He will probably tell you his work is about fantasy, and if you ask him about influences he might mention Cartier-Bresson, Strand and Kertesz, influences that are more philosophical than visual.
If I were a critic, writing about a stranger's work, I would probably talk about the 'classicism' of his work, a formality that seems to bridge the generations of Strand-Weston and Callahan-Siskind to the anti-formal iconoclasm of such photographers as Robert Frank and Lee Friedlander; I would also point out that the fantasy that is so prevalent in most of his photography antedates and compliments the surrealism which permeates other contemporary work today, the work of such men as Joel Peter Witkin and Duane Michals.
But knowing the man, and knowing him before I knew his work, the times seem more important, and his work and those times seem inseparable. His work is like the obverse side of Cartier-Bresson's coin; his strongest photographs, for me, capture those indecisive moments when man's persona takes over, moments when the spirit transcends the flesh; girls walking up stairs and changing to Alice-in-Wonderland, doors turning to faces, men metamorphosing into gods, gargoyles stepping off walls, tenuous moments when stone turns to flesh, or flesh to stone, and myth and legend walk among us.
Mark Power
from the introduction "George Krause 1”, 1972