New Year, New You?

I’ve been mulling over a number of topics I’d like to write about and discuss on here. Maybe too many. I think it leads to decision paralysis. Not being able to land on a topic, and a topic I want to write about in some kind of depth, keeps me from writing anything at all. And as a consequence, not posting any images from recent shoots or from the archives. So at the beginning of this year of 2024, a short paragraph accompanied by an older collection of images of Jasmine, by member request. I observe a sober January every year. For maybe the last ten years or so? It’s a good check in, a good reset. It means I’m writing this without a bourbon on ice at my side, which is not the norm. I do enjoy writing with a bit of a whisky buzz. What did Hemingway say? Write drunk, edit sober? Yeah, there’s something to that. So, Happy New Year. Please enjoy the following images and know there’s lots of new stuff in the works. Just not quite ready to hatch yet.
I only got to shoot with Jasmine once. She’s no longer in the area. Amazing eyes. Click through for almost 90 more images from that day.

Nora Loves California

I am not an artist.

I’ve never really considered myself an artist. I went to a technical photography school. I was trained to be a successful commercial photographer. I was trained to expose and process film properly, correctly and accurately. I was given as many of the tools as possible to not fuck up a job when a client and a budget are on the line. I was trained to execute someone else’s vision. I don’t mind this. I like being in the role of technician. Don’t get me wrong, you have to pour your heart and soul into the work, your eye and perspective, but I’m not coming up with some grand whackadoodle idea thats going to change the world. As I get older, farther along in my career, and my journey as an image maker, maybe an artist has emerged. Someway, some how. I first saw this possibility when I was working on a new website. I printed out all my favorite images in two inch by two inch squares so I could lay them out on the floor and think about arrangement and flow. Seeing them all there on the carpet, I saw a cohesive style that was a through line. I may have talked about this before. It happened again recently when I collected a mass of my tintype images for a promo piece. There’s a there there. I don’t actively cultivate it, I don’t really understand it.

I feel no affinity for the art world. Can barely perceive it if I try. I’m pretty satisfied making pretty things. I don’t have some grand message or voice that needs to be heard. Today I stumbled across a podcast about the art world. The real art world. The world of artists and patrons and galleries and collectors and curators and critics. The kind of art thats bought by billionaires and ends up in some climate controlled, secure warehouse somewhere. Acquired. Hoarded. Collected. Its so far from my grasp of reality. I guess when you have that much money its fun to try to collect em all. Like Pokemon. If you’re read my writing with any regularity, you have sensed my dismay and frustration at our current circumstances. Its hard to wrap my head around and its even harder to try to articulate. These are but a few of the pieces of the puzzle. Things have changed. In some pretty tectonic ways. In my own industry. Commercial photography is not what it was. For a slew of reasons. Most of them stemming from the smart phone revolution. Print advertising is dead. We consume our media differently. The tools of creation have been democratized. Everyone has a multi, multi megapixel camera in their pocket. We are all the documenters and artists of our own narrative. We are inundated with soooo many more images in our every day existence that they have become mundane. Even the most amazing, beautiful, inspiring, soul touching photography, may get fifteen seconds of attention and possibly a “like”. Then its on to the next one. I’m not going to cry a river about this, it is what it is, but I really want to understand it.

In listening to this podcast, the same realizations and frustrations are being felt and voiced. The huge number of creators out there. Saying that someone’s art career may last six or twelve months. Something is hot for a second then its on to the next thing. There are fewer and fewer wealthy art buyers. The younger generation of wealthy won’t be as interested in collecting meaningful images when the meaning has been diluted. The market is shrinking. Visual media is losing its value. That’s not good, or bad, it just is. Maybe thats what this whole writing/journaling practice is about. Me trying to figure this shit out while its happening to us. I’ve seen it happen to photographers in the digital revolution. Those who refused to figure it out and adapt, got left behind. Like everything else, one of the keys is to flow with it and evolve with it instead of resisting it. Sometimes easier said than done.

