Kaeleigh: thank you for showing up, for unapologetically owning your space, rejoicing in your physicality, for braving the wind and snow with me. Thank you for reminding me that approaching the water with openness and love means that the water won’t always behave as we want or expect, that the water before us reflects the water within us, and still, we enter.
It's wild to remember that I met Jennalyn a year and a half ago when we collaborated together to create her new album cover. We've stayed in contact since then, and when she asked if I could take her senior photos and play with smoke bombs, I knew we would craft some magical images. Jennalyn is incredibly creative and talented, and working with her is always fulfilling and whimsical. Thank you, my friend!
Months in the making, it was simply a blast to photograph these three hysterical, powerful women. Thank you, all three of you, for bringing yourselves in all of your spunk, passion, and love to these images. It was an honor to create them with you.
Christina reached out to me at the beginning of 2017 asking if I would be interested in shooting her intimate family wedding on Shaw Island; as a photographer, these are the emails you hope and pray to have show up in your inbox someday. The more we talked about her wedding, the more excited I became. And when we finally met up at the beginning of the summer for beers, I knew that Christina and Josiah's wedding was going to be a day I would remember forever. I'll let the images speak for themselves, but from their island florals to their profound, beautiful ceremony (a seven spices ceremony, washing each other's hands in rose water, having lavender and rosemary thrown on them after they were introduced for the first time) to taking a quick jaunt out on a kayak, I don't know what to say but thank you, Christina and Josiah, for the opportunity to document such a sacred and wonderful day (I wish that Austin and I hadn't needed to catch the ferry back so quickly so that we could've celebrated into the evening with you!). Cheers to the rest of your lives, I am so thrilled for your union.
thank you again, Christina and Josiah, for trusting me to document your sacred day.
August was taking responsibility for my actions, what I can control and accepting what I cannot, to question the accepted narrative, to ask what movement is productive, to settle into feelings however reluctant I may be, to accept the midst of transition. August was dear to me. In August, I became acutely aware that my time in Seattle is limited. Although I don't know when or where or how a transplant to a new place will occur, as the days have gotten shorter and Autumn has begun to whisper into the trees, I have felt deep anxiety about the approach of the Grey. Nights are beginning to cool and the light turns orange in the evening, sunsets are swift and afternoon shadows are longer. We seem to be opening every pore to the sun, desperate to hold a piece of it near to our collective heart for when the dark arrives.
In August, Neo-Nazis and white supremacists marched through Charlottesville and killed a woman protesting in the streets. August reminded white America of our evil and our responsibility. August humbled and infuriated us; there's a lot to say, and I'm still making sense of it, still trying to find the right words and actions to confront such atrocity, and most importantly, still trying to listen, still remaining present to my very existence, my lineage that has led to my comfortable life and privilege, being the result of the oppression and genocide of people of color.
Austin, Danny, and I drove to Wyoming for the August 21st total solar eclipse. Two of my dear friends from Arizona, Heather and Caleb, met us there, and the five of us spent three days roaming and cooking and participating in the great migration across America to watch the eclipse (we also saw 41 out of 50 state license plates in three days, so even objectively the trip was a success). I hold those days close to me as I write these words and make this post. To attempt to describe the eclipse is useless, for even just watching videos of it makes my heart beat faster and my body ground itself in the present. But in my anxiety about winter, and about the Dark as a feeling, the eclipse is a reminder of Light, and Return, and that the holiness of this life is steadfast even when seemingly extinguished, and what we curse to be a thief of Light is still remarkable and celestial. The light and dark can and must coexist, and when we can find harmony with their coexistence and affirm their duality, we can gasp and weep in wonder at what was there all along.
August began with smokey skies and ended with flickers of autumn. Austin and I moved in together in its last days and we are officially a cohabitation boat couple, as ready as we will never be. I watched a German Shepherd for a few days after we returned from Wyoming and soaked in final moments of solitude that living alone brings; I bought a pass to the local pool and began swimming laps, helping my body find its fins again.
Thank you, August; you were a month full of new beauty and boat projects and movement and unexpected moments of grand gratitude.
I grew up in a world where men had dominion
and God was a word of fear and punishment.
I don't know where to land, now,
in a world of Other,
where flowers sing color, and summer;
and god is no longer harsh, but
Goddess holds me in the morning and
eagles skim their wings along rivers
and relationship runs deep and steadfast.
however, my old world, of regulations that bound my hands and heart, as my feet tried to propel
me through the salt water that called my soul home to intimacy and honesty,
did teach me: that a light shines in the darkness
And the darkness has not overcome it.
And these slivers of light in the eternal
cascade of darkness,
bring me back to you, and you, and You.
the land now beneath my fingernails and in my lungs is the same breath that my people provide;
they have relieved and guided me, from near and afar, through the moon, and letters woven
through years and miles, and vulnerability.
we will find our places, eventually, together.
I'll be there with you, and we'll exchange mugs and tea and soaps from far away islands.
You are the light that remains, the ring of reminder and trust that draws us, once again,
together.
Every time I work with high school seniors, I am humbled. It is a privilege to work with young adults and capture them in ways that they potentially have never seen themselves before. Having the opportunity to photograph young people at the cusp of a turning point in their lives is an honor and joy. Thank you, Clara, for running around in the glory of end-of-August light with me. Even in just the hour and a half of shooting together, I was struck by your kindness and steadiness, and I cannot wait to see where the next few years will take you! Cheers!
Having the opportunity to work with couples like Stacy and Nick is what makes wedding photography worthwhile and fulfilling in the chaos of the summer season. Their day was full to the brim with color, culture, life, and love. A mariachi band played throughout the ceremony in honor of Stacy's heritage, and a number of traditional Samoan dances were performed during the reception in honor of Nick's. August 11th was vibrant and laughter rang across the Kelley Farm. Thank you, Stacy and Nick, for trusting me to capture your beautiful and glorious wedding. Cheers to the rest of your lives together!
I met Kendal months ago on Queen Anne hill, where we grabbed a cup of coffee at El Diablo and talked photography, tattooing, and the importance of art in our lives. From our first interaction, I knew that capturing her wedding was going to be nothing but ease and fun. From the quirk of their Oxbow Park ceremony, filled with laughter and tears, to dancing kicked off with the "Chicken Dance," Kendal and Ben's day of celebration and commitment was full of color and whimsy. Thank you, you wonderful humans, for the opportunity and trust to document your wedding day. Cheers!
"To die is not a bad thing. Cells die every day. Paradoxically, it is how the body lives. Casings shed. Coverings fall away. New growth appears. It is how we stay vital. Likewise, ways of thinking die like cells, and we suffer greatly when we refuse to let what's growing underneath make its way as the new skin of our lives. It is the stubbornness with which we we refuse to let what's growing underneath come through that pains us. It is the fear that nothing is growing underneath that feeds our despair. It is the moment that we cease growing in any direction that is truly deadly...
...When resisting this process, we become a troubled guest, moaning like a human crow. We double the pain of living when we try to stop the emergence that all life goes through. Imagine if trees never shed their leaves, or if waves never turned over, or if clouds never dumped their rain and disappeared...
...I say this as much to remind myself as you: Little deaths prevent big deaths. What matters most is waiting its turn underneath all that is expending itself to prepare the way." - Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening: August 9th
I have only seen the sweet peas at Discovery Park bloom once before, but they are absolutely spectacular. When Kennedy and I spotted them glowing beneath the smoky sun that Seattle has been sweating beneath for the last week, I knew we were going to create some incredible images together. Thank you, Kennedy! You are so vibrant and beautiful, and it was a joy to frolic through the flowers with you. Cheers!
