Unwritten Notes, Los Angeles

I do not like LA. There is entirely too much concrete and everyone drives like petty children on methamphetamines. It’s no good for my blood pressure or my mental health. Nonetheless, I seem to find myself down there more often than I’d like, for whatever reason, and it certainly is a target rich environment for both my judgmental nature as well as making pictures...

No. 0172_50 - Los Angeles, Ca. 2010

On the way home north from Palm Springs we stopped at Hot Wings Cafe on Melrose Avenue, apparently notorious for painfully spicy food, an old haunt of an old friend when he was living down in LA. My buddy and his wife ordered, as did I, and when our wings came out the waitress asks “who ordered mild?” When I replied they were for me, right out of the holster, with no hesitation, she says at full volume “wow, thought these were for the chick…”

Always fun to be emasculated in public by a 19 year old.

I do not like painful food. I really do not like LA.

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.

Unwritten Notes, Palm Springs

I had never been to Palm Springs before when a good friend asked me to be his best man, also a first. I was absolutely flat broke and very recently single and had almost no interest in being a part of anything so wholesome and festive as a wedding, but I agreed. They were getting married at the Ace Hotel, which we lovingly referred to as the “hipster compound.” I stayed at the Motel 6 next door, split between 2 credit cards. It was a weird time and I was in a bad place.

No. 0170_29 - Denny (the Bride), Ace Hotel, Palm Springs, Ca. 2010

The groom tried to set me up with a friend of his from back east that was moving to San Francisco in a few months. She was cute and funny and we hit it off immediately but I was drinking vodka gimlets like they were water and she made the mistake of trying to keep up and ended up sick in her hotel room by about 7pm and I went home alone. Like I said it was a weird time and I was in a bad place.

No. 0172_00 - Self Portrait, Motel 6, Palm Springs, Ca. 2010

Funny, I never fancied myself a Palm Springs fan, but I seem to end up down there at least once a year. These days I stay at The Ace instead of the Motel 6. All the same hipsters are there but now they all have kids and hybrid cars much like myself. The Ace Hotel bar still makes a mean vodka gimlet though.

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.

Unwritten Notes, Oregon

Seems like another lifetime, and I suppose it was, we lived together for some years, it was close to a marriage, at least it was in my mind, maybe that was naive, and in hindsight it was obviously for the best. She was one of those people that did whatever she wanted whenever she wanted, and you had to admire that. We used to head north about once or twice a year to Oregon, a straight shot from San Francisco up the 5 until you hit Eugene, then turn right, and one hour due east to Cougar Hot Springs, probably one of my favorite places on earth. Still is.

No. 0156_27A - Cougar Hot Springs, Oregon. September of 2009.

The drive was an absolute grind, the 5 was a slog, 12 hours if you pushed straight through, but once there we’d camp and rest and soak and recharge, cooking over a fire and falling asleep under the stars. it was a beautiful place, quiet, lush, untroubled. Still is…

No. 0156_16A - Hwy. 5 North, Somewhere in Oregon. September of 2009.

Things have a way of coming to a conclusion on their own. We rode it out for a bit, but whatever we had was never meant to last, too much baggage and not enough substance, other parties involved, things got crowded, and she left me, somewhat unceremoniously, a week after we came home from the hot springs. Last I heard she was down in Peru, evading collection agencies, that was over 15 years ago now. Dodged a bullet on that one…

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.

Unwritten Notes, Las Vegas, Nevada

Las Vegas is not my bag… I don’t gamble, I’m not into the spectacle, the whole thing just drips of white trash Disney Land, diabetes, excess, the deliberate, purposeful waste of resources. I’ve visited a grand total of one time. An old friend reached out when I was in a bad place and really needed an escape and floated the idea, he had a time share and money and the appetite and so we went, for what it’s worth. I spent the long weekend self medicating with Jack Daniel’s. I won’t lie, it was fun, the weirdness of it all, a circus that no one asked for but apparently everyone wanted.

No. 0137_07 - The Riviera, Las Vegas, August of 2008

I saw a wedding party at the Venetian Hotel, dressed to the nines, tuxedos and white dress and brides maids, parents in tow, glowing, and it dawned on me, almost by accident, they were married in a mall food court. I didn’t have the heart to take a picture, it was too surreal…

No. 0138_30 - Lovers, Las Vegas, August of 2008

We stopped at some street front bar, if you could call it that, a hap-hazard collection of plastic tables and chairs and liquor and drunks, a young couple posted up, possibly, likely more inebriated than myself, not care in the world. I made that photograph after having, let’s just say “enough” to drink, hand held, at a quarter of a second, with a 50 year old screw mount Leica. Call it luck. I’ve always felt it was one of those photographs that might make me famous, but alas…

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.

Unwritten Notes From The Central Valley

The city of Shafter might as well have been nowhere, tucked in between Bakersfield and Wasco in the Central Valley of California. One of those islands in the sea of farmland that blankets the middle of the state. Not much of a going concern.

No. 0024_11 - Migrant Child, Shafter, California. October of 2003

I passed through once, working with another photographer that I won’t bother to name, a friend and mentor that turned out to be neither. The migrant camp was quiet, off the grid, spartan to say the least, but children everywhere, in tow, moving with the harvest.

No. 0025_06 - Migrant Camp, Shafter, California. October of 2003

The photograph of the child on the bike always resonated with me. I was nearly finished with school at that time and my work was changing a great deal, starting to take shape, the way I was seeing things was beginning to shift. I submitted the image to a juried show along with a few other frames some years later. The curator rejected them and stated “you need to work on your craft.” Still one of my favorite photographs.

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.