Man. How do you describe the birth of your child? Expletives and emotions come to mind. And tears. Lots and lots of tears. In the four months since Elliott joined our family, I find it hard to travel back. Not because I can’t. Or don’t remember. But because so much has changed, there is so much to look forward to, and I am so thankful to have her in our life.
More Elliott after the break. Continue reading
I sold myself short. At the end of Blackwelder St. Shapour sits outside at 3pm waiting for his driver. Rain or shine, torrid or tepid, he’s always out there. Dressed like a boss. One day I time it right and ask to take his portrait. Weeks go by, I print a few in the darkroom, and hope to give them to him the next time I see him. When I finally do, he asks “How much do I owe you?” What a sweet heart. I tell him nothing, and that it was a pleasure to take his photograph. He smiles and thumbs through the prints, stopping at the last one. It’s my favorite. An artsy little number that doesn’t include his face. “This one’s no good,” he says. I think to myself, “that’ll be $50.”
More CONTACT after the break. Continue reading
What did we do? That was the name given to the Sunday BBQ after Lauren and I made it official. While the question was rhetorical, it didn’t really matter as the younger generation wasn’t ready to answer morning after, about the night before. Luckily, there’s no better remedy than pulled pork and shenanigans.
More Day After, 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
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
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
When the momma is away, the boys will play. Oliver seemed puckered about the impending move. He needed stress relief, I had a few frames to burn, so we filled the tub and jumped in.
More Frenchie after the break… Continue reading
New rule. It is OK to do a late holiday post, as long as said post goes up on another holiday. The logic is sound, and I’m sticking to it. Today we flashback two months to our nation’s independence, and what has now become the traditional pooch-pool-party.
More images after the break. Continue reading
I’d seen these two around the park before and always surrounded by a crowd (deservedly so, that’s a freaking cockatoo riding a bicycle). But I’m more of a one-on-one guy, so when I saw Ronny in a rare moment of peace, I decided to change that.
More Ronny (and if you stick around, my new favorite portrait) after the break. Continue reading
[gwu] Graham Whitaker Unterberger 