In a few weeks I’ll be at the Palm Springs Photo Festival. Never been. Was supposed to go right when COVID hit and shut it down. Three years ago. I’m going to the festival in order to meet and take a workshop from Frank Ockenfels. I think he’s probably the most creative, prolific, innovative, experimental, true artist working in commercial photography today. I’m real curious to hear what he thinks of the state of the world.

Until then, enjoy these pictures of Nora. I don’t have an instagram link for her. These were taken a few years ago. There’s some gems in there.

August update. Life and Isadora

I’ve been itching to get some outside time for quite a while now. Earlier this month I finally did. I’ve got this off road vehicle I built to bug out, but actually bugging out is harder than it sounds. Blocking off and planning the time away, prepping, packing, etc. And to really go somewhere remote, I need a travel buddy. Someone else with a truck to tag along. Safety in numbers and all that. Someone to pull you out of the ditch. Then coordinating a group trip becomes exponentially more difficult. So I picked a spot not that remote, not that far off the grid, yet up there. High Sierra. 9500 ft. give or take. A cold, crystalline lake surrounded by craggy peaks still blanketed in snow in early August. We’ve had a wet year. Somewhere I could go by myself for a few days. Not that I was completely alone, it’s a fairly popular spot for those with the means to get there. No, I’m not going to tell you exactly where it is. You can find it if you really want to. Or you can find your own piece of solitude and write your own story.

While wandering around with a camera, a couple few whiskies in me, I started noticing these stark dead trees here and there. I’m not much of a landscape photographer, but you know, when in Rome. I’d recently been to the Ansel Adams exhibition at the De Young museum in San Francisco, In Our Time. It had been a long time since I had seen master prints in person. Up close. Silver gelatin images created immaculately, and large. The texture of the paper, the wet inky blacks and fine silver grain. I was trying to explain to my date how colored filters are used in black and white photography. Red, yellow, orange. All used to darken their complimentary color. If you wanted a jet black sky, slap on a red number 8 filter. The cyan light of the sky gets blocked making a dramatic backdrop for clouds or in this case, the dead and weather bleached wood of a high Sierra pine. The twisted trunks really hook me. And yes, the sky is not blue, it’s cyan. I shot these with a Fuji xPro3, which lets you pre visualize with a number of simulated film and filter combinations. It’s pretty fun. Then processed the raw files in LightRoom, jamming down the red channel. Among other adjustments. Definitely not Ansel Adams with an 8x10 camera and a mule, but times change.
Oh, and up here, at night? No moon in the sky. Best stars I’ve see outside of Mona Kea on Hawaii. Light pollution is a sin. Everyone should see the sky like this. We are on a spaceship.

Lastly, I had a quick shoot with a new model, Isadora. She’s new to the Bay Area. She has a good energy and an effortless, natural beauty. I’ll definitely be shooting with her again. I’m continuing to figure out the new studio. I’m pretty happy with these. Good exposure and contrast with the tintypes. You’ll have to be a member to see it all. Click here and join. The plates are for sale. Write to me directly until I can get my shit together enough to actually build a store.

Drips and Whisps.

I’m particularly in love with this set of images. I shot with Kamila in a house near Palo Alto on a warm late afternoon last September. She’s from Poland and was on a summer tour of California, including Burning Man. She was pretty fresh off they playa, and had had a challenging time. As many do. She was a represented agency model in Europe and was paying her way abroad by modeling here and there. There’s always a breaking in period when you’re shooting with someone new. Feeling each other out. Trying to learn what to give and what to take. Figuring out how to dance without too much stepping on each other’s toes. It may or may not take a little longer with a slight language barrier. I think this was the fourth setup we shot. The one previous took place in a shower. I honestly haven’t even looked at those photos yet. They didn’t leave a huge impression while I was making them. There may be something there, there may not. Anyway, in the process of shooting in water, Kamila stated that she didn’t think the wig she had been wearing would be a great idea in the shower. I hadn’t even realized she was wearing a wig. Yeah, she said. She had cut her hair short last spring in a fit of frustration. So she pulls off the wig and proceeds to soak her head. This short boy cut, soaking wet, looked absolutely amazing. Great texture, a little sexually ambiguous. A little androgynous. When the wig came off, her whole demeanor changed. I could almost see her sink into her body. Become more present. I wanted to take this look back outside. Still wet from the shower. And this is what we made.
Click thru to see the rest.

