Ebb & Flow – a note from the author.

I don’t think it’s any secret to anyone that knows me that I’ve gone through a pretty long hiatus from photography. Between coping with a job requiring long hours, feeling disaffected by my surroundings for a couple years, and an overall lack of inspiration, I fell into a routine of not carrying a camera around. Even when I did make an effort to have a camera of some sort on me, I wasn’t able to push through the haze of indifference to the medium that had overtaken me.

I felt that if I wasn’t making “Extraordinary” pictures, emphasis on the capital E, that pictures wouldn’t be worth making at all. The sense of urgency, and, honestly, lust for capturing my own experiences was somehow lost on me.

Little by little in the past few months, the door has slowly become unlocked again, and I’ve found myself thoroughly enjoying seeing again. The façade of emotional turmoil that I convinced myself I needed in order to make work began to crumble away, and light slowly started to seep in through the cracks.

Relearning to see, and love that light has been instrumental in getting me to the place I am today, as I sit in my apartment after a 10 hour day, thinking about all the things I want to do next, whether that be with photography, music, or writing.

This is my promise to myself to be the best I can be, to embrace the challenges that throw themselves my way, to relish the experiences that come along with them, and share those experiences with those I care about.

It’s going to be a good year.





Turkey Leg.


We walked into the hot shop at around 8:30.

Fire dancers performed in front of the glory holes while the crowd milled around with plastic cups of Sixpoint. A song about broads in Atlanta blared through the speakers as we found Charlie coming out of the bar. He was supposed to be working the beer table, but the demo team needed an extra set of hands.

She pointed out that someone had scrawled “MEAT” on the ground; on the other side of the bench we could see the crime-scene chalk rendition of a turkey leg.



After much back and forth, along with a couple close calls keeping everything hot, the drumstick was puntied onto the bone and popped into the annealer.

We killed another beer and went down the street to Lowlands; where I had a feeling Luke would be bartending. Sure enough, I heard my name called out as we walked in. After a brief introduction, words flowed as freely as they did quickly, and two hours disappeared into thin air.


It wasn’t supposed to be a late night, even though it already was.

A mile and a half, and 6 neighborhoods later, the car came to a stop. We got out, walked for half a block, and stepped inside. She called the elevator and as the doors opened I glanced to make sure my settings were right.

I hope some of these actually end up in focus.

We half-ran down the hallway to her door, the shutter chirping along with each step.


She slid her key into the door and we disappeared into thin air.