Brittney and Taylor | Newport Beach Wedding 4/30/17

I have known Taylor since we were twelve years old, so you can imagine my joy when he told me that he was interested in booking me as him and Brittney's wedding photographer. In December, I met Brittney for the first time on a gloomy day in Laguna Beach, but immediately, I knew that working with the two of them would be full of goodness and light.

Brittney and Taylor were married on a glorious springtime Southern California day, the perfect, unusual balance of gentle seaside wind and bright, warm sunlight. We ran on the beach after their ceremony and reveled in their union and commitment together.

Thank you, my friends, for trusting me to document your beautiful day. Cheers!

Down the Coast, Through the Desert: Part One

It's been five days since we left Seattle for the green hills of Northern California, headed south for the families and the soul tribe and the sunshine (and the wedding I'm shooting on Sunday, but that's really just the monetary reasoning for this trip; we've needed an exhale). 

We have sat with brews in hand in the Portland dusk, pranced with the mountains, discussed philosophy with many creatures, awoken to the California springtime sun grazing the tips of hillsides around our tent. We have painted one another and breathed and sat by the fire in reverence. We have continued to learn that self love begins with realizing that you don't have to apologize for existing. We have affirmed one another in our bodies, reminding each other there is no shame in the physical space we inhabit. We have held one another in gratitude and grace.

I am thankful for Butch and Laurie, Shannon and her husband, my dear Elise, and all the other souls who we have encountered and helped us along on this lovely journey we seem to have embarked upon.

(photos of me and Elise by my beloved Austin and Elise)

a KallieD birthday bash

Kallie is a woman of deep, fierce kindness. Last night, we celebrated her 25th trip around the sun with whiskey, nail painting, Big Little Lies, the best damn birthday cake I've ever had, and lots of belly laughs. 

These are people who know how to lift up their loved ones; it was an honor to bounce along in the festivities. We were all very full, and our eyes were dancing with light.

recently (mostly photos of sam and danny)

We hiked the Oyster Dome outside of Bellingham for Evan's birthday. He got banana all over his backpack and snacks. We went to Aslan Brewing after our uphill jaunt and drank tasty 21 oz brews and ate mac n cheese. My sister, Austin, and I went to the sunrise Easter service at St. Paul's. We went to Brooks' apartment for brunch. We went to the Fremont market and sat by the canal, then went to Gasworks, then took my sister to the Discovery lighthouse for the first time. Austin and I drove home to West Seattle and went to the 5 pm St. Paul's bonfire service on Alki. Sam and Danny came over and we played Carcassone and we laughed a lot. It was a holy weekend of sorts. 

Today I finally restocked on loose leaf licorice and rose and bought hops for my tea for the first time! I treated my friends and I to a 100% cocoa chocolate bar. Miro isn't going to serve crepes anymore (truly a staple of my time in Seattle tbh it's a sad sad thing), so I savored my last bite of their brie and fig jam crepe glory alongside a pot of red roobios. Hannah and Austin sat beside me quietly and we did our separate works. And it rained. Today was life, and it was good, whatever that means. And now I sit alone in West Seattle, listening to Hozier and drinking my new teas and exhaling.


Pine Manor - The One Life We're Given ft. Mark Nepo

Last weekend, my mother, my partner, and I spent three days in the Saddleback Mountains east of San Juan Capistrano at a small retreat center called Pine Manor. Mark Nepo, one of my favorite poets, philosophers, and spiritual teachers, led our small group of twenty five through the rhythms of his work and mesmerizing stories. It's hard to articulate what a weekend of intentional spirit breath can do for the heart and mind. I take pictures when I can't find the words, and I'm still at a loss. But beauty, translated in some capacity, can offer a glimpse into my internal wonderings and weepings of relief and hope.


"Like light of the sun

spilling out of the sun,

the spirit within

beams its way

through all our cracks

till our most treasured

walls come down."

- Mark Nepo


good morning. went to bed at 10:30 last night, woke up at 7:50. stretched and praised the morning glimmers. the sun poured through my balcony window. i peeled and placed a temporary tattoo on my chest. it feels very right there.


cracking colors (body paint experiment #1)

"We still might feed the dark thing in us

that grows away from the light

until against all sense

we mysteriously flower

in the other direction."

- Mark Nepo

body paints by yours truly

Annie and I sat in a small clearing amongst wildflowers, tall as we were. We listened to James Vincent Mcmorrow as I let my brush dance across her breasts. The flowers gave their input and inspiration, and together, we created.

bits of home, gentle nostalgia, new traditions, etc

I have become a professional at the flight from Seattle to Orange County. Ever since I moved to the Pacific Northwest four and a half years ago (that feels bizarre to type), I have probably made the journey 15-20 times, to the point where now, I am not even exhausted from the frantic ordeal of security and cramped legroom for two and a half hours. It is wonderfully normal to be picked up by my best friend and trot off to lunch or a tasty luxury treat and enjoy each other for a few hours before I head south to my silly beach hometown. It is a nostalgic thrill to sit in her small white car and blast mediocre pop songs and laugh, simply at each other's company. It is good to sit on the upstairs balcony of Pizza Port with my partner and drink good brews and watch the final remains of the warm Southern California sunset. It is good to drive to the top of the world, carelessly listening to a new album, and watch the flickering headlights of strangers careen down I-5, perhaps to San Diego, perhaps even to Seattle eventually. It is good to walk on the beach trail without shoes and sip a lavender caramel iced latte and pour water on my dog's head to keep her from overheating in her winter coat. Salt and sunscreen and seaweed and two day old bonfires are the smells of my adolescence. Cracked heels from hot pavement and light sunburns on my forearms are grounding, in a peculiar and comforting kind of way.

I will never return to this place, but it is good to return to this place.