Twenty-Five Times I Felt Something.

My photographs are primarily inspired by my childhood, whether that be specific memories or overarching themes/feelings. I make as a way to process the past, it is a compulsion to remember and have a record of everything. Much of my work explores ways of documenting that which has already happened. With each passing year, I am …

Weeds.

Fistfuls of dandelions hand delivered to a mother who refused to tell me they were weeds. On hands and knees we ate the grass, slicing our tongues in a world of pretend.

Of the Earth.

My favorite piece of literature is Emerson's Nature essay. My copy is bent, torn, dog eared and covered in illegible notes. I keep it with me at all times, read it for pleasure and for inspiration. His words have reached a deep layer within my soul that most other writing has failed to touch. When …

Little Time and No Money.

In June I went to Memphis, I have finally written about it here.

THE HIVE

Spontaneity is key in travel as the most memorable moments lay hidden in the unknown. Four Sundays ago I looked at my mother and said, I’m going to drive to Memphis, do you want to come? Two days later we packed up the Corolla, and drove twelve hours south to West Memphis, Arkansas, and the sticky southern, summer heat. Like any last-minute, low-budget road trip, I was determined to see as much as I could while spending as little cash as possible. What initially started out as a trek to visit the Memphis College of Art, a contender in my ever-growing list of potential grad schools, turned in to a whirlwind, six state adventure.

Day one was a twelve-hour drive south from Ohio into Kentucky, Tennessee and finally Arkansas where we stayed in a one room cabin without running water. While sifting through gas station pamphlets on the bottom bunk we…

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My First Story.

This is my first story. I was the first and I was the only and like all first time mothers, mine was unaware of what she had signed up for. Mick Jagger was born on July 26th, I was not. My due date was the 15th of July, my mother wanted to pop me out on …

Pretend.

In my last week of college we gave presentations about our work and life goals to a panel of four photographers living and working in the same great city as us. They had a lot of wonderful feedback for me, but one in particular stood out. A well-know photo retoucher looked at me and said, …

Deceivingly Simple.

Every second of everyday in every class seems to be filled with people asking me what I am doing/where do I want to be next.  They don't mean with my life, they mean with my career (although as an artist the line between art and career is often blurred).  I have become quite aware of what is …

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 …

We Three.

I had heard this story for the first time while at a church camp with my grandmother when I was nine years old. Since then it has been shared a handful of other times. It gets brought up when the baby pictures come out (which is quite often as I am a very sentimental twenty year …

Haunts.

Haunt (v.) - to recur persistently to the consciousness of; remain with Haunt (n.) - a place frequently visited I am making haunts. Both my mother and fathers childhood homes and the first house I lived in - all three gone to us now.  The places we began.  My parents homes represent a life before they were aware of one-anothers existence (a concept fascinating to me).  Mine is …