This restaurant offers its patrons a spectacular view of Sedona's famous "red rock" scenery. These people are dining on a summer evening in an open-air space, surrounded by a surreal view that would seem impossible to take for granted. At dusk, a setting sun paints the panoramic sweep of ancient cliffs in light, shadow, and color. Misters at the edges of the roof make a warm evening much cooler, and add a gauzy effect to the scene. My photograph contrasts this mass of diners, and their servers who walk among them, to the incredible scenery that lines the horizon in the background. The image offers a frame within a frame to guide the eye, and the pair of servers at left and right create a base for the triangular composition that draws the eye to the pointed peak in the background.

Everyone appears to be absorbed in their food and conversation. None seem to consider what surrounds them at this moment, except for us who view this photograph. We can see both diners and scenery at the same time, and it is this contrast that brings incongruity to this image. Dozens of these diners, surrounded by the stuff of dreams, may be taking the spectacular view for granted at this moment, yet many of them will likely walk away remembering the experience.

This image began with an attempt to simply capture a pair of hummingbirds lunching at a group of feeders. I needed not only to stop motion and freeze them in time -- I also wanted to integrate the birds into the design of the photo itself. I needed to place a bird on each side of the frame in order to unify the image, creating a diagonal composition leading the eye through the feeders from one bird to the other. Incredibly, I caught the bird on the left as it was incongruously suspended in space behind a feeder, making it seem as if it is caught within it. Obviously luck plays a huge role in such an incongruity. I shot fifty images of this scene and later found this image among them. Because of this incongruity, this photograph was the only one of them that goes beyond description, and instead stimulates the imagination of the viewer.

The buildings of this Spanish military outpost, dating back to 1782, have been either restored or reconstructed. As I ended my tour, I entered a room that was a family’s living quarters, and this incongruous vision greeted me. This life sized painting fills a board six five feet tall. The figure itself is striking in its color and gesture. A hole appears where the face should be, which tells us that the painting is there for to visitors take “selfies” of themselves transformed into an 18th century woman. My photograph of this figure without a face tells an entirely different story. It becomes a painting of a person forever lost to memory. The painting throws a large shadow on to the wall behind it, making the hole where the face should be darker and more ghostly and incongruous than expected. I also placed the figure off to one side of my frame, implying that the painting stands alone within an utterly empty room.

More than 15,000 Union prisoners of war are buried here, many of them dying of malnutrition and disease at the notorious Andersonville Confederate Prison Camp within a space of only 14 months during 1864 and 1865. This massive toll is grimly expressed here by the rows of grave markers spaced only inches apart. So many died so quickly that burial space was sharply limited. I place these strangely compacted rows of graves in the foreground of this image, and incongruously contrast them to the normal spacing of later burials placed in soft focus, and moving in a different direction, within the background. I organized this image in layers, beginning with the sharply focused grave markers in the foreground, and gradually fading them into softer focus as they recede. A lone tree separates the rows of older markers from the newer burials behind them. In the distant background, a red wall encloses the acres of stones, separating them from a stand of trees. This is a scene of death juxtaposed with life, a poignant reminder of the savage war that tore the United States apart 150 years ago.

The life sized elephant stands along side of Highway US 41 – the Tamiami Trail – to draw attention to a local auto repair business. It is a double incongruity in itself – an animal that never moves, and is painted a shocking pink. Its sheer scale never fails to draw the eye of passing motorists. We stopped and I walked across the road to place the pink elephant in a layered composition that places it into a context. A layer of weeds leads to the highway itself, and then to a layer featuring the elephant, advertising signage, and an assortment of cars and trucks backed up next to a forest.

The shelter at the very end of the Naples Fishing Pier offers an incongruous gathering place for both man and bird. At sunset, this shelter becomes a busy place, as fishermen fish, tourists stroll, and seagulls and terns wait patiently for handouts from both. I abstract my image, placing the sun behind the shelter’s roof, and stress the row of seven birds poised for potential free snacks. By comparing that row of small birds on the roof to the row of large human heads gathered below them, I create an incongruous juxtaposition of silhouetted shapes.