The Last Photoshoot of 2024
The Last Photoshoot of 2024
As 2024 came to a close, I managed to squeeze in one final photoshoot to wrap up the year on a creative high note. It felt like a perfect opportunity to work with people I admired, so I reached out to Gabrielle, my friend, model, and muse. She’s someone I’ve collaborated with on countless occasions and can always count on to bring magic to the lens. I also invited Sammi, a talented model I’d worked with earlier in March, but hadn’t had the chance to reconnect with since. Thankfully, she was excited to join, and the timing couldn’t have been better.
Finding the right space for this shoot was surprisingly easy, thanks to platforms like Peerspace. With just a few clicks, I booked a charming and affordable studio in Orlando, Florida. It had the perfect blend of character and warmth, setting the tone for what I hoped would be an unforgettable session.
Our time was limited—just a couple of hours to make the most of the space—so once Gabrielle and Sammi arrived, we got straight to work. Despite the time crunch, I’m thrilled with how the photos turned out. Of course, not every shot is destined to be a masterpiece, but we captured more gems than misses, and that’s always a win in my book.
If I could go back and change one thing, it would have been to book an extra hour. I had 2-3 rolls of film sitting in my bag, untouched, as we focused entirely on digital photography. I kept thinking about how different the energy of film feels—its rawness, its imperfections, its soul. It’s a lesson I’ll take into my next shoot: prioritize film first and let digital take the backseat, or maybe skip it altogether.
For now, though, I’m happy to share a few of my favorite images from this session. If you’d like to see the full set, head over to my Patreon for an exclusive look. Here’s to more creativity, more connections, and more stories to tell in 2025!
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A Rough Start to 2025
A Rough Start to 2025
There’s a joke circulating online that goes something like this: “I’d like to cancel my subscription to 2025. My 7-day free trial was a disaster.” And honestly, I get it. It seems like everyone has their own reasons for why the year might not be off to the smoothest start. Mine? I got sick.
It all began when my wife, Leslie, brought something home—a nasty bug that took her down first. For a few days, I held out hope that my immune system would hold strong against whatever storm she unleashed into our house. But by Wednesday, the cracks in my defenses started showing. I imagined myself as a general in a fantasy epic, yelling "HOLD THE LINE!" to my immune cells like Aragorn rallying the troops. Unfortunately, my immune system wasn’t as cooperative as the Rohirrim, and by midweek, my metaphorical walls came crashing down like Helm’s Deep in The Lord of the Rings.
To make matters worse, the timing of my downfall couldn’t have been less ideal. Georgia was forecasted to get snow on Friday—a rare treat here—and I love snow. Growing up in Utah, I spent countless winters skiing on mountain slopes, but it’s been well over a decade since I last saw snow in person. So even though I was sick, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at the thought of snowflakes falling again.
Thursday, though, was pure misery. Feverish and alternating between freezing cold and burning up, I couldn’t do much more than just exist. It was one of those days where the best you can hope for is getting to bedtime without falling apart completely.
But Friday morning brought a glimmer of hope—literally. I woke up around 8 a.m., still feeling awful, but determined to drag myself downstairs to see the snow. And there it was, falling softly outside, blanketing the world in white. For the first time in years, I felt that childhood joy of watching snow transform the ordinary into something magical.
Now, here’s the twist: my wife, Leslie, had never seen snow before in her entire life. Growing up in Florida, her winters were all palm trees and sand, with no snowflakes in sight. She’s not a fan of the cold, either, so I assumed she’d take one look outside and retreat under a pile of blankets. But to my surprise, she came downstairs, bundled up in layers, and declared she was ready to experience snow for the first time.
Despite both of us still being sick, we ventured outside together. Leslie built her very first snowman (a tiny one, but adorable nonetheless), made a snow angel, tossed a few snowballs, and even remembered the golden rule of snow: don’t eat the yellow stuff. She was completely enchanted, and to my delight, she announced that she loved snow and wanted to see more of it in the future. For someone who grew up dreaming of beaches, this was a huge win.
