Description PHOTOS FROM FOUND REFLECTIONS(MY MAY 2007 SHOW AT CAFE BESALU IN SEATTLE)It sounds dogmatic. But there are rules. Two basic rules, really: I can move my camera. I can't move anything else. No telling anyone where to stand. No clear-cutting forests to let more sunlight into a scene. And, in the case of these images, no manipulating reflections by re-parking shiny cars or tilting mirrors or spilling photogenic puddles of motor oil on public sidewalks. These rules are really just habits I've embraced. They heighten the central joy I've found in photography: the energizing sense that whatever made me want to take a picture may be gone by the time I've focused my lens and decided how much light to let into my camera. I miss stuff. Often. Still, the Gods of Light and Shiny Surfaces are unreasonably generous. Take August 27, 2006. My kids and I are loitering in a grassy lot on Ballard Avenue as the farmers' market shuts down. A vendor has leaned a mirror against the bags that hold her wares. My kids go up to look into it. I take a few pictures. The vendor asks us to please stand back while she collapses her white canopy. We do. She does. But as she does, there's a sharp noise of the canopy smacking into the mirror. I offer a bag for the shards. The vendor, utterly unfazed, grabs some packing tape to hold the mirror together. My kids approach again. Suddenly, without having violated any of my rules, I am standing in front of a wrecked object that reflects back at me a sort of collage of everything around me that I most want to squeeze into a single photo.