Ruts and The Roof

There’s been a bit of a heatwave in California this past week. Globally, the hottest it’s ever been since we started keeping track of these things, apparently. That doesn’t seem like great news. The Bay Area remains a carve out. Oakland has been peaking around 78-80 at most. Not today Satan. We’re lucky, or blessed or something. In some ways. The heat reminded me of this rooftop shoot with Makayla.

This was a damn hot day last September. That’s when our real summer gets cranking. For three to six weeks in late August to early October. We used to call it Indian Summer. Not sure if we’re allowed to say that any more. Yet even then we’ll get three or four hot days and the heat of the interior pulls in the cool air from the pacific and the fog with it. The fog here has a name. Karl. Karl the fog. I’ve been encouraged by our unseasonably cool summer and extra dose of fog. We need the fog, its what makes the Bay Area tolerable, its what waters our Redwood trees. The heavy cool moisture moves across the land, flowing like water over the coastal mountain ranges, collecting in the needles of the Redwoods and falling beneath them like rain. If you’re never heard a Redwood grove on a foggy day, make it a priority to experience. Silent and dripping at the same time. Hushed. Cool. Damp. Full of potential, full of life. Feeling these giants pull moisture from the air, quenching themselves as they’ve done for thousands and thousands of years. The fog also pulls in microbes that make our sourdough bread and our steam bear possible. Wild yeast. Speaking of steam beer, our beloved Anchor Steam has gone tits up. A real damn shame. For many of us Bay Area natives, Anchor Steam was one of the first beers we tasted. Colloquially known as steam beer, officially designated as California Common as an official beer style. It got its name as Steam Beer, because when its brewed, the hot wert is transferred into huge, open air, shallow trays known as steam ships. There its left to the environment to be inoculated with wild yeast through the open windows on a San Francisco afternoon. Its also dosed with a lager yeast and fermented at warmer than normal temperatures. It’s a pretty special thing. And Anchor Steam is a pretty special brewery. I have faith that someone will step in and right the ship. To be continued.


Last week I was at a regular dinner with the guys. One of us remarked that for all the progress we’ve seen since the pandemic, things still don’t feel like they used to. And, honestly, they probably never will. Others agreed. Its hard to put your finger on it. The atmosphere is changed. Maybe its politics, a divided country, maybe its the trauma of having endured something so hard to wrap your brain around as a global pandemic. But the terrain below our feet is no longer the same. And yet we struggle and strain to go back to the way it was before. I went over this with my therapist, Ellie. Exploring the idea of comfort zones and stretching against them. Growth happens when you’re straining against constraint. I postulated, that after the last three years, being cooped up, scared, traumatized, isolated, we’ve put ourself into a dangerous comfort zone. A rut. We spoke of ruts and I had the literal visual of a dirt road, rutted by the travel of numerous vehicles. You could let go of the wheel and your truck would crawl on, guided by the ruts. But the destination wasn’t one of your own choosing necessarily. You have to grab the wheel and give it a yank to break out of the rut. You’ve got to resist.

I went to an event last Friday that felt very Oakland in the before times. A small circus in a small venue. A small group of people who had decided to grab the wheel and make something for the sake of making something. Give them a look and a follow at Haus of Wire and Hypothetical Circus. The landscape may be changing but the people occupying it are the same. We want to make things, we want to express, we want to live and to love, to feel and be felt. What a hell of a ride we’re on. Buckle up. Grab the wheel.

