the sky and the pacific are vast universes full of mystery, my favorite voids to fill with imagination. i am partial to the moon, ruling my cycle and moods, tugging at my tides. what if the sky is not just a flat, one dimensional top to a photo but a mural of its own? what if the ocean isn’t just a giant bath but a dynamic entity in constant movement? i seek to find the character within the emptiness, visually creating outfits reflecting their collective moods.
mythic in the collective mind, the california dream evokes utopia. in some ways it is. in others, the dream has died, leaving dystopia in its wake. i photograph the sun, trees and flowers with hazy color auras, recapturing the idealized and ethereal nature of the golden state’s brand, like the lens is tripping on ‘shrooms.
texas has a frequency so out of alignment with my own, disharmony forced me to find beauty in small moments. from butterflies in fairy trees, to sunrise, to a cornucopia of wildflowers, light is everywhere, at all times, even in the depths of our shadow moments.
i loved origami as a kid, transforming a flat sheet of paper into something beautiful with a few delicate folds. flowers have always evoked this sense of wonder and mystery, how a gentle twist here and slight centimeter shift there forms unique beings amongst a species. i lean in to the capture the intricacies, using a short f-stop, to find my own divinity. i didn’t look at my own vagina until i was 32, afraid of its folds and assumed ugliness. like fingerprints, each one is distinct. by capturing this intimacy, i highlight the beauty of a woman’s form while remaining pg.
i’m fascinated by light. how a few moments can change everything. from shadows to dawn, a shift in light changes perception, how one experiences their surroundings. adding color adds merriment or something new entirely. i spend a lot of time looking up, watching light dance on walls and ceilings, how it changes the shape of things.
someone once told me there was a cowboy in my future. believing one day i’d ride a wrangler/poet i instead fell for a few four-legged steeds. animals’ essence is pure, their love true. you know where you stand, sit and get tossed with animal spirits. making them the only portraiture i’ll engage in. giddy up.
funky polaroids series
anyone good at shooting polaroids is a sociopath and i will die on this creative mound. yet, like an insane person, i keep trying because sociopathy seems like a really good survival skill for an artist. I don’t know if there are ghosts in my polaroid or my film got frozen in the fridge but these sure look like something other than what i saw through that archaic viewfinder. huzzah.