earth walking

3/17/10

down where the trees grow together

and the western path comes to an end.

3/15/10

welcome, ghosts.

January 2, 2008. Chatham, Ohio.

A visit home.

It's so cold. (Beautiful things can be so wicked.)

December 24, 2007. Chatham, Ohio.

Came home on Christmas Eve. Dad was making a sign for the church.

(heavy metal.)

December 22, 2007. Akron, Ohio.

A visit to an old friend. They've moved. (The floor boards are still crooked.)

December 25, 2007. Strongsville, Ohio.

It was so good to hear their house fill with laughter. There hasn't been a lot of it since she died in October. (The dog keeps howling.)

March 12, 2008. Athens, Ohio.

It's such a blur. (It's all so clear.)

February 24, 2008. Athens, Oh.

I can still feel you.

alright. that may be enough of the black and white wintertime nostalgia from the archives for now. a group of OU grads asked to use some of my winter series for a magazine feature, which has encouraged me to dive back into the archives and memories, and begin to re-edit. It's been refreshing to rediscover the photographs. The best thing about diving back into the archives is looking at old moments that are still working their way through my consciousness.

sometimes the most important experiences in your life take a very long time to make sense. or maybe they never completely become clear as one specific meaning, but keep releasing little bits of clarity as time passes like whispers late at night. or maybe they just constantly transform and the meaning just changes every day, every time you look at them.

the world is melting.

January 2010. Chatham, Ohio.

Homestead. It's bittercold outside.

When you left a year ago, the phone became static. I thought the snow hitting the windows was rain tapping. (There would be another 3 months of ice.)

February 6, 2010. Athens, Ohio.

"The trees are so heavy with snow but they're still swaying, so slightly. If that's not a metaphor for something, I don't know what is."

2/28/10

We hid on the roof

and pretended we were kings.

from the archives.

2/25/10

a tired moan.

more from the archives.

2/24/10

boston

this time last year.

feels like

yesterday. a long time. a lifetime.

close to this time, two years ago.

2/12/10

fading memory.

from almost exactly this time, one year ago. i was in vermont.

if i've already posted them, please forgive me.

mouthwings.

2/10/10

untitled

truly

1/21/10

Give. Save. A Mountain.

A close friend of mine, Chad A. Stevens of MilesFromMaybe Productions has been working on an incredible project about mountain top removal and the people fighting to save Coal River Mountain.

The project is currently accepting donations to help with production. It is a powerful, meaningful project working for a good cause, so if you've got any extra to give, then give!

Watch the trailer here.
Donate here.

ps. You can even keep up to date on yee old facebook here.

1/8/10

lover lover lover II

Please let me start again. I want a face that's fair this time.

(a photo from the archives.)

lover lover lover

come back to me.

A couple of months ago I was driving home and felt the intense desire to pull over the car and take a picture of the ginko leaves. As soon as I walked over to them, I saw the leaf angel. I'm always reminded to be thankful for life's little, quiet, magical surprises.

Take this longing

1/6/10

Feature Shoot

I'm honored to have a few pictures up today on the Feature Shoot blog.

1/3/10

knickers for the new year

12/30/09

Two Thousand and Niner

I've been editing through photographs from this last year, catching up and slowly chipping away at making a new website. With each grouping of pixels, I'm reminded of all of the surprising and amazing things I've been lucky to experience, and the incredible people, places and emotions I've encountered. As I scan through the thousands of raw files and dozens and dozens of selects, all I can think to myself is 'my god, what a wonderful life.' The photographs all flash before me: a memory, a thought, a question, an answer, a fleeting feeling or dream or tiny miracle that once happened before my eyes, and I sit awe-struck. This year has been full of love, pain, and growth, as any good year should be. One year ago I had just moved back from NYC and before I knew it I was in Vermont trying not to freeze, then a cabin in the woods of Athens, Ohio battling huge spiders and waking up to red foxes, then back home on the farm for harvesting the garden, then in a new home with my non-biological sisters, waking up everyday to laughter and falling asleep every night with a heart bursting with love, and here I am now, sipping on coffee and watching the snow falling.

I am so thankful for every one of you and for this glorious chance to be alive and share all of these things together.

Here's to you and you and you.

And here is a semi-random grouping of photographs from the last year, starting at exactly this time one year ago and ending at the first snow earlier this month.