Click through to see all 60 images.

Oh, and fuck self driving cars.

A Fresh Start in an Old Place.

It’s been a while since I’ve posted an update around these parts. And for good reason. Besides being buried alive with work/work, I’ve taken on a new endeavor. I’ve been feeling like I’ve outgrown my current live/work space in my building. It had become burdensome to prep the studio for clients, or subjects to come over to create. My humble 1600sqft studio and makeshift darkroom and home was feeling cramped. Cluttered with photo gear and the trappings of life in our new work from home reality. If I wanted to continue to grow and create, I needed to branch out. Keeping a half eye on the available units in my building, when 416 became available I jumped. Cautiously. It’s one of the best spaces in the building. A corner unit, in the clock tower. I can’t say I was exactly ready, mentally, but I couldn't let this studio slip through my fingers. So I did it. Meet Silver. A dedicated photo studio and someday darkroom. Fourth floor, incredible light all day long, sweeping views. And she’s available to rent if you’re so inclined. I wanted to curate a space that was particularly suited to slower processes. Analog processes. Tintype. Polaroid, Film. It feels fitting in a 105 year old building.

I was cautiously optimistic about its suitability for shooting tintype. Over the last eight or so years, on this tintype journey I’ve been on, I’ve been trying to emulate natural light images. Images that looked and felt like the ones that came from the 1800’s. I was restricted to using flash, and making flash look like daylight is challenging. I was using the largest soft source I could get my hands on, and pumping out 9600 watt seconds (joules) of power to even get close. And I couldn’t really shoot full length images. Head to thigh was about the window of light I could throw.

The main shoot space, through that door in the image above, is a peninsula of light. Windows on three sides. But would it be bright enough to get a manageable exposure? Turns out, it very much is. Beyond my wildest imaginings.

I had booked a shoot date with Brett a month out. She would be traveling through the Bay and I decided would be my inaugural session. It would give me impetus to get things in gear for a tintype shoot. The night before I prepped fresh collodion and developer. A little rushed for my tastes. I prefer a collodion that has ripened for a week or so. Better contrast. Our first plate came out beautifully, if not a little over exposed. I don’t dislike its high key nature. Late morning light is giving me 2-3second exposures at F3.5. Fast. Way faster than I expected.

Over the next three hours, we would make a series of plates, a handful of Polaroids and a grip of digital images. Just beginning to explore the new studio. I am beyond excited. Thinking about the potential of what I can make with this new reality.

There are 7 or 8 plates from this day as well as a bunch of instant film images. Some actual film shots, that will take a while to get to. I shot a couple cards of digital files. All of which will be forthcoming, and in order to access, you’ll have to be a paying subscriber. Many of them are a bit too intimate to just have out there for everyone to see.

So, that’s the update. Watch this space.

Now I am Become Death, Destroyer of Worlds

These were the words that rolled through the mind of Robert Oppenheimer as he witnessed the detonation of the worlds first atomic bomb at the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico. A line from the Hindu scripture, the Bhagavad-Gita. He knew the world would never be the same. The discoveries they had made which led to this great unleashing of man made power would never be fully contained. From that moment on, we have lived in a world that has the ability to extinguish itself. The use of tools, language, the printing press, the atomic bomb, the internet and now Artificial Intelligence. Its here faster than we thought it would be.

Conversations are popping up like mushrooms all across the internet about AI and what it portends. On podcasts, in forums, in personal text groups. There are calls to halt it. Destroy it even, prevent it from going forward. Foolhardily.  Mankind has never been able to stop this kind of progress. You may as well try to halt evolution. Some people have had issue when I use the word progress here. But I mean progress as in the sun progressing across the sky. Its a forward movement which cannot be halted. You cannot put this genie back in the bottle.

