Welcome to My Journal
This isn’t a place for polished press releases or busy updates. It’s more of a notebook — a space for thoughts, works in progress, and the quiet in-betweens that don’t always make it into a gallery.
Here, I’ll share field notes from the coast and woods, reflections on projects like Echoes of Earth and Waters & Working Harbors, and the stories behind certain images that hold a little more weight.
I’m not chasing perfection here, just like I’m not in my photography. I’m chasing mood, memory, and the moments that stay with me long after I’ve packed up the camera.
Thanks for stopping by — I hope you find something here that lingers with you too.
Why I Work So Dark
People sometimes ask why my photographs lean so dark — heavy skies, deep shadows, the weight of water and weather. The truth is, I don’t see darkness as absence. I see it as presence.
Light is easy. It flatters, it pleases, it smooths out the rough edges. Darkness does the opposite. It carries texture, mood, silence. It reminds me that beauty isn’t always bright — sometimes it’s in the grit of a harbor, the hush of a marsh at dusk, or the line of a storm pushing across the horizon.
I’m not chasing perfect exposures or postcard colors. I’m chasing how it felt to stand there — quiet, raw, unsettled, honest. Darkness gives me that space. It turns a photograph from decoration into something that lingers, something you carry with you.
So when you see my work and notice the shadows first, know that’s intentional. That’s where I find the stillness, the tension, and the truth worth keeping.
Chasing Stillness in Motion
The coast is never still. Boats lean against the tide, nets lift and fall, clouds tear across the sky. Even in the woods, the air shifts — a branch creaks, a crow calls, shadows stretch. The world is always moving.
What pulls me in with a camera isn’t the movement itself, but the stillness tucked inside it. That one second when the water flattens, when a trawler sits heavy against the dock, when the forest feels like it’s holding its breath. It’s there, but only if you pay attention.
Photography lets me hold that moment. It freezes the pause inside all the noise. It reminds me that calm isn’t something you wait for — it’s hidden in plain sight, waiting to be seen.
That’s what I’m chasing. Not just the beauty of a place, but the stillness inside its motion.