Wednesday, December 30, 2015


"It's just beyond the edge of that parking lot" - him

"What?" - her

"Everything else" - him

Lately I've been either the laziest writer, or the least motivated... I'll be realistic and settle on both.  That being said, it has also been both an absolutely fucked-up and amazing year as well... and all those other opposing adjectives that could exist in your average dictionary.  

It's been exactly 3 months since I left my desk in an awkward polygon-shaped office accompanied by standard mini walls, and a forever-missing stapler... 3 years gone lost in a haze, while making the sacrifices needed to travel the world amidst fresh faces and grieving the loss of too many loved ones at such a period of time.  It all went by so quick, yet feels like it's been 10 years.  Most mornings I've found myself waking up in a panic, and most nights I go to bed not too sure if I'm doing things right... til I realize there's no such thing as doing 'things' right, but doing The right thing... for you.  And if that means being rejected for being straightforward or still keeping an overnight bag in the back of a 2 hour commute to a job where I'm not too sure where I'm crashing... then so be it.  At least I'm attempting to stick to who I am, and the kind of person I plan on being.

There's some wishful thinking for ya.

Alamogordo, New Mexico

Amarillo, Texas

Somewhere in Tennessee

In a year, a month, a week, a day or an hour, we can lose some beautiful souls... our jobs... probably some self respect too and find it overrated to get out of bed most days... but we did it. 
This one's for Tanya, Rick, Mike... that hooker we helped get home one night, the spirit bison in Wyoming... to my Bests, and most of all to that god damn forever distant light at the end of the tunnel.

Say what you wanna say, when you wanna say it.  Do what you feel like doing, even if you're barely feelin' it (cause trust me, you be feelin' it).  

Maybe you have to quit your job... maybe you need to follow the wrong love in order to meet the right one... maybe you should just be selfish for a second, maybe you should give everything away... and maybe you gotta jump into a car at the last minute with a backpack and a bottle of whiskey in the middle of the night.  

2015, go kick rocks.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Silk Dreams through the Toll Roads

"It's not just for Christmas mate, it's for Life"

-Scottish man between cigarettes to fellow Scottish friend 

I've drafted the same letter over and over, to still get tongue-tied as I trip over all the roads ahead, and between us.  Lately, as I rounded out the last few weeks at my 9-5 I'm asked what's happening next...  What will I do for work? (my 2 other part-time jobs for now while hopefully selling a painting here and there)... Where will I go? (somewhere warm and desolate)  And before I can answer, I feel my eyes glass over, and my mind race a million miles on the hamster-wheel... while my mouth curves into a smile and I awkwardly dance through my options - I'M GOING TO NEW MEXICO I'M CLIMBING (ANOTHER) MOUNTAIN (MAYBE THE SAME ONE AS LAST YEAR) I'M GOING TO DESIGN CLOTHING I'M GOING TO EXCHANGE "ART" FOR "MONEY" I'M GOING TO MAKE SOME (HOPEFULLY) COOL FUCKING SHIT - I am stamped as clearly unstable (accepted) and quite possibly irrational (also accepted). I get defensive, and then I find... I don't hear a thing - as someone asks where I want to be in 5 years... What is my dream?  I shrug. "Who cares?"  

Only my closest friends can tell you that in the long run I want to have my own gallery, my own shop with foreign jewelry, local art, forgotten clothing and out-of-date music... and have been shunned aside as someone who doesn't understand how much money that costs but doesn't make.  Silly girl, I asked you for what you want, not what you want.  HA! ... perhaps I don't want as much as I deserve too...

I wonder how I felt very early on I'd rather be called unstable than someone who doesn't know money... in the meantime I've wondered why no one asks Who do I dream of being?  Who do you dream of being?  Someone who saves and saves, but says they have the rest of their lives to go somewhere?  What about being someone... or someone who makes enough, but runs away every chance they get?  What is actually enough... Could there be a balance? I sure hope so, because that's what I'm kind of banking on. I don't want to be just happy.  I want to be fucking ecstatic.  I want to further understand struggle.  And I want to stay hungry.  

So I keep my promise to head east for the Brooklyn Invitational (and to roll around in kittens and wine) and find myself beyond inspired by men who glide instead of walk, who are more resourceful than your average raccoon, and that are suckers for romantic comedies.

Silk City, Philadelphia 
September 18, 2015

Somewhere in Brooklyn

I applaud the people who believe in forever.  I don't mean to put that down...  but if you believed in yourself - and not the inspirational 90s posters hanging in your high school counselors office - but believed in yourself - your very being... would you acknowledge the expiration date? And NOT in the way where you blow all your hard earned cash - by no means do I mean that! but would you consider giving away all your things and challenge yourself to thrive somewhere new?  Give back to a community, create shitty art that fulfills your soul.  Could you remember to tell that person you love them?  But most importantly, take some time for yourself... My best friend and I quote a book so often, I see that now we might just be trying to justify our forever-discontent with being just okay... I will spare you any more half-asleep conversation and leave all this mumbling here:

Everybody knows they're going to die, but nobody believes it.  If we did, we would do things differently.

Hope you enjoyed these shots... because I was drunk and/or hungover while shooting.