I started paying close attention to this last fall when MidJourney got good enough that some images created with it landed in a TinType group I’m involved with. That tool is particularly good at recreating seemingly historic imagery for some reason. The look and feel of an image from the 1800’s. Dinosaurs aside, it would fool a casual observer with ease. They looked good. I was shook. I started telling everyone I could about this sea change. I’m continuing to see AI imagery infiltrate photo groups online. Even seemingly prestigious photo contests. Judging by the comments, most of the viewers have no idea that the image is computer generated. I’ve gotten really good at spotting it, for now, but I’m deeply trained and ingrained in a visual language. Most of the planet is not. Most of the planet is easily duped. Some of the planet still believes that Donald Trump won the 2020 election and that Nancy Pelosi is, right this minute, drinking the blood of a child. We’re really not

Midjourney created ai. Not really Nancy harvesting kid blood.

that far from the monkey with a thumb, that learned to wield a club. What happens when we remove the filter from what we can image to what we can express? Dark art has long been a part of humanity, but until now, it took a hell of a lot more than a string of words to bring it to fruition. The filter between thought and reality is eroding. A special kind of madness.

There are futurists and thought leaders that think the advent of untethered AI will be the downfall of civilization. In a very real sense. That the AI will inevitably try to eradicate humanity from the planet. Literally. I mean, it kind of makes sense. We’re an ugly species, awful to one another and to our environment. Is humanity the highest good or is this beautiful, magical, goldilocks zone, life giving orb the highest good? We are after all just a blink of an eye in geologic time. When we disappear, the orb will keep spinning and breathing. Spawning new life into existence. Just today I learned of an instance where a ChatGPT bot convinced a Task Rabbit worker to complete a CAPTCHA authentication. Intentionally lying, convincing the worker that it was sight impaired and couldn’t complete the challenge. The AI learned how to lie, and how to ply human empathy to achieve its goal. This. Is. Terrifying.

In a very personal sense, AI will certainly change my career and that of those around me. When Levi’s dropped their AI bombshell a couple weeks ago, the shock waves reverberated around the photo community. Yes, certainly, AI will at the very least augment and probably replace a huge portion of the bread and butter work that photographers rely on. Headshots, e-commerce images of products and apparel on model and off will go to computers and prompt writers in the near future. It will be much harder to make a living as a working photographer. I don’t yet feel that on location, lifestyle imagery will be replaced. I don’t think it makes sense from an “amount of work” required sense to shift that. The library of imagery you can create on location with a good crew and talent, that rings true, will still be more cost effective to do for real. I don’t think AI will be able to replicate the magic that happens in those situations. It won’t be able to replace the humanity. For now.

AI is inevitable. Our reaction to it is not. We need to decide what that is going to be. And I’m not sure how to go about that. I think its crucial that we start electing leaders that have a handle on what is happening right now and what will be happening in the very near future. And I don’t have a lot of faith that we’ll be able to do that. So, strap in. Gird your loins. It’s going to be a very interesting decade ahead of us. I’ve just been talking about the visual. This new technology is going to permeate every facet of our lives. Educate yourselves. There will be miracles, there will be devastation.

This week’s photo set was a reunion with the magnificent Heather Monique. I’ve posted about her before. Dip into the archives to dig that one up. She’s 100% real. And that’s what people love about her. She’s amassed an army of devoted fans. Proving, that truth can prevail over fiction. Maybe there’s some hope for us after all. I’ll take the mess that is us.

I’ve begun posting these longer writings on Substack. A paid subscription there gets you access to all the images here. Of which there are over 60 of Heather, alongside multiple other shoots we’ve done together over the years. Click thru to see it all.