The snow didn’t last long, though. By Sunday, most of it had melted, leaving behind patches of ice and a neighborhood dripping like it was caught in a rainstorm. The bright sunlight and warming temperatures were quickly erasing the winter wonderland. But for a brief, fleeting moment, we had snow.
Speaking of snow, here is a VERY old video of my brother and I having a snow adventure of our own at Snowbird Ski Resort. This was long before I changed my name to Adam, so please excuse the reference to the dead name.
Flying A Drone Into Fireworks
Flying A Drone Into Fireworks
Have you ever wondered what it would be like flying a drone into fireworks?
We’re only a few days into 2025, and I have to admit—I’m feeling uneasy about what lies ahead. This year carries an ominous weight that’s hard to shake, and though I’m doing my best to stay hopeful, it’s a battle against a creeping sense of dread. There are plenty of reasons I could list for this feeling. I’m worried about my 9-to-5 and what the future holds for me there. I’m anxious about the state of politics and the uncertain direction of America. I’m deeply frustrated by the way some religious institutions continue to groom, manipulate, and exploit their members—all while enjoying tax-exempt status.
To put it simply, I’m worried. But even in the face of that worry, I’m determined to hold onto hope and find moments of joy. So, as 2025 began, I decided to kick it off with something fun, something a little wild. On New Year’s Eve, I had one simple request:
I wanted to fly my drone into a bunch of fireworks.
Midnight came and went, and while I didn’t get to pull it off at the stroke of the new year, later that night in front of my in-laws’ house, I finally had my chance. I launched my drone into the air, right into a cascade of bright, exploding fireworks. Watching the bursts of light and color unfold through the drone’s lens was exhilarating—like capturing a front-row seat to chaos and beauty combined.
I haven’t had time to edit the footage yet, but for now, enjoy this unfiltered, raw video. Here’s to holding onto hope, even when the skies feel heavy, and chasing those moments that make it all worthwhile.
My 2025 Bingo Card
My 2025 Bingo Card
At the start of 2025, I decided to create a bingo card for the year.
Every time something wild or unexpected happens, I always say,
“Well, I didn’t have that on my bingo card!”—even though I’ve never actually had one. So this year, I made it official.
Filling out the squares was no easy task. I wanted a mix of realistic goals, fun possibilities, and completely outlandish scenarios. They’re all scattered across the card in no particular order, but one of the more intriguing entries I added was “The Downfall of Social Media.” Now, it feels like I’m getting closer to marking that one off.
In 2024, we witnessed the spectacular implosion of Twitter (or X, as Musk insists on calling it). Under Musk’s leadership, the platform saw its value plummet by over 80%, and user engagement dropped by around 30%. By the end of the year, it was clear the platform was teetering on the brink of financial ruin, with hundreds of thousands of users jumping ship.
Fast forward to January 2025, and Zuckerberg announced some controversial changes for Meta platforms. Let’s just say his plans and alliances—particularly his apparent pandering to figures like Trump—haven’t exactly won over the public. While the fallout hasn’t been as dramatic as Twitter’s (yet), the steady stream of users leaving Meta platforms is hard to ignore. I wouldn’t be surprised if this year brings a full-scale exodus, mirroring the collapse we saw with Twitter.
Personally, I’ve already started to distance myself from Meta. I made my final Facebook post in 2024 and deleted the app entirely. These days, I’m reluctant to share on Instagram or Threads because of Meta’s practice of using user content to train AI. Instead, I’ve been exploring alternatives like BlueSky and posting more frequently on Patreon.
What’s next for social media? Will these platforms truly collapse, or will they reinvent themselves yet again? I don’t have the answers, but one thing’s for sure: I’m keeping a close eye on my bingo card, and I think I’m getting close to crossing off that square.
