I've studied the history of art, and especially photography enough to have a certain aesthetic stamped on my brain. A certain set of expectations about how a photograph should look. Some admixture of Bresson, Kertesz, and Atget, I suppose, when I'm in Europe at least. Sometimes, though, the reality in front of you appears not to align with what the art historians have written. Luckily, I took the shot anyway, and over time I've come to accept this photograph for what it is. There really was a lot of goose shit and old feathers in the water that day.
