What's Real. What Isn't. Why Does It Matter?

We spent a bit of time last January in Puerto Vallarta with some close friends. Traveling with a 6 year old is not for the faint of heart. As such, we travel heavy, and we travel well. By well, I mean airbnb’s, housing swaps and bougie rentals. By heavy, I mean we travel with a lot of Legos, children’s books and action figures. Certainly not the low budget shoe string travels of my youth…

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No. 0936_04A-05A Yelapa, Mexico. January of 2025.

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No. 0935_16A Thomas with Legos, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. January of 2025.

Where we stayed in Puerto Vallarta is basically the Castro district in San Francisco with cobblestones and worse parking. In fact, we ran into several people over the course of the week that we knew from the City. We had a grand time, eating too much and consuming wildly too many margaritas. The last night of the trip one of our traveling companions stated “this has been fun, but it’s not the real Mexico.”

I laughed it off at the time and completely forgot about the comment until I started looking through the film I’d exposed while we were there. It begged the question, what is the real Mexico? It certainly looks real enough in the negatives. I’d imagine the people that live in Puerto Vallarta feel like it’s pretty real. What’s the real San Francisco? Does it include Fisherman’s Wharf and Pier 39 and the rest of the tourist traps? Or do we exclude those places and experiences from the common definition of what constitutes the “real” in the City? For the record I absolutely abhor Pier 39 but love a bread bowl of clam chowder from a street vendor in Fisherman’s Wharf.

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No. 0941_34A Mahi Mahi Fish. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. January of 2025

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No. 0941_34A Fisherman. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. January of 2025

The guy I found unloading giant Mahi Mahi fish in the back of his pickup looked and sounded pretty real. I asked if I could get a pic and he said ‘sure Cabrón’ and held one up for the camera. This question of authenticity really escapes me if I’m honest. The fog over Banderas Bay and the young men fishing off the pier at sunset and the dudes walking around in t-shirts emblazoned with “MEXICAN VIAGRA” all seem real. At the very least they existed. I have it on film. Does that not imply some semblance of authenticity?

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No. 0939_22-23 Banderas Bay. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. January of 2025

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No. 0941_20A Fisherman, Playa Los Muertos Pier. Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. January of 2025

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No. 0942_25A ‘Mexican Viagra’ Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. January of 2025

Anyhow we took a water taxi and saw whales and ate tacos. We got drunk and hung around the beach at sunset and my kid lost his first tooth. My wife came home with a shot glass from the drag bar in her purse and no recollection of how it got there. It all felt pretty real and authentic and it was in Mexico, so there’s that. I guess we’ll go looking for the real Mexico next time.

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No. 0940_02A Sunset, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. January of 2025

Things I’ve been reading lately…

The Rise of End Times Fascism
The governing ideology of the far right has become a monstrous, supremacist survivalism. Our task is to build a movement strong enough to stop them.

You Should Hire A GenX-er With An Art Degree Before It's Too Late
There's been a radical shift, you're going to need a special set of skills.

Nothing To Say
Somewhere along the way, I decided I have nothing to say. This happened gradually, imperceptibly, much like aging happens

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.