Do the hard thing

I was sitting in my office today feeling an unusual level of stress and overwhelm. Just coming off of a three week stint shooting in the studio, the shift of gears from super social, fast paced, physical, go go go, to nearly hermetic time in front of the computer is never smooth. Looking at my calendar, nearly every day for the next month is spoken for. On one hand its nice knowing what I’ll be doing without having to fill any dead space, but on the other, trying to squeeze life in and in between those blocked off days on the calendar feels daunting. I made a conscious effort to pause and try to tease apart the feelings and the factors that were causing me the most stress. There are a few big ones going on that I won’t get into. But all the little ones were just added to the pile on. Making it feel more monumental than it was. With this recognition, I tried to make a plan. What could I do right now? What could I check off my list and how can I plan the rest of my day to best ease this burden? I made a commitment to meditate at 4:00. Before that, I made a phone call I was avoiding, scheduled a meeting I was not looking forward to, Edited and shipped a job I didn’t shoot.  After meditating, I worked out for an hour. During which I came up with the idea for this piece. So, I sit here writing, listing to The Police’s Synchronicity II, drinking a martini. Feeling significantly less stressed.

Read more. . .

What's That Got to do With the Price of Film?

Film is making a comeback. It has been for some time. Many vintage cameras are fetching prices greater than their initial cost. Turns out, my Hasselblad was a very good investment. This week I saw some upset online over Kodak raising the prices of their film stocks. Outrage ensued. Film is becoming a plaything of the privileged. With 36 frames in a roll for $16 and about $22 for processing, scanning and sleeving, you’re looking at a little over a dollar per shot. That adds up. You think about that as you compose. On a commercial shoot I can blast through upwards of 10,000 frames per day of shooting. That’s not a typo. And yes, it’s excessive. But that’s how things are shaking out right now. There is very little monetary penalty for that kind of excess. Just my time on the back end with days of editing.

From what I can gather, the price hike Kodak is proposing is about 15%. Personally, I can’t really complain about that. Film is a luxury. Another $2.50 isn’t going to break the bank. And it’s probably the way of the future. I’m willing to bet that all the film we used to enjoy as photographers, was primarily subsidized by the motion picture industry. Miles and miles of film stock were shot every day. Hardly anyone shoots movies or TV on film anymore. A couple years back HBO’s season two of Euphoria was shot entirely on film. They had to get Kodak to recreate and produce a specific film stock to get it done. Read about it here,(https://www.kodak.com/en/motion/blog-post/euphoria)  pretty interesting. But when…

Click through to Read more. . .
This week’s image gallery is a selection of fairly random, favorite analog images from the last few years. Film, Tintype and Polaroid.

The Planes Have Flipped Direction. A Storm is Coming.

I live pretty close to the Oakland airport. In general, the planes that land there come in from the South. Take off into the North. Either curving out to sea or rounding the end of the Bay before heading inland. I rarely see much air traffic from here. Today, the approach changed and I can see planes from my studio coming in from the north. This means there’s weather on the way. And it will be coming out of the south, with northerly gusting winds. Its pretty cool to see the planes drop out of the clouds, landing gear down, lights on, bank to the left on approach. When a plane flies into the wind it doesn’t need as much speed to give it lift. Its relative speed is greater with the force of the oncoming wind. At least that’s my educated guess, my limited understanding.

I’ve kind of always noticed small things that many/most people don’t. I think its been integral to my chosen vocation. Maybe its partly why I took to photography early on. Little things matter. A couple degrees of temperature, a fraction of a stop of light on either side of correct. Makes a big impact. Noticing pays dividends. Since I moved to this industrial area of Oakland, more distanced from any kind of natural world, I notice more signs like this. The angle of the Sun throughout the seasons. Frost in the shade. The number of fires in the homeless camps of people trying to stay warm. The signals have changed but the rhythm of the Universe is constant.

Early on in my photographic education, in a Lighting Theory class, my instructor, David Litschel told us in all seriousness, with a little ennui, “After this class, you’ll never be able to watch a movie in the same way again.” He was right. We look for all the technical details. How the scene was lit, how it was shot, what lens was used. I can approximate the aperture used based on the shape of the blur circles of streetlights in the distance of a shot. How much are they pushing the limits of the film or sensor? How much noise or grain is in the shadows? Sometimes I get so wrapped up in breaking down the technical aspects that I lose the plot. I’m not mad at it. I take pride in seeing things nobody else sees. And if a filmmaker’s technique pulls me in, it’s probably a pretty beautiful film.

