Monday, June 30, 2014


He had an attitude that gave the impression of grandeur,
but was really just a reaction to low self esteem.
It meant he acted large and important, but inside felt small and empty.
Which was sad, since everyone could see what he couldn't: 
That his was a magnificent soul -Karen Hutton

Sunday, June 29, 2014



Such a departure from my static sandstone canyons. Not foreign in the least, as I'd grown up among the coastal California landscapes but a whole different world as a photographer. 

Noisy and wet, cold and damp. Walking on these rocks was like walking on concrete shards of glass. The patterns and textures of the natural jetties were beautiful and with each wave, little waterfalls sprung to life. Sea spray danced as the waves crashed and little pockets of tide pools hide their treasures. 


It was moving and rhythmic. 

Melancholy

Primordial

Saturday, June 28, 2014


"You will hear thunder and remember me,
and think: 

she wanted storms..." 

Anna Akhmatova

Monday, June 23, 2014

Recent trip to visit  family and explore the California coast. I stayed in Southern California for a bit then headed north to the central coast and Big Sur area.  Then I shot over a bit west  to explore Yosemite. Quite an amazing road trip!

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Open Book


When the artist is alive in any person, whatever his kind of work may be, he becomes an inventive, searching, daring, self-expressive creature. He becomes interesting to other people. He disturbs, upsets, enlightens, and opens ways for better understanding. Where those who are not artists are trying to close the book, he opens it and shows there are still more pages possible.” 
― Robert Henri 


Never let anyone tell you how to express yourself, find yourself, your style or how to create and explore your art. Don't let them close your book. Whatever the medium, paint, photography, video, the digital brush or the sable brush, it's YOUR art. There's no wrong way to do it or master it. There isn't ONE expert on the planet to say otherwise or one opinion that matters in the least.

Remember that. Just be.

Open your book, be wonderful, be an expressive creature. 
Damn the torpedos!

Whimsical

Desert Botanical Garden-Yucca

Friday, June 20, 2014




“She was sitting in a garden more beautiful than even her rampaging imagination could ever have conjured up, and she was being serenaded by trees.” 

― Lynn Kurland, Spellweaver

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Desert Botanical Garden-Time To Study



During the Summer months here in the Sonoran dessert going out to photograph means a bit of extra planning. Since I camp out my SUV some areas that I visit and hike often with cooler temps can be dangerous when the heat is on.  My trips are limited a bit but I still want to keep practicing my photography so I'll often head to the Desert Botanical Gardens in Phoenix. 

Fragile Things


"She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet,
 yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon. 
You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her,
 but everything you think you know is wrong. 
Passion flows through her like a river of blood. 
She only looked away for a moment,
 and the mask slipped, and you fell. 
All your tomorrows start here."
Neil Gaiman

Friday, June 13, 2014

Intimate Yosemite



Most of my experience as a photographer in the Sonoran Desert and the surrounding landscapes have been with sandstone and red rock canyon walls.  What struck me about my first visit to Yosemite National Park to photograph (I'd been there as a child) was the granite rock faces. 

I thought they were exquisitely beautiful and powerful.  Strong and bold with artistic color variations and hues.  This combination with these ethereal and wispy waterfalls, a juxtaposition of contrasts of soft and strong and light and dark where immensely alluring . 

Sunday, June 08, 2014

It's A Girl's Life


"That time of day when the sun hasn’t come up yet, but you can already feel it coming. It’s an elusive warmth, like a subtle promise whispered in your ear and you can go on with your day knowing you’ve been given another chance to get it right." 
— Cassia Leo 

Sunrise on Oak Creek 

Saturday, June 07, 2014

Milo And The Magic Stones

“There is more to a boy than what his mother sees. There is more to a boy then what his father dreams. Inside every boy lies a heart that beats. And sometimes it screams, refusing to take defeat. And sometimes his father's dreams aren't big enough, and sometimes his mother's vision isn't long enough. And sometimes the boy has to dream his own dreams and break through the clouds with his own sunbeams.” 
― Ben Behunin

"Milo And The Magic Stones" read from a mother's lap, now rests with your own magic stones, treasures and little boy things where mother's tuck them away to remember those days that now seem stolen. 


Dream your own dreams and dare to dream big,  shine in this world with your brilliant sunbeams.  Make mistakes, make a difference but make your world a place of excitement and wonder. Never doubt that are so loved and so cherished. That will never change. 


Whispered in your ear for all these years "You are my sunshine" and you will continue to be until it shines no longer for me. 


Go conquer the world…

Tuesday, June 03, 2014

Free To Be




Death Valley was about the light. Certain landscapes just lend themselves to an almost animated state washed in the first rays of a sunrise or the simmering glow of a sunset. No doubt about it, Death Valley is one of those places.  My itinerary was this; Sunrise, Sunset and canyon exploration in between and I did this for 6 days.  On several occasions I missed a sunset by misjudging distances but these things happen. A location of note in that I kept moving, hiking, working and exploring from sunrise to sunset in a state of complete and utter blissful exhaustion.  I'd stop into town to eat occasionally, charge camera batteries and when the electronics would spring back to life I'd connect with family and the outside world. For the most part I found myself alone and content. 

Sunday, June 01, 2014



Bewitched by the reflective watery patterns and the soft subtle mirror worlds of sandstone and honest warm canyon light. Pull me in to sit on the sandy edge and peer into the underworld of sunlit stones, lost twigs and curious creek life.

 Let a warm breeze rustle the leaves above and play with my hair.  Let the hours go by without a care to meander, navigate, wade and gaze under rocks.  

Let me see, let me feel, let me always know what's real. Let me never lose my sense of wonder. 

Promises

"She still speaks to the little girl who wanted to be an artist, a doctor, a poet, a wing-walker. She listens when that little girl talks, when she paints pictures of the clouds, when she's drawn something huge in sidewalk chalk. She makes her every day a place for old dreams and new dreams, dreams that tower and dreams that whisper." 
--I Am Her

As a child, my mode of transportation was escapism.  Unfortunate early experiences formed many of my adult beliefs about  trust, friendship, life and the pursuit of happiness.  Finding meaning, goodness and light were concepts I had to search for well outside of my own reality.  I just didn't know it at the time but that search would last a lifetime. 

I'm fairly candid about background, my childhood was tough. Survival instincts unfortunately for some come at a young age.  Back then, I never questioned its origin, the instinct was just always there as long as I could remember.  In the darkest days, I felt guided by an inner voice, a calm voice that had a sense of wisdom, compassion and incredible kindness.  That voice would lead me often out of danger, walk me through the pain and assure me that I was indeed worthy of that light that I knew was just around the corner. You're gonna be ok... I listened with complete and utter trust. 

Searching and exploring became an early childhood theme and often had precarious consequences. I explored the city in the underground aqueduct systems, sometimes running into a subset of people who lived there. I had a fascination with the neighborhood train and despite my mother's warnings that playing with the train would result in losing my legs, I hopped on it and rode it hanging off the side ladders. I sat on our roof often and daydreamed. I escaped out my upstairs window to roam the city at all hours of the night. I ran away from home several times in elementary school, once to go live inside Disneyland. I had it all planned out.