For the eccentric and paranoid Fieret, photography was a way of coming to terms with himself and his life. He photographed mostly women. On occasion, however, something else would catch his eye: a still life, an active child, or a light-filled room with a playpen. Fieret was not interested in making, or preserving, perfect prints. His photographs are blurry, creased, written on with felt-tip pens, and display traces of bird droppings.