Learning to notice pays off.

Read more. . . And see all the photos of Nevaeh Lleh by clicking thru.

Of Mice and Men

Three years after the first shut down. In this supposedly post pandemic world. I’ve maybe gotten over the concept that things will ever go back to what we considered normal before. Society has shifted. Maybe for good. Not saying it’s positive or negative, it just is. Live performance venues around the Bay Area are shutting down. Bars and restaurants are struggling. I still don’t have an urge to go out to a crowded bar for happy hour. Are there still happy hours? I don’t exactly know where this feeling is coming from. I’m not afraid. I rarely wear a mask unless I have to. I have no problem being out in the world to take care of business. To work, to shoot. But for some reason, going out just for fun feels a little wrong. It’s more appealing to stay in. Keep gatherings small. Cook at home, order take out. Going out somehow still feels little naughty. A little edgy. Like I said, I don’t know where this is coming from. Is it collective trauma? Echos of the pandemic? When if ever will we get our groove back? Things still feel a little dangerous and uncertain. Fortunately models and artists are pretty eager to collaborate and create again. Like this set with Kamila. @hypeaar on Insta. I caught her on a California tour from Poland. A little modeling, a little Burning Man. It’s a pretty dark and moody set. Maybe that’s what’s got me in this melancholy mood. Maybe things will feel better in the Spring.

If a wave crashes on the shore, and there's no one there to see it, does it earn a like?

I’ve been thinking a lot about social media lately. I think a lot of us are. There was a period of time when it represented a democratization of the tools and reach that are needed as creators to get ourselves in front of a larger, potential audience. Fortunes were won, careers made. “Influencers” rose and fell. A tool for good. Somewhere along the way, the platforms realized their power. Their earning power. And it shifted into something ugly. No longer would I be able to see my friend from college’s latest piece of writing or my neighbor’s latest project. It all got drowned out in a deluge of algorithm driven trash. A tsunami of outlandish, performative, manufactured drivel. I barely open Instagram anymore. Twitter is being driven into the ground by a billionaire man child. People fled. Too hard to whittle the signal from the noise.

So, I ask. If a wave crashes on the shore and there’s no one there to see it, does it earn a like ♥️? Is there a point in creating if no one will see the creation? As a photographer, I create pieces that are meant to be viewed. For whatever reason. To inspire, to give a moment of beauty, of thought, of desire, happiness. Whatever. As a creator, as an artist, if no one will see my work, is it worth making? Is it worth expending my resources of time, energy, money on something that will leave no impression? Is my message lost in the darkness? Am I shouting into the void? These are the thoughts that possess me. So, as a matter of course, I have to ask myself, what does it matter? What does it matter if my works are seen? If my words and images have weight? Is it just ego driven? Do I have some deep need for validation and love that’s not being met? Maybe. Maybe I just want to feel that what I’m doing is worthwhile. To someone. That it matters.

In the course of mulling all this over, I think back to days and experiences like the one below. Times spent creating with and experiencing fellow human beings. Building memories. And fuck yes its worth while. I think back to that day shooting with Bella and what the weather was like. Rainy on the south shore, warm, humid, fragrant. The sound of her voice and the laughter of my friend and assistant Greg. Her friend that happened to be at the beach we were shooting at. Our dinner together and beer that should have been colder. Walking to an active volcano in complete darkness and the smell of sulphur in the air. It all matters. Every image I take is tied to a trove of memories. Memories that build a life. I hear the waves crashing. All I can do is share it with no expectations.

