Left Behind and Gone Beyond.

I am not compulsive. I am analytical, methodical and calculated. I spend weeks (often months) researching and writing before I attempt to create anything. This is why I was so surprised with myself and the beginnings of what I have affectionately been referring to as the Mud Prints. In graduate school, the researching and writing are expected, …

Mementos.

Everything is a work in process. Here is a look at graduate school semester two, a sneak peek of what has been happening in my studio. How do you document a place you no longer have access to, a place that is two thousand miles away? Before I left Ohio and drove thirty hours across …

All of the Possibilities.

This year's all encompassing blog post is proof that 365 days are more than enough to make major changes to your life. One year ago I was overwhelmed with seasonal depression and feelings of loneliness and immobility. 2016 was a year of gallery shows and new work. I finally felt like I was a real …

A Real Object.

I came to Tucson with a box full of dirt from Wyandot County knowing it would be my only connection to my home for months. I dug ten separate holes from ten different locations of significance to my life (my parents childhood homes, my elementary school, etc.) and put the dirt in individually labeled zip …

Something New.

The last day of 2016 was the best day and the first day of 2017 was the best day and I pray to God that they come together to set the precedent for what will be the best year yet. I spent my last hours of the old year and the first of the new …

134.

This photograph is one of those pieces of art that means far more to the artist than it possibly could to anyone else. It holds such a huge part of the past four, nearly five, years of my life, beginning with my decision to head off to college end of summer 2012. Currently it is my desktop picture and upon …

My Sycamore.

This Summer they began tearing down Sycamore, at least that's what it has felt like to my overly sensitive heart.  What I mean by this is they are tearing down my Sycamore, the backdrop of my childhood.  My fathers' Sycamore is long gone, and my grandmothers' was torn down before even that.  Around eight years …

Wherever I Go.

As I sat in the Columbus airport twelve days ago (scared to death to fly for the first time) it occurred to me that after this trip my perspective would change.  The world would either grow or shrink, get bigger or smaller.  After spending the last dozen days in Ireland, I have come to the …

The Beginning of This.

I have made a pact with myself to always have a camera on hand.  Tonight marked the beginning of this; I went on a walk, during a tornado watch, with the newest edition to my family of cameras.  None of these images are swoon worthy, but this has been my evening.  It is my hope …

Five Thirteen South Sycamore Avenue.

When I was four years old I looked up at my father and said, "Sycamore Ohio is Heaven on Earth." I think that we all have a desire to go back and record where we come from.  This is something I've always done in a more abstract way, however, the older I get and the …