Wintering

No. 0957_16A Self Portrait, Barcelona, 2025.

I came across this word awhile back, wintering… feels quite descriptive to say the least. I’ve been in a bit of a self imposed hibernation for the last month or so, a sort of torpor in the days leading up to Thanksgiving and the holidays that are always pretty hectic around my house. I did have a little time to sift through some self portraits from the last year or so that I’ve been putting off.

It’s a silly, vapid thing to do, but it interests me none the less. I absolutely hate the word ‘selfie’ and what it’s become, but quite enjoy the idea of the self portrait as an artistic pursuit, if for no other reason then the record it produces. Proof of a life, as it were. I have an archive of images going back over 25 years at this point. Seems worth noting that while the work has changed, so have I as well.

I’ve added a handful of new images to the “Self Esteem” gallery from the past year. It’s cathartic I suppose, collecting these little bits of myself from over the years. Either way, if you’ve got some time to kill, it’s a somewhat interesting journey from young kid who looks like one of the Allman brothers to “self-portrait of the artist as a middle aged man.”

On a more commerce related note… I’ve found myself currently drowning in prints, both framed and unframed, and am in dire need of a great purge, or I’ll be forced to convert my house into a gallery. Take a look at the shop if you’re so inclined, or quite literally anything from the San Francisco gallery or the Unwritten Notes gallery, I’ve got on hand and ready to ship. Drop me a line if something catches your eye, for yourself, a gift, etc., chances are I’ve got a print laying around that needs a home.

Things I’ve been reading lately…

A Drunk Raccoon Passed Out in the Bathroom of a Virginia Liquor Store
A raccoon broke into a liquor store the other day and drank his fill: rum, moonshine, even peanut butter whiskey. Then it passed out on the floor of the bathroom.

How Silicon Valley Lost Its Spine
It’s hard to square the idealistic YouTube of the late 2000s with the one that in September paid President Trump $24.5 million to settle a meritless lawsuit over his post-Jan. 6 account suspension.

The Shocking Crash That Led One County to Reckon With the Dangers of E-Bikes
Unregulated e-bikes are a growing danger on American streets. In one Bay Area town, a terrible accident finally led to reform.

Unwritten Notes, Death Valley

On January 16th of 2018 my wife was approximately 5 days pregnant. I know this with such accuracy because of the obscene amounts of money and medical intervention required to eventually produce the child. We took a road trip through the desert, I can’t remember why. I think we just needed to focus on something else. We headed South down the 5 to Bakersfield picking up the 178 West to Ridgecrest, the third largest city in Kern county, which honestly, isn’t saying much…

No. #0584_12A - Ridgecrest, California. January of 2018.

black and white death valley mojave desert california

No. #0583_30A / 32A - Panamint Valley, California. January of 2018.

We spent the night in what were billed as ‘eco-pods’ in the middle of the desert. It struck me immediately as the perfect venue to get astronomically high on hallucinogens or to dispose of an unwanted spouse, possibly both. A total of three pods, the two sleeping pods had glass roll up garage doors and a side wall that swung out ninety degrees. The stars were absolutely incredible. The bath / shower pod had a completely open layout, with four shower heads, multiple benches and a drain in the center. Essentially this was a shower sex pod. In the desert.

black and white photograph of a woman and her dog in badwater basin death valley california

No. #0585_20 - Death Valley, California. January of 2018.

We drove into Death Valley the next day and crashed for the night in Stovepipe Wells, a way-station with a mildly depressing motel in the Northern part of the park. I had a terrible hamburger for dinner but got a decent nights sleep and we drove South through the park the following morning.

At the bottom end of Death Valley is a place called Shoshone, population 22. It is comprised of a post-office, a saloon and a small restaurant, at which I had one of the best reuben sandwiches I’ve ever eaten. We headed out, and were in Los Angeles by nightfall.

Excerpts from the series “Unwritten Notes” - Photographs Made Elsewhere.

Comprised of work spanning nearly 15 years, the series is largely autobiographical and draws entirely from images made on the road, away from home...

Prints available upon request.

Unwritten Notes, Santa Cruz

No. #0589_04 - My wife’s legs, Santa Cruz, California. October of 2017.

In September of 2017 I broke my leg, again.

The left one this time, thus bringing my hardware count to a total of 2 plates, 9 screws and a 12 inch rod. It was not my finest moment. We live and learn. I learned that day I am decidedly brittle.

Joanna and I rented a little place in Santa Cruz in October, back in the redwoods up in the hills. I spent a day hobbling around on crutches trying not to fall over. Of course, I fell.

