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

It's been a summer...

The first week of June my son got flattened at the roller rink in the park by a 170 pound man. The kid pulled a muscle in his ass and spent a week on the couch and another week limping around like his old man. It was a rough entry into summer break.

No. 0956_29A - Thomas, Barcelona Metro, Spain. August of 2025.

My father in law has been ill for some time and broke for even longer, so we moved him up to the City in July only to find out that he’s had congestive heart failure for likely the last 3 years. Nothing worse than being sick and poor in America.

We had a lovely trip to Barcelona and a rowdy family reunion back home in San Francisco, and last week my mother in law totaled the car.

No. #0949_24 - Thomas, San Francisco. June of 2025.

It’s been a summer… First world problems. Problems none the less. Everything, all at once. I’ve had little time to read or write or look at negatives or make prints. Although, I’m sitting in bed looking out at my garden as I write this with no illusions as to how fortunate I really am. With a little luck things will calm down a bit before the holidays set in.

Looking forward to winter.

August 12th, Barcelona, 2am...

Traveling with a six year old is not for the weak. The food drama alone is a nightmare, and my child is a notoriously good eater. Last night he ate an entire medium pizza, uninterrupted, without making a sound. Two nights ago that same pizza was “too spicy” and he threw a fit.

I'm entirely aware these problems are not unique to my family, but still…

In any event I'm hot and sweaty and full of tapas and good wine and all is well at the moment. Feels very far away to be honest, however fleeting. Makes me realize there’s another way to live, regardless of geography or circumstance.

There's a warmth here, to this place, a quality of light, a haze in the air, and the croquettes are to die for…

Unwritten Notes, Kelso Dunes

Kelso Dunes is one of those places in California in the middle of nowhere that only really shows up on a map if you know where to look. It’s desolate and remote and absolutely stunning, a 45 square mile patch of sand 100 miles East of Barstow in the Mojave Desert surrounded by what appears to be endless, empty, sun-baked country.

Kelso Sand Dunes, the Mojave Desert, California.

No. #0510_14A - Kelso Sand Dunes, California. January of 2017.

It became overwhelmingly apparent that afternoon that I’d become a City boy and there was no going back, having made the two and a half hour drive from Palm Springs into the deep desert with little more than a single bottle of water serving two adults (and a small dog), though miraculously I was traveling with three cameras and at least fifteen rolls of film, just in case.

Anyway, we made out in one piece. No sand worms to speak of.

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.