without acknowledging my father’s birthday. When I came across this pastoral landscape accented by light falling on a distant mountain, it struck me that it was the kind of scenery he would have loved to have painted. I can almost see him slathering color upon the mountains with his palette knife and scratching detail into the hay bales in the foreground with a stiff, tapered brush.
My father’s been gone for almost twenty years but the memories linger. He wasn’t the perfect father but I always knew that he loved me and he knew that I loved him. I’d give almost anything to share with him what my life’s like now.
Love is imperfect, but that’s as it should be. It lives in darkness and light—touching some for a day and others for a lifetime—a gift, not a right. If you love someone, tell them today, in case tomorrow never comes.
While exploring, we came across a church that had been in existence for well over a century. I couldn’t help but think how the words spoken here might have nourished the souls of these early pioneers settling in an unforgiving landscape.
I photograph and I write—two different yet connected mediums. Images take me on a visual journey of my world, while written words resonate deeply on the inside.
Both can be lies.
From the scale, perspective, and editing of a photograph, to the idea that words can be a crafted illusion of what we want to be true—that writing them doesn’t make them so.
We need to be better stewards of the truth and guard against swallowing the bitterness of others.
It’s a crazy world out there, one where isolation and fear has created a few monsters, and neither photographs nor words tell the whole story. A little extra kindness never hurts while the truth unfolds.
We make choices every day not knowing the consequences that one decision may make in our lives.
Sometimes fear renders us incapable of taking a step forward—the known is somehow much safer.
What if we open ourselves up and the very opposite of what we hope for happens? What if the people we trust aren’t trustworthy?
You learn from it, and instead of building walls you build a cocoon, soft and silken, and you heal.
And you grow with the knowledge that sometimes people are broken and the decay that grows within them cannot be seen from the outside.
Some would say, you just gotta love them more.
I would say, you just gotta walk away. Listen to your intuition and don’t make excuses justifying someone’s bad behavior. Forge ahead because even the bad things are good things—we grow from the experience.