It was decided that my time would be better spent in the bath and not attempting to navigate the cabin. I didn’t argue.

So I spent a long weekend in a claw foot tub, self medicating with Jack Daniel’s and percocet, a sort of last gasp before I had to return to teaching in person.

It wasn’t all bad, I love a good claw foot tub.

 
Excerpts from the series “Unwritten Notes” - Photographs Made Elsewhere.

Comprised of work spanning nearly 15 years, the series is largely autobiographical and draws entirely from images made on the road, away from home...

Prints available upon request.

Notes From The Desert...

Somehow, it always manages to deliver. The perceived emptiness of it, stretching on endlessly. That profound quiet. Weather on the horizon. The slow, inevitable decay of rock into dust. Entropy. Deep Time…

No. #0944_09-10 - Weather, Joshua Tree. The Mojave Desert, California 2025.

The desert never ceases to surprise me. Constantly changing, somehow always the same. We took a run through Joshua Tree in April with some friends, children in tow. The skies were absolutely immense and the weather was mild. One of our companions slipped on the trail and bounced a full foot in the air when she hit the ground. She was later stabbed by a cactus in the ass. She made it out just fine, save for a rather large bruise.

No. #0946_30A-31A - Cholla Garden, Joshua Tree. The Mojave Desert, California 2025.

Such beauty. Unforgiving, to say the least. A shame to think the powers that be are currently treating these protected lands as a garbage can, a real estate prospect, a resource to be exploited at whatever cost or all of the above.

Anyhow, you should go to the desert. It’s good for you.

No. #0944_24 - Thomas, Joshua Tree. The Mojave Desert, California 2025.

Things I’ve been reading lately…

Homelands and Hybrids
”September always brings big moons. The best this year was the one I saw on the Friday before the autumnal equinox: a waning crescent low in the eastern sky an hour before sunup…”

One Word to Change the Debate About Tech
Cory Doctorow’s new book looks to offer comfort, and solutions, to the inescapable feeling that digital platforms have gotten worse.

Greyhound by Joanna Pocock
Combining history, reportage, and nature writing with intimate moments of reflection, Greyhound tells of the journey from miscarriage to parenthood, and the purpose creativity gives to our lives when we feel purposeless.

Untitled...

We ended up with this dog, 13 years ago, a little chihuahua mutt that we smuggled north out of Mexico. Turns out it’s extraordinarily easy to get a dog across the border. You really just drive north and pretend the dog is yours. No questions asked. We told everyone she was a Dreamer, part of DACA. Not as funny a decade later.

No. #0280_32 - Frida Fur Pants, San Francisco 2014

She settled in just fine to urban life, and promptly had a gnarly skin reaction to a rabies vaccine. We told everyone she developed “Paw-tism” as a result. Also not as funny a decade later.

She fought two raccoons on two different occasions one summer and nearly lost her eye. Four years later she developed some sort of strange and un-diagnosable eye cancer that cost a small fortune to remedy. Twice. This dog was a survivor…

No. #0260_32A - Joanna and Frida, Yuba River 2013

No. #0779_31A - Thomas and Frida 2020

She hated the water despite being born on a beach in Baja. She loved to go camping and would turn entirely feral whenever we left the City. When we brought our son home she had a look on her face that could only be described as “why did you bring this helpless, hairless dog home?” The two of them quickly became fast friends when the dog discovered that the child was perpetually covered in food.

My father wasn’t much for advice. He left me with two bits of wisdom before he died…

“Never sleep with anyone dumber than yourself. Never own anything that eats or shits.”

Can’t say I’ve heeded his advice…

I never wanted a dog. I’ve had enough trouble taking care of myself. But sometimes things come into your life, for whatever reason, and you don’t have any other choice than to roll with it. That’s how I ended up with a Mexican beach dog that we named Frida.

I’d be hard pressed to admit it in mixed company, but she was my dog from the beginning. She developed some weird, abnormal form of leukemia at some point. Par for the course. Some part of me thought this animal would out live me. We had to let her go on Monday and I’m absolutely gutted.

It’s dark times out there folks. Find somebody to love…

No. #0463_02A - Frida Fur Pants, Oregon 2016

Things I’ve been reading lately…

On The Importance of Art
a short article by the art historian, art critic, and author John Berger.

Sally Mann warns of 'new era of culture wars'
Mann, whose work is held at major art institutions around the world, is reeling after police seized four of her most celebrated — and reviled — photographs.

A beautiful, broken America:
What I learned on a 2,800-mile bus ride from Detroit to LA