I’d started dreaming of the desert, having grown up mostly on the East Coast and right smack dab in the middle of Oklahoma I longed for something different.
I’d started dreaming of the desert, having grown up mostly on the East Coast and right smack dab in the middle of Oklahoma I longed for something different.
Self portraits are a great way to experiment with new styles and editing techniques - you’re always around and all you need is a decent space and some time.
It was an overcast and chilly day when we took the Island Packers boat to Santa Cruz, the largest of the five islands that make up the Channel Islands National Park.
The reason I got out on a sunshiny Sunday afternoon was because my very good friend Lauren invited me to come see her sister play drums in the musical Girlfriend at the Lyric Theater.
We drove through Golconda on a misty cold December day, following the Ohio River Scenic Byway that stretches across the southern tip of Illinois.
Just up the road (or down depending on your direction) from Hearst Castle is the Elephant Seal Boardwalk, overlooking the very busy Piedras Blancas Rookery.
If you get a chance go for the sunrise, get up while it's still dark and race the sun, sit with someone you love, and wait patiently.
It seems like 2018 was over in a flash. It was a mix of family and travel and it ended with buying a house and moving.
‘Tis love that makes the world go round, my baby. - Charles Dickens
I wonder what it would have been like to come as a guest, to wake up in one of those beds and sit under the orange trees with a book, to watch the sunset over the Pacific.
South Padre is everything you’d expect from a touristy beach town. Lots of brightly colored souvior shops with kitschy items that both kids loved, tiny bathing suits, funny (and risqué) T-shirt’s, and giant fish complete neon and flashing lights.
So, if it’s all about the journey and not the destination, when or where do you consider yourself successful? At what point do you feel like it’s enough?
I loved the colors and textures. There are giant petrified logs everywhere, some of them huge, broken into sections or tumbled together.
There are things that remind me, tugging me into the past, the scent of homemade bread and oatmeal cookies, the taste of sun ripened tomatoes still hot from the summer garden.
The cars, dating from 1949 to 1963, are caked in years of paint, the layers dripping and bubbling, colors blurring into one another.
The blue is just that clear and intense, like nothing else I've ever seen.
My favorite random spot we came across was Baby Head Cemetery. We drove by and then had to turn around when I realized what the sign said.
I’m drawn to abandoned places; pulled by history and loneliness, the quiet holding echoes and visions.