Santa Comes Home After A Long Night
Santa Comes Home After A Long Night
Last year, I got a chance to do something really special—a photoshoot with a friend I’ve known since my senior year of high school. She called me out of the blue and asked if I’d be interested in coming back to North Carolina to shoot her and a few of her burlesque sisters. Of course, I said yes. I mean, how could I not?
I was equal parts excited and nervous. It’s been years since we’d worked on anything together, and this was definitely new territory for me. But I love a creative challenge, so we made it happen.
When the day finally rolled around, it felt like stepping into a whirlwind of nostalgia and artistic energy. These women brought such an amazing vibe—confidence, humor, and so much personality. I couldn’t stop clicking my camera; every moment felt like magic.
By the end of the shoot, I had so many photos. Even now, months later, I’m still finding hidden gems I missed the first few times I went through them. That’s one of my favorite things about photography—there’s always something new to discover when you revisit your work.
But the real twist came from another photographer who joined us that day. Out of nowhere, he pulled out a Santa suit he’d brought along and offered to use himself as a prop. Honestly, none of us saw it coming, but it was perfect.
That’s when inspiration struck: What if we turned Santa into the star of the shoot? Picture this—Santa, exhausted from a long Christmas Eve of delivering gifts, coming home to his “reward.” The idea was too good to pass up.
We jumped right in, and the results were hilarious, cheeky, and surprisingly glamorous. I still crack a smile every time I look at those photos. They’re a mix of festive fun and the kind of burlesque elegance that only these performers could pull off.
This shoot was such a great reminder of why I love doing what I do. It wasn’t just about the photos; it was about the energy, the collaboration, and the unexpected magic that happens when you lean into the moment.
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The Winter Solstice
The Winter Solstice
Yesterday marked the Winter Solstice, the day with the least amount of sunlight and the most darkness of the year. For anyone unfamiliar, it’s a moment that holds deep significance in many cultures, both past and present. It’s often seen as a time to set intentions for the year ahead, gather around fires with loved ones, enjoy good food, and, most importantly, to rest. For many, the Solstice feels like the true end of the year—a closing of the season and the start of the gradual return to light.
For much of my life, I didn’t know anything about the Winter Solstice. Growing up Mormon, my understanding of the world was shaped almost entirely by that framework, leaving little room for
exploration of other traditions. It was about a decade ago that I first encountered the Solstice, and its themes and rituals resonated deeply with me. Over the years, it has become increasingly meaningful, a quiet yet profound cornerstone in my personal journey.
Yesterday, I spent the morning gathering materials for what I can only describe as an offering of sorts, placed in my backyard. It was born from a mix of creativity and inspiration, and I’m pleased with how it turned out. While I don’t worship or follow any specific deity, I like to think the universe received it with goodwill.
The rest of the day—and much of the night—was spent by the fire. There’s something grounding about watching the flames dance, feeling the warmth, and letting the smoke cleanse away lingering burdens. Even now, as I sit writing this, I’m wrapped in the hoodie I wore last night. The comforting scent of smoke lingers on the fabric, a subtle reminder of the embers that burned into the night.
As is often the case during moments of reflection, my camera accompanied me, becoming part of my observance. When the sun set and the light faded, I captured a self-portrait—a visual memento of the day. I quite like how it turned out, and it feels like a fitting way to mark the occasion.
To those of you who celebrate the Winter Solstice, I hope it was a day of peace and renewal for you. And as we step into the coming year, may it bring light, blessings, and growth for us all.
My 2025 Goals & Intentions
My 2025 Goals & Intentions
As the new year gets closer, I am thinking about my 2025 goals and intentions. For me, 2025 is about growth and creativity—but also about making real, meaningful changes. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what matters most to me and how I want my life to feel, and this year is my chance to turn those ideas into action.
