There are few first impressions fit to be encouraged. The young man seems to be doing the most ordinary thing in the World—photography. Until recently, photography was considered a student medium. Copying or stealing a master’s work was the means by which a student learned the higher art of photography. What does the pupil look for in a master?

I will tell you. The master draws the photograph in his head, and then takes the picture he wants to see, but they do not always come out right, sometimes the scale, lighting, or climate are a little different than the photograph seen by the photographer’s eye. That is how all natural things, and all creatures have derived from the divine intellect.

The master’s idea is comparable to divine intellect. The master is to the student, as God is to humanity. And that is why God says, “Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back,” reports Luke 6.30. Know thyself, improve thyself, saith the new.

Photography is, furthermore, autographic: it bears the master’s imprint, his style. The work not only won the astonished admiration of all other artists, but the sheer volume causes others to gaze at the young man in amazement at the marvels he created.

People really admire Randolph’s photography because he witnesses the extraordinary fluidity and spontaneity of the World, and nothing obsessed him more than the Victorian architecture, the color blue and nature.

Randolph is here to witness nature in the process of giving way to the forces of civilization—eternal nature pitted against the contemporary moment of sky scrapers, track homes, and modern architecture. Modern architecture is nice, but looks so incomplete—buildings with no ornate detail and flat roofs, yet the modern work is beautiful. Randolph is just in love with a moment in time.

Victorian craftsmanship employs linear perspective to create the bridge from fairytale land to the real World, and it establishes a geometry where the bridge takes us to a place more relaxing, charming and romantic.

The contrasting of Victorian architecture appears to be a cloud in the sky and is remarkable, the sense of opposing forces, is everywhere at work, in the composition—in the altering rhythm of light to dark established by the grandeur and tri-color scheme that is utilized in the reflections and almost perfect symmetrical balance of the structure and countered by the asymmetrical balance of the composition as a whole.

With the mix of modern and Victorian architecture, there seem to be two points of emphasis, the future and the past, and they are, we feel, somehow at odds. What appears at first to be a simple urban, suburban community, upon analysis reveals itself to be a much more complicated landscape full of wonder and excitement.

Animal forms, human images and geometrical shapes seem to arise out of the design, and an extraordinarily independent  spirit, raised and educated, in a society, that values social conformity, above individual identity, Randolph is helping to make others appreciate the historical flare and modern appeal, and park like setting, of the City of Sacramento and Elk Grove, California. Contrast is very important.

If you do not have contrast, everything just cancels each other out. Like the male models, they are all attractive, but after a while, designers and fashion gurus feel like they are looking at the same man, with blue eyes and blonde hair, or his brother with brown eyes and brown hair, no variety.  It is like only two male models exist.

There is variation in hair texture, eye shape or skin tone. The beauty of variety is you do not know when you leave what is going to be there in the morning. You hope the best. You plant your seed. You work hard, but for the harvest—you have to wait.

There are many aspects the elite like about Randolph. They love the fact that he loves the English classics of our mythological heritage—specifically European strain of humanized theology from Medieval times to the present—beauty cannot subsist without contrariety.

While adequate to the knowledge of his time, would be for the modern reader misleading, however, the way he presents the culture reveals more and more of the truths that they hold in keep for all, and they are best heard when presented this way.

The photographs and the words speak to each in his own language—as they once spoke to the ancients. One of the best allies of virtue and promoters of happiness, as many others only dry facts without any charm of the original narrative.

Randolph endeavored to tell them correctly, according to ancient authorities, so that when the reader finds his essays and photographs, they will not be at a loss to recognize the reference, they will tend to fix in memory the leading fact of each story, they will help to the attainment of a correct illustration or the proper names, and the photographs and essays (photojournalism) will enrich the memory with many gems of romance, knowledge, and spirituality, some of the work is frequently alluding to conversations that have taken place.

Having chosen photography and literature for our province, Randolph connects the two and gives birth to true photojournalism—one reads with intelligence and the elegant literature of their own day.

There is a sense of coherence by repeating shapes and patterns, and people become familiar with the landmarks, and the idea of community itself, bringing together the diversity of the Capitol City of California, through the unifying patterns of the founders of the city.

The City of Sacramento is made up of different lines, forms, colors, textures—the various visual elements themselves—and the photographs show the audience they work together.

However, on one hand, we sense Randolph’s alienation from his community in the work because of traditional notions of artistic quality. However, in contrast, Randolph is distinguished by the sheer energy and exuberance of his style, the vitality of his color, and the sense of freedom that his photojournalism seems to embody—he also always seems to have fun with it.

Randolph is actually mocked by many serious journalist, who possess preoccupation with money and fame, which most reporters and anchors have, and as a result, Randolph achieves a unity and recognition larger than the comparatively elitist culture than some journalist could ever imagine.

Repetition is not necessarily boring, but when you have 200 people, all across the country, repeating the same limited perspective that they call reporting, it causes the audience to look down as if in contemplation of man’s fate, as there is a lack of original conception. Blind impulse is Nature’s highest wisdom.

We make our great jump, and then Nature takes the bandages off our eyes, piercing his heart, blood falls in a rush to the floor, and its red becomes a gigantic foot print, to dramatize the horror of this scene—beauty itself was a function of proper proportion and justice.

Repetition often implies monotony, but there is a beauty found in the sterile World of suburban life and good, honest behavior. Some even say there are Illuminati symbols and occult enchantment in the body of work. And the man, in the background, in the red sweater, how ironic.

If you know Randolph, and know of his journey, the images and word may present a different story to some, than it would to others who have never heard of him. The photographs are all symbolic and there is yet another story echoed, and crying out for justice.

It is meant to capture the rhythm of his life, executed out of his experience, even now, your imagination is working, trying to dig deeper, and that is the purpose–there is an unbelievable story waiting to be told–but it is very true, and he is reaching out as if continually striving to escape the dark inferno beneath.