Unwritten Notes, Jenner, California

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#0268_12A Jenner, California - 2013

So it’s September of 2013 and all of a sudden I’ve got this well adjusted girlfriend and a Mexican beach dog and we take trips on the weekend like adults do. Mendocino, Sebastopol, Napa Valley. We used to go to this little place in Jenner up the coast, with a big deck and a hot tub that over looked the forest and drink copious amounts of vodka gimlets and read books and take naps and make love and for the first time in a long time things were really good.

I knew, somehow, for whatever reason, things were going to be good for a while. I don’t know why. That’s really all there was to it. We moved in together a few months later and were married within about a year.

Excerpts from the series “Unwritten Notes” - Photographs Made Elsewhere.

Comprised of work spanning nearly 15 years, the series is largely autobiographical and draws entirely from images made on the road, away from home...

Prints available upon request.

We're All Just Dancing Animals...

“Oh, she says well, you’re not a poor man. You know, why don’t you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And I go out to get an envelope because I’m going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.”

— Kurt Vonnegut

We’ve all got that one friend that is always sending us random stuff on the internet. I’ve got several in fact, which is occasionally interesting and often annoying but sometimes something comes through that actually resonates and gets me thinking about things in a different way, at least for an afternoon, so I tolerate them…

I think a lot about process, the way I’m engaging with things, with my work, machines, materials, routines, etc., which often descends into some existential crisis about what I actually should be doing instead of what I am doing and this of course leads to total dread and futility concerning everything in light of the eventual and inevitable heat death of the universe… And I still enjoy the process. I think that’s the point. And I think that’s why this little excerpt from a Kurt Vonnegut interview a friend sent me got me thinking, at least for an afternoon.

“I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babes. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And, and ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don’t know…”

— Kurt Vonnegut

I went to the grocery store yesterday morning after dropping my son at school. It was a cool morning and nice ride and some guy started chatting me up in the parking lot about the ridiculous cargo bicycle I putz around town on, and we had a quick laugh concerning Cadillac cars before I went in to buy grapes and berries. I stopped at the Mediterranean grocer on the way home for olives and hummus and the Palestinian guy that runs the place looked pretty down. I asked him how he was and he said “eh, I’m getting by” and I said good for you man, that’s the best any of us can do and he smiled and said you’re not wrong. It was a good morning. I rode home and made some eggs.

“And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don’t realize, or they don’t care, is we’re dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And, we’re not supposed to dance at all anymore.”

— Kurt Vonnegut

“We’re put on this earth to fart around” Vonnegut has been quoted as saying, and I could’t agree more. My neighbors, who are very nice young people with 2 children and 2 very expensive cars, have things delivered by doordash multiple times a day, everyday. I wonder if they miss talking to someone at the grocery store or sitting in cafes? Sometimes it feels like the shared experience of just existing in the world, buying grapes and envelopes and dropping kids at school and having a laugh in the parking lot has been replaced by same day delivery and streaming services and apps and various pieces of technology that we didn’t know we couldn’t live without. I’m no Luddite, but at some point we really seem to have crossed a line.

I don’t know what this has to do with photographs or art or my work or anything, but it’s what I’m thinking about, at least this afternoon. Either way, the full excerpt is below for what it’s worth, but honestly, you should probably get off the internet and go buy an envelope.

I leave with a picture of my kid when he lost his first tooth at a beach bar in Puerto Vallarta back in January. We had fresh guacamole. The tooth fairy paid in dollars. It was a good night…

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DAVID BRANCACCIO: There's a little sweet moment, I've got to say, in a very intense book — your latest — in which you're heading out the door and your wife says what are you doing? I think you say — I'm getting — I'm going to buy an envelope.

KURT VONNEGUT: Yeah.

DAVID BRANCACCIO: What happens then?

KURT VONNEGUT: Oh, she says well, you're not a poor man. You know, why don't you go online and buy a hundred envelopes and put them in the closet? And so I pretend not to hear her. And go out to get an envelope because I'm going to have a hell of a good time in the process of buying one envelope.

I meet a lot of people. And, see some great looking babes. And a fire engine goes by. And I give them the thumbs up. And, and ask a woman what kind of dog that is. And, and I don't know…

And, of course, the computers will do us out of that. And, what the computer people don't realize, or they don't care, is we're dancing animals. You know, we love to move around. And, we're not supposed to dance at all anymore.

