Unwritten Notes

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.

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.

Unwritten Notes, Lake Tahoe

I don’t ski, never really did, for a whole slew of reasons, but especially now, seeing as I have become quite brittle as I’ve gotten older. I’m more of a “ski-lodge” enthusiast, things involving fireplaces and bourbon and not snow I must interact with at high rates of speed. Either way, we ended up in Tahoe in February at what was billed as a cozy log cabin in the woods.

No. #0433_06A - Lake Tahoe, California. February of 2016.

What we found upon arrival was in fact a two room mobile home, with a fake log cabin facade, in a trailer park, surrounded by other fake log cabin mobile homes, in what I can only assume was someones idea of a practical joke. The queen size bed could only be exited from the end on the left side, which should paint a picture of the square footage we were dealing with. There were some trees, not exactly what I’d call a woods. False advertising would be an understatement.

No. #0432_15A - Fallen Leaf Lake, California. February of 2016.

We had a fine time, accommodations not withstanding, we took some long lovely walks, Tahoe is quite beautiful. We found a casino across the border in Reno with a penthouse bar that made the entire excursion much more bearable. No fireplace, but plenty of bourbon, and no snow to interact with. Don’t think I’ve been back to Tahoe since.

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, Islamorada

I found myself in South-West Florida in January and somehow convinced my step-father to let my wife and I take his Corvette down to the Florida Keys for a long weekend. It was the first but not the last time I’ve been down to the Keys. I should’ve learned my lesson.

No. #0420_18A - Islamorada, Florida Keys. January of 2016.

We stayed at a place lovingly referred to as the Pines and Palms Resort. It was essentially a glorified motor lodge with no pines and very few palms and could hardly be considered a resort. It did have a pool and a bar and a guy with a gray pony tail playing Jimmy Buffett and Grateful Dead covers on an acoustic guitar. In fact every place we went seemed to employ the same leftover deadhead with a guitar playing cover tunes, like they were part of some local leftover union of musicians.

No. #0422_26A - Hotel. Islamorada, Florida Keys. January of 2016.

The Keys are beautiful, but when you start looking closer it get’s pretty weathered and a little grim, a theme park that never really caught on, then ran out of money, and the employees all decided to hang on until someone shuts the power off, and that was back in 1968.

Let’s be honest, Florida is weird.

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.