I came to New York to go to school and somehow never left.
I got into photography by accident. I went to Barnard College in New York City, graduated with a degree in architectural history, spent a year working in publishing and then applied to art school. Pratt Institute gave a home test to get in, and one of the questions was to “do something in the medium in which you feel most competent,” which I could only interpret as “do something in the medium in which you feel least incompetent.” By then I had some photographer friends and they told me what to shoot and how to shoot it. As for the other requirements on the test, I used Larry Rivers' advice: “if you can’t draw, trace.”
With what could only be described as a schizophrenic portfolio, I was miraculously accepted. Because I already had a BA, Pratt suggested I do three catch-up undergrad semesters and then go for an MFA in Interior Design. That seemed related to architectural history, so I figured what the hell.
I wound up taking a photography class as an elective—thinking it a good way to document design details--and for the first time actually liked using a camera.