They say in the mountains the fish run free. Down by a creek engulfed in rock, trout glisten with hunger in early morning light. Two days and zero fish later, we call bullshit. But who can complain when a Dunn invites us to partake in family tradition?
More fish after the break. Continue reading
We didn’t have costumes. No buckets of candy neither. Instead we paired a gallon of cider with unrelenting desire to carve the shit out of some pumpkins.
More pumpkin after the break. Continue reading
So. Many. Activities. For four glorious days six boys descended on one Montana cabin and found all sorts of ways to entertain themselves. Wake surfing. Hatchet throwing. Fly fishing. Beer Die. Mountain biking. Hatchet throwing. Everything became a competition, and this bachelor-no-more took home the ultimate prize. Memories. That and the most wins of the weekend.
More bachelor party after the break. Continue reading
A van rumbles down the Outback Scenic Byway collecting high desert dust. She flips through stations fighting static. No luck. The fellow travelers offer no distraction, their lifeless bodies slumped in sleep. It has been lonely these three hours. They’re almost there.
Lakeview, Oregon. A place of little fanfare and even less sparkling water. Gravel pops as they pull into the motel. Hot springs will have to wait.
More Oregon Trail after the break. Continue reading
It’s been awhile since my last post, and even longer since our trip to Papua New Guinea. That said, the images haven’t gotten any less gorgeous. Or I more modest. The process takes patience, ruthlessness and a fair bit of procrastination—but I’m stoked on the final edit and happy to finally share them here.
More face paint after the break. Continue reading
I tend to agree with the photographic philosophy of letting your photos “sit.” I don’t lean them back the La-Z-Boy, peel open a TV dinner and work on their inner spudliness. But i like to let time pass between shooting my images and editing them. In theory the practice removes the excitement of “the moment” and allows for a more objective assessment of the “goodies.” You become lean, mean, and focused on nixing everything in between. Rationale aside, my family would say it’s just an excuse to be lazy. Case in point, Cuba, a killer trip that’s now surfacing after a year of “sitting.” Blame it on the embargo.
More Cuba after the break. Continue reading
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve passed Dusty. You can hear his music before you see him. A soulful riff floating along the outer edges of Washington Square Park. Sometimes it greets you in the morning, lifting you out of a sleepwalking stumble. Other times it meets you after a long day on the clock, a gentle reminder to enjoy what little day you have left. I can’t help but smile when I hear Dusty jamming, and I’ve been carrying around his portrait waiting for the perfect opportunity to pay him back.
More Contact after the break… Continue reading
In a city where skyscrapers dominate shrubbery, it’s hard to imagine that an hour ride can get you into the heart of wilderness. Well not anymore, as I’ve made back-to-back missions from Manhattan to the mountains. From Cold Spring to Bear Mountain, Bull Hill to Doodletown, and Lauren to Dean, it’s an adventure anyway you look at it.
More hiking after the break. Continue reading
My tribe has left me for the West Coast. This cold apartment has gotten a colder. But I take solace in the fact that my pooch is on the job, working long hours to insure the sanity and safety of his Momma. Exemplifying the required qualities of an Emotional Support Animal, he’s a dog born to wear the black and blue.
More Frenchie after the break. Continue reading
Judah was one of those people that I almost passed up, even though the minute I saw him I had to have his portrait. But like anything in life, you never know until you try…
More CONTACT after the break… Continue reading
[gwu] Graham Whitaker Unterberger 