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.
Sarah and Kurtis | Bridal Veil Lakes Wedding 7/23/16
I met Sarah and Kurtis on the day that they got engaged, after my friend Kayla had asked me a couple days before if I was free to photograph her best friend's proposal. And then I had the honor of capturing Sarah and Kurtis' engagement photos in the Cascades six months after that. And then we ran into each other on the streets of Queen Anne at 1 am on New Year's Eve. And then I photographed their wedding last summer.
You never know what's going to happen when you say yes.
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.
to the moon and back
after the trembling
and the, “oh, --, here we are,”
there is moonrise
and our assumptions about light
are put to shame
humbled, an attempted alignment
we are amateur chiropractors for our souls
and we stretch further, deeper, with every crack
and discover muscles we never knew existed
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.
zoe, & moon signs
I don't remember the first time I met Zoe; actually, now that I think about it, we might have been playing King's Cup at the boys' old house, sipping Rolling Rock on the floor. There was a day in winter of 2015 that fog rolled into Seattle in a way that fog typically doesn't behave in this city. On that day, Zoe, a few friends, and I marveled at the otherworldly nature of the sunset, playing with dogs as light filtered through the misty air. I don't know Zoe very well, but I know that in the last three years of moving in and out of each other's lives, she has remained a beacon, however brief our interactions. I had the joy of photographing Zoe for my series on womxn in their spaces, and during the couple hours we spent together that afternoon, she gave me a glass of wine, taught me about my moon sign, and burned incense. It was all very lovely - it was blooming.
Rachel & JD | Peter Pan Inspired Discovery Park Engagement
These images were taken in April of 2015 - it's about time I blogged them.
Rachel and JD are dear to me. I didn't know them when we met in the Discovery Park south parking lot, but immediately I knew that we would remain connected outside of a photographer-client relationship. I didn't know that a little under year later I would fly to Malibu to photograph their wedding on a cool winter morning. I didn't know that their engagement photos, filled with proof of their deep and whimsical love for one another, would become some of my favorite photos I've ever taken.
I am thankful for Rachel and JD and their vision for these photographs that I had the honor of capturing. Even though they are now two years old, I feel hope looking at these images. They feel like childhood, and the embodiment of love we imagine when we are children. These photos are play and the exhale of awe when you realize, we made it.
There’s a place, a garden for the young
To laugh and dance in safety among
The shimmering light in the garden of peace
Josh Garrels, Morning Light
Taryn & Brian | Lord Hill Farms Wedding 2/17/17
Taryn and Brian were wed on one of Washington's rare, beautiful winter days.
I don't know how to express what a joy it was to participate in and document Taryn and Brian's union. The day after their wedding I wrote: Taryn, I love you. It has been incredible to watch you grow and flourish over the last four and a half years. From our time at Seattle Pacific to wine-night giggles to celebrating your union with Brian: knowing you and becoming friends has taught me humility, forgiveness, courage, and reconciliation. You are strength. You are intelligence. You are proof of the power of womanhood. Taryn and Brian are a force to be reckoned with. It’s about time they were one.
So here are some images from their day. Cheers!
madeline, reconnection, -
On a midweek morning in December, Maddie called me. I hadn't seen her for three years, but she happened to be in Hollywood, and I was in my Orange County beach town for the holidays. She asked if I was free that day to create together. I told her to come; she said she would brush her teeth, get in the car, and be at my house in an hour and a half. My dog, who never hesitates to assume that visitors are not welcome, met Maddie with a wagging tail and excitement. We ate cheese and crackers and caught up from the last three years. And we made some of my favorite photographs I've ever captured.
These images are the result of our day of rejoicing and reconnecting.
I have a dear friend
who writes about orgasm as blooming.
I don’t know why, but I’ve been mulling over
anatomy and crimson this morning,
considering flaps and folds and the full flora
of the Feminine.
.
The other day while we
sat at the kitchen table,
scooping brie and pesto onto cracked wheat,
walls that have heard all of my
childhood secrets
nodded as she cocked her head and said,
“If you ask the Universe to reveal,
It will.”
.
So I’ve been asking.
And to my surprise,
faces of women,
hens, vixens, lionesses,
female otters who frolic in seaweed patches,
appear behind my eyelids.
I don’t know what it means,
these embodiments of tenderness and ferocity
unveiling themselves from the thicket
but as they reach towards me,
I take their hands, and together, we
step out onto the tundra.
and, as though awakening,
the ice begins to thaw.
.
I massaged my dog’s paws last night
and she lay her muzzle on my knee
I realized that nobody is exempt
from the deep knowing of touch, body.
and I wrapped my arms around her neck
and buried my face into her winter coat.