy Stryker, Dorothea Lange photographed migrant workers, sharecroppers, tenant farmers, and other victims of the Depression in 22 states, primarily in the South and West, between 1935 and 1942

Her work was in my mind when I leapt into The Big Picture, Volume 1 for the Tampa Public Art Documentary. I would approach it not as a travelogue, nor as a series of snapshots, but as a documentary. Dorothea Lange once said that documentary photography is a mirror to ourselves. My job would be to hold up a mirror to Tampa.

Like Dorothea Lange, I would not set up pictures or arrange people in photogenic groups though I would often seek permission first. (She wrote: "Hands off! I do not molest what I photograph, I do not meddle and I do not arrange.") I would photograph life as it happened in front of me. But before that moment I would watch and observe through the lens, composing my pictures through the viewfinder, and choosing the exposure for what it would reveal.

With that in mind, I set off on a journey of discovery. To me, Tampa seemed like a cousin I only saw on holidays. I had lived next to Tampa for most of my 37 years but never really got to know the city, I was familiar with the usually things -- the malls, Hyde Park, several restaurants and some friends’ homes. I rarely traveled outside those boundaries when I was in Tampa.

But soon I got to know a Tampa I had never seen before. In the process I crossed the bridge 72 times, driving more than 3,200 miles. I spent more than 900 hours photographing, editing, cataloguing images and writing.

Everyone’s Tampa is different. What is presented is the Tampa I saw. It is not all of Tampa; it would be impossible to photograph the entire city. Tampa is a living, breathing entity that is constantly changing. It would take years to create a photographic record of Tampa, and still it would remain incomplete.

The mind is like a photo album filled with images of our life experiences. Some images are disturbing, some happy; most are just ordinary. What I do as a documentary photographer is collect these experiences. Sometimes I do more listening than photographing. But always I am observing and documenting. In twenty years, what seems banal today will be history.

As I ranged across Tampa, I met people. Downtown it seemed people were more likely to avoid me, to turn down my request to photograph them. In neighborhoods, I shared more conversations with folks in their front yards than anywhere else. There people wanted to know what I was working on. When I told them, they were interested in the project.

In some neighborhoods people were out and about living life on their front porches and willing to be photographed and often invited me to dinner. In other areas I often had a hard time finding people at all (were they in their backyards?), and when I did, some were skeptical of me even with credentials. Not all, mind you, but some.

All the people I spoke to loved their city. I asked everybody similar questions about why they liked Tampa. Most said that they liked Tampa’s diversity and it’s size—just right for meeting new people on a regular basis.

A wonderful part of the project was the people I met. Once I explained the Public Art project they all suggested places for me to go and record. Or eat: I tried to eat at every restaurant that was recommended to me. My map is colored with yellow, pink and orange highlighter marks, folded and unfolded thousands of times. The creases are frayed and worn away in spots. I treasure it like a medal of honor.

I can look at each image and tell you about that day. I can tell you how I felt, where I traveled, who I met, and if I captured a special moment.

Eudora Welty once said about her own photographs of Mississippi, published in One Time, One Place, “ They’re not meant to be an editorial…but they are important because they are a record.” I am documenting one time and one place which tomorrow will be gone.

Not everyone will see what I saw and I accept that. But they will see something about Tampa’s character, it’s people, and it’s places. And because looking at photographs is completely subjective, everyone will see something slightly different –something of their Tampa.

Without the assistance of friends I would not have been able to complete this amazing project, my special thanks to: Clint Page, Scott Kirkhuff, Chuck Vosburgh, Kenny Irby, Barry Fitzsimmons, Jeff Saffon, Jack Rowland, Carol Cleere, Mary Anne Alderson, the Ganters, Bob Croslin, Larry Larson, Bruce Marsh, the entire team at Zebra Color Photo Lab, and my family.