After late hours editing (and a few more rotoscoping) I’m pumped to share the highlights of our honeymoon. At least the parts that are safe for work. What’s better than waking up, jumping in, and cruising the reef with your wife?
Well, maybe whale sharks. They’re awesome.
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
On the eve of a great man’s 60th birthday we took a trip to parts unknown. Inspired by faded images of a bygone era, we attempted to recreate a simpler time in the backwoods of Oregon. A time when boys were scouts. The sea was rough. Yin Yangs were cool. And so was Patagonia.
More Rob Elliott after the break. Continue reading
I used to pray for waves. Then I bought a Nikonos. Don’t get me wrong, a long day of surf beats almost anything out there. It’s just green flags don’t spell doom anymore. Lake Laguna means I get to break out my diving buddy, and there’s something so appealing about this camera. You want to hold it, shoot it, generally drool over it (which you can, cause it’s waterproof). Remember those dinky disposable cameras they sell in Hawaiian gift shops? Remember daydreaming about shots that may or may not come out? This thing is that damn exciting, except you end up taking decent pictures.
More Nikonos 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
A story of resurrection. No, not one with a bearded dude coming out of the ground for extra nights of partying, but rather a story of photographic redemption. It goes a little something like this…
There’s a poem after the break (how’s that for a tease?) 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
[gwu] Graham Whitaker Unterberger 