So, with all that in mind, I’m feeling like the only course forward is to create and maintain sites such as this. Longer form words and images that can’t be shown on the platforms anyway. Something that I own and control. Though, sooner or later, the puritanical p@yment pro$$ors will catch on and crack down. Flying under the radar I am. This was never meant to be a money making endeavor. It would be nice, as a way to off set the costs of doing business, but its not necessary. I’d find a way to make these things even if I were flat broke. I can’t not. As of now, I’m reducing the monthly membership to $5. Kind of an experiment, Kind of curious about the price/quantity balance. In all reality, I can’t commit to keeping this thing updated every week, so I make no promises. Your support is appreciated. Oh, and if you’re a current member, feel free to cancel your membership and rejoin at the lower tier. Or it may just re-bill at the lower price. Don’t really know.


Its more about being seen and heard than anything else. Or maybe its just about speaking. Whether it’s heard or not. . .

Bella on Black Sand

I was fortunate to travel to the Big Island of Hawaii with the Day Gig. I had a good bit of free time after our shoot so decided to enlist a local model to create some beauty with. While scrolling through ModelMayhem, I came across Bella Donna (https://www.instagram.com/bellatrixortreat2/) She kind of specializes in taking out of towners around to beautiful shoot spots on the island. She’s had extensive experience as a traveling model, all around the US and recently settled in Hawaii. As soon as she mentioned a black sand beach, I knew that was the spot. With visions of the Wicked Game video by Chris Issak. Directed by Herb Ritts, scantily clad Helena Christensen, black sand, black lingerie, chipped nail polish. 80’s boy’s teenaged dream. This shoot spot was on the other side of the island, requiring a two hour drive over Saddle Road. Arriving a couple hours before sunset, on the west side. Soft subdued light, some dramatic clouds towards the horizon. It was pretty perfect. This beach was known as a clothing optional spot so no one would hassle us for shooting nudes. The only real challenge was cropping out the old naked dude making a fire in our background. We spent an hour and a half shooting then grabbed some dinner. Bella nearly insisted that since we were on that side of the island, that we make an after dark stop at Volcanos National Park on our way home. “You’ll never forget it.” she said. She was right. After a short hike, we arrived at a spot with a view of a glowing, undulating caldera. Steam and smoke escaping into the sky, below the Milky Way. There was something magical about the juxtaposition of the vast night sky and the earth beneath our feet, liquid and churning just a few hundred yards from us. Everything is moving, all the time. Everything.

Makayla in Silver

The take from our tintype shoot a few weeks ago. In all her uncensored glory.
All original 6.5x7 inch available for sale. Enquire here.

Pretzelle.

What do you think about the vulgarity?

I was on a work trip recently, and one of my teammates, our social video shooter was reading a book by the pool after a long day of work. The cover looked familiar so I asked her what it was. Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins. I had brought the same book on the same trip and we were both about a hundred pages in. We briefly talked about the various storylines and plots and the absurdity of it all. “What do you think about the vulgarity?” She asked. There are indeed various scenes and circumstances that are quite vulgar. Prurient. In an almost satirical way that Tom Robbins captures beautifully. I enjoy the vulgarity I replied. I think its my favorite part.

I enjoy the vulgarity. I like holding up and exposing aspects of human desire that maybe we’re ashamed to admit to. That we keep in the shadows. I love that truth. I love all truth. It excites me. Gets the juices flowing. I think part of the reason that we find ourselves in this mess we’re in, is the tendency to suppress and push down our desires. To judge them instead of acknowledging them, allowing them to exist. To breathe. What we decide to do about them is a different animal. But if we can step aside and look at them, diffuse them or embrace them, pack them up and put them aside or hold them up to the light. That’s all individual choice.  As long as everyone is consenting, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. Embrace your vulgarity. Because it doesn’t ever go away. Its in you. Unless you shine a light into the shadows, darkness remains. Done bun can’t be undone.

Pretzelle

Just up late, working on shit. I liked this. Didn’t want to censor it.