Where there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with read more

Where there is perhaps a province in which the photograph can tell us nothing more than what we see with our own eyes, there is another in which it proves to us how little our eyes permit us ro see.

Unlike any other visual image, a photograph is not a rendering, an imitation or an interpretation of its subject, but read more

Unlike any other visual image, a photograph is not a rendering, an imitation or an interpretation of its subject, but actually a trace of it. No painting or drawing, however naturalist, belongs to its subject in the way that a photograph does.

There is only you and your camera. The limitations in your photography are in yourself, for what we see is read more

There is only you and your camera. The limitations in your photography are in yourself, for what we see is what we are.

I always thought of photography as a naughty thing to do -- that was one of my favorite things about read more

I always thought of photography as a naughty thing to do -- that was one of my favorite things about it, and when I first did it, I felt very perverse.

There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.

There are always two people in every picture: the photographer and the viewer.

If the man who paints only the tree, or flower, or other surface he sees before him were an artist, read more

If the man who paints only the tree, or flower, or other surface he sees before him were an artist, the king of artists would be the photographer. It is for the artist to do something beyond this.

Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still.

Photography takes an instant out of time, altering life by holding it still.

The virtue of the camera is not the power it has to transform the photographer into an artist, but the read more

The virtue of the camera is not the power it has to transform the photographer into an artist, but the impulse it gives him to keep on looking.

The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental; it rejects the read more

The charm, one might say the genius, of memory is that it is choosy, chancy and temperamental; it rejects the edifying cathedral and indelibly photographs the small boy outside, chewing a hunk of melon in the dust.