Unwritten Notes, Baja California

We came South down the coast, Los Angeles, East to Palm Springs, Joshua Tree, The Salton Sea, on our way to Baja California. We got “randomly” searched by border patrol at a check point somewhere outside San Diego, didn’t like the look of us I guess. Kept asking “where’s the marijuana?” After they were done running ID’s he threw them back at us and walked away, saying nothing. That was a long time ago. Can’t imagine things are anymore pleasant today. Either way, we crossed the border into Mexico that evening.

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No. 0254_00 - The Grapevine, Southern California 2013

We stayed at this place near Ensenada, some retired ex-pat from San Jose had this compound on the coast she was renting out. We arrive and she says “you should meet the dogs if you’re going to be around for the weekend.” Turns out she’s got about 9 dogs in her place, six of which were hers, the rest are up for adoption from the makeshift rescue she’s running out of her place with a couple friends. At that point this goofy Chihuahua-Terrier mutt walks up and instantly latches on to Joanna. We’re told the dog is looking for a home and we can borrow her for the weekend if we want while I’m thinking in the back of my head please stop talking I don’t wan’t to end up with a Mexican beach dog.

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No. 0251_28A - Baja California, Mexico 2013

Anyhow, we ended up borrowing the dog. She followed us around the beach for 3 days, no leash, no collar, we could’t leave her. So that’s how we ended up smuggling a Mexican beach dog across the border, which is infinitely easier than you’d imagine. She was less than a year old when we found her. That was almost 13 years ago now. We named her Frida.

Excerpts from the series “Unwritten Notes” - Photographs Made Elsewhere.

Comprised of work spanning nearly 15 years, the series is largely autobiographical and draws entirely from images made on the road, away from home...

Prints available upon request.

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No. 0280_32 - Frida Fur Pants. San Francisco, California 2014

I'm Afraid of Americans (mostly in Florida)

South Florida is never a place I aspired to spend any amount of time, and yet I found myself flying there the day after the 2024 election (more than a little hungover). My parents spend about half of the year there, my step father was turning 80 years old that week, there was a big to do with family and friends at their home and I was of course happy to be a part of it. But Florida…

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No. 0930_34-35 - Lake Trafford, South Florida, November of 2024

I’ve spent a lot of time in South Florida over the years and the place still confuses and confounds me to no end. Such exotic natural beauty, paved over, commodified, strip-malled and theme-parked into some homogenized American nightmare. The country’s largest retirement-resort. Tax-payer subsidized gated communities. Yet the empty places, the wild pockets, where nature is still aggressive and wild, it genuinely fascinates me. They’re becoming fewer and far between I’m afraid.

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No. 0930_32A-33A - Lake Trafford, South Florida, November of 2024

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No. 0930_36-37 - Lake Trafford, South Florida, November of 2024

The culture at large is far more terrifying. I’ve never felt less comfortable anywhere else, and that’s saying something. David Bowie said it best, I’m Afraid of Americans. “The invasion by any homogenized culture is so depressing.” The MAGA flags are everywhere, and the anger seems palpable. I saw a bumper sticker on a giant bro-dozer pickup truck that read “I Hunt Liberals” next to an NRA logo.

The concrete continues to spread, unabated it seems, and the mentality that the world is here to be exploited seems to permeate everything. Still, these strange wild places continue to exist, somehow, tucked between outlet malls and big box stores, connected by 6 lanes interstates. I wonder how long they’ll last.

Anyhow, Florida is weird and I’m afraid of Americans.

Unwritten Notes, Joshua Tree

Maybe it’s cliche at this point, what with everything good left in the world turning into fodder for aspiring influencers, but I’ve always felt like Joshua Tree was one of those places that absolutely changes you, or one of those places you could really care less about. I am definitely one of the former. It is directly responsible for my somewhat secret love affair with the desert.

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No. 0249_24A - Joshua Tree, 2013.

We stopped in Palm Springs for a night and made a loop through Joshua Tree on our way South. The outskirts of the park feels like one of those places that everyone just decided to forget about. Seems like the desert is full of people that were just passing through one day in 1987, got a flat tire, and never left. The park it self is too strange and bizarre to describe with any accuracy, and if I’m honest, I’ve had trouble making photographs there over the years, it’s simply too overwhelming. I try to go back as often as I can, but it’s been some time now and I’ve got the itch again.

I’m a city boy through and through these days and have been for a long time, but after that first visit to Joshua Tree I’ve had a strange longing to one day just get a flat tire in the middle of the desert, set up shop, and never leave…

Excerpts from the series “Unwritten Notes” - Photographs Made Elsewhere.

Comprised of work spanning nearly 15 years, the series is largely autobiographical and draws entirely from images made on the road, away from home...

Prints available upon request.