Do you see, mesdames et messieurs, the contents of my shop? It is full of great works. The human spirit has been squeezed dry by their creation. They stand here, mute but immutable; silent evidence; the fingerprints of the human soul. You can see it in every stroke. The soul is the work's shadow. It is set in the hardened paint like the figures frozen at Pompeii, or the silhouettes of those vaporised at Hiroshima. What price shall I put on them? I'm interested in how a "realistic" image captured by a camera can evolve into something more abstract. Digital photography is my chosen medium because...