A big part of that is diving into art in a way I never have before. I’ve always admired art, but this time, I want to get my hands dirty—literally. I want to learn to draw, paint, and understand the stories behind the art I love. Museums around Atlanta are going to be my new favorite hangouts, and I’ve got a whole lineup of books, videos, and practice sessions planned to help me really connect with this side of myself. It’s not just about learning techniques; it’s about seeing the world differently.
Another thing I’m working on is creating more space for what’s important. Social media has a way of eating up my time without me even noticing. This year, I’m setting some boundaries—just an hour a day—so I can spend more time on things that matter, like reading. I’ve always loved getting lost in a great book, and I’m aiming to read two a month this year. Whether it’s fiction or non-fiction, I want stories and ideas to inspire me and fuel my creativity.
I’m also making it a priority to stay connected with the people in my life. That means grabbing coffee with Liz every month, heading to creative s meetups, doing photoshootwith new models, and maybe even bringing my D&D group back to life. These moments—whether big or small—are where the best memories come from, and I want more of that in my life.
Then there’s my health. I’m not just looking to get in shape; I want to build habits that make me stronger, more resilient, and ready for whatever comes next. This means working out consistently, practicing yoga every week, and getting to a point where I can run three miles without stopping. It’s not just about the physical part, though. There’s something empowering about pushing myself and seeing what I’m c
And finally, I’m looking forward to sharing some amazing adventures with my wife, Leslie. I'm promising her 12 new experiences this year, whether that’s exploring new places or just trying something totally out of the ordinary. It’s our way of making sure we’re not just living life but really savoring it.
For me, 2025 isn’t just about checking boxes or hitting targets, that is why I am calling my it my 2025 goals & intentions list. It’s about transformation and creating a life that feels authentic and fulfilling. It’s about choosing to show up for myself and the people I care about in ways that truly matter. I have no idea exactly how the year will unfold, but I can’t wait to see where this journey takes me.
I Said Yes...
I don't photograph weddings.
I've been asked, several times, and offered large amounts of money. I've always said no because weddings are stressful. If you miss a shot, it's gone forever.
I have the highest respect for those who shoot weddings, but I know my limits and know what I'm interested in... Weddings just aren't on that list.
So you can imagine my surprise when my friend Karl asked if I'd photograph his 25th wedding anniversary and renewal at The Carolina Renaissance Festival, and I heard myself enthusiastically saying yes.
The wedding was beautiful, and I'm really loving how the edits on my photos are coming out. Still have a lot more photos to edit, but so far, I'm glad I said yes.
This doesn't change anything though. I still have no interest in shooting weddings, but I'm glad I shot 'this' wedding.
Pixelated Memories: Trusting Social Media
Pixelated Memories: Trusting Social Media
In 2005, I returned home from my mission for the Mormon church, the prodigal son returning from some spiritual battlefront. My family was there to greet me, faces glowing with the joy of reunion, but instead of tales of divine intervention or existential enlightenment, they were buzzing about something called Facebook. I had been out in the wilds of faith, utterly unaware of this new social network that was apparently all the rage. Back then, the phrase "social media" was as foreign as "peaceful politician"—no one knew what it was or what it would become. We had MySpace, sure, that primordial ooze of personal webpages, but even Twitter hadn't yet poked its beak into the digital fray.
Trusting Social Media can often feel like a gamble, one where the stakes are your most cherished memories.
My younger brother was in the know, of course. Facebook, he explained with all the enthusiasm of someone who’s just discovered the secret to life, was originally this exclusive club for college students—membership contingent upon possession of a sacred .EDU email address. But the gates had since been flung open, allowing the rest of us mere mortals to wander in and start "friending" each other. Naturally, I signed up immediately. I was captivated by the sheer novelty of it all—the voyeurism, the exhibitionism, the ability to craft a version of yourself that bore only a passing resemblance to the real you. I was hooked, drawn into the seductive dance of likes and comments, and soon I found myself not just on Facebook, but on every other digital platform that popped up like a mushroom after rain: Twitter, Instagram, Tumblr, Pinterest, Threads. I even dabbled in the ghost towns of Google+ and a few other doomed social experiments. None of those lasted long, of course. They were like bad lovers—exciting at first but ultimately disappointing, and not worth the memory space they occupied.
