Last night in Carcès, France, the village where we live for part of each year, a show of my work on the local wine industry opened. I was a nervous wreck practicing my necessary yet necessarily brief comments. It was all very rewarding, though — more than 60 prints in a gallery space above an old olive mill that has since been renovated to house the local library. Many of the local people who have been the subjects of my lens and the victims of my stumbling French honored me by attending.

Here's the poster for the event. Betsy took the picture of me on the masthead with the Lightscoop.