Wednesday, Dec. 26, 2007 | 6:47 a.m.
Long before my days at the Sun, or even before journalism had crossed my mind, there was a nocturnal itch that would always drive me to the farthest and darkest places in Nevada.
People I knew called me a night owl - they weren't wrong. For a couple of years I wouldn't break out the camera during the day, under any circumstances.
Las Vegas to me is a city of night. Nothing really happens until the sun goes down and the lights go on. And because of the difficulty of night photography, I felt I challenged my limits by going out after dark. Making long exposures often creates the most dramatic lighting effects in photography, turning the real into the surreal and revealing a landscape that is usually passed unseen.
Being a night-owl photographer in Las Vegas is similar to being a kid on a playground. I'm continually drawn to the visually rich palettes of the neon-saturated Strip, the retired mining town of Nelson Landing in the nearby desert or, a bit farther out, some of the darkest and loneliest places on Earth.
Most nights, that's where you'll find me - if you bring a flashlight.
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