I can't tell any longer how I got into photography. The stories I used to tell about how I THOUGHT I became a photographer don't quite ring true to me, and the question sometimes seems on par with asking how I became a man:
I started out young and grew into it, I want to answer.
Obviously in the process of making photographs I long for something that is not yet complete, that I would like to consummate for myself a different way each time I approach it, and photographs, with their borders that cut things off and parcel the world into squares and rectangles, mid-stride, mid-action, seem on their way to completing a thought only a viewer can help complete.
The same is true of all visual arts I think, but not with the same pressure on our sense of what is real that photography puts on us.