They good-humoredly surrendered to my imprecations to photograph them; and I like to think that in at least some cases, as on this book’s cover, I was born to amble past them at that moment, and capture them in their beauty and truth and spontaneity.

On many other occasions, ethically more problematic, my subjects were unaware of my photographing them, precisely to capture more of that spontaneity. Often, afterward, I would head over and show them a copy of the shot—or at least what could be seen on a digital-camera viewfinder in sunlight and shadow. I do not remember an occasion when they were less than pleased and flattered by what I presented them. At other times, I didn’t display the results. May I offer them here nonetheless? A litmus test in selecting from those candid and unselfconscious shots was whether I would happily show them to the subjects, if it were possible. In only a few cases has it been possible to secure formal permission from subjects to present their images here. But I trust I have done so respectfully and lovingly throughout.

The large majority of the images were captured with a Sony Mavica FD4 digital camera, a paltry 4.2 megapixels (are we into triple figures by now?), which I nonetheless found could be printed at 8x10 with more breathtaking resolution than anything I had accomplished with film photography. I have now upgraded to the 7.2 megapixel Sony Cybershot DSC-H5, but I will probably stop there: who wants to cover a wall with the results? Digital photography has its quirks, but the production and post-production control it gives to the photographer is unparalleled. I love the depth of it, and the way it looks on a computer screen, illuminated from behind and glowingly three-dimensional.

I never took a class in Spanish, but I have immersed myself in the language, and take pleasure in having mastered it sufficiently to communicate comfortably with my subjects, even to some extent those in Portuguese-speaking Brazil. Likewise, I have never formally studied photography, but I hope I have picked up a facility along the way. My strategies are fairly straightforward. They depend on a zen-like alertness to the dramatically personal, the extraordinarily ordinary—usually for quite concentrated periods: I go out in a mood to photograph, more often, or at least with better results, than I keep a camera on hand to capture the unexpected moment. When I photograph children, I like to get down flat to their level (I’m six-foot-three), so that a kid half my size becomes monumental and iconic. I like taking photographs of older people. Sue me, but I probably display a disproportionate readiness to photograph beautiful women—again, sometimes feeling like I’ve been born to appreciate their beauty, which may not always be your vision of female beauty. I think there are some very beautiful men and boys in here as well. I also take a lot of landscape and façade shots, but these I hope to compile in a separate volume.

The fact that (to my eyes) a ravishing two-dimensional representation of my Latin American people shots has been rendered, I owe to The Key Publishing Co., especially the book’s fine designer, Olga Lagounova. This book is dedicated to my dear friend Rick Feingold, who accompanied me on several of the journeys represented here and has consistently encouraged my photographic pursuits.