Trusting Social Media means engaging in a dance of risks and rewards, navigating through the complexities of online connections.
By 2007, I had been lured to my first DragonCon. Oh, DragonCon—an orgy of costumed eccentrics, where reality was as fluid as the gender-bending cosplayers in attendance. I wandered around in a daze, snapping photo after photo with my trusty camera, documenting every surreal moment. When the convention ended, I uploaded all my photos to Facebook, creating an album that I thought would stand the test of time—a digital scrapbook of my life, meticulously curated to showcase every birthday, holiday, and wildly inappropriate party. I was convinced this was how I would archive my existence, image by image, like some modern-day Boswell chronicling the mundane.
In the world of photography, Trusting Social Media has become a common theme for many enthusiasts.
But what I didn’t understand, what none of us understood back then, was that Facebook, and its ilk, were as fickle as they were addictive. Behind the scenes, these platforms were compressing our photos, reducing them to pixelated parodies of their former selves. Our memories, once sharp and vivid, slowly faded into a grainy oblivion.
Understanding the implications of Trusting Social Media is crucial in the age of digital archiving.
I learned this brutal truth recently—yesterday, to be precise. I was at DragonCon again, a good dozen visits since my first encounter with the spectacle. As I soaked in the ambiance of yet another weekend of bizarre escapades, I decided it was time to bask in some nostalgia. I wanted to showcase my adventures, so I pulled up those old photos from 2007. And there they were—my precious memories, degraded to the point of absurdity, images so compressed they might as well have been drawn with crayons. Back then, I’d thought Facebook was a safe repository for my photos, a digital vault for my cherished memories. I hadn’t bothered with backups. Why would I? Facebook, that mercurial beast, had assured me my memories were safe.
Ultimately, the lesson of Trusting Social Media lies in being proactive with your digital assets.
Now, all I have are these garbled, ghostly remnants, these cruel caricatures of moments I once held dear. And so, the lesson here, my friends, is painfully clear: Never trust a social media platform with anything you actually value. Save your photos on a hard drive, print them on good, old-fashioned paper, and for the love of all that’s holy, don’t leave the safekeeping of your memories to some faceless corporation whose greatest innovation is finding new ways to mine your personal data. Because one day, when the digital world has had its way with you, you’ll find your precious memories reduced to a blur, as lost and distant as the face of a long-forgotten lover.
Trusting Social Media to safeguard your memories could lead to disappointment if not handled with care.
The Bride of Lisa Frank
One of the perks of being married to a Special Effects Makeup Artist is the never-ending stream of creative and unique projects that come my way. Our latest collaboration might just be the most imaginative yet—a photoshoot blending the vibrant, whimsical world of Lisa Frank with the gothic, iconic figure of The Bride of Frankenstein.
When my wife first pitched the idea, it took me all of a second to say, "I'm in!" From there, we dove headfirst into the planning process, envisioning how to bring these two vastly different styles together into a cohesive, eye-popping visual narrative.
Lisa Frank, the queen of neon rainbows, unicorns, and dolphins, built an empire in the 80s and 90s with her bold, cheerful designs that adorned school supplies across America. What many don't know is that Frank's journey began much earlier. Before her famous Trapper Keepers, she experimented with art in her Tucson, Arizona studio, influenced by the vibrant Southwestern colors and Native American patterns. This boldness in color choice became her trademark, forever cementing her place in pop culture.
On the other hand, The Bride of Frankenstein, a character that first appeared in the 1935 film, is a gothic icon with a deep history in Hollywood’s early special effects makeup. The creation of her look, especially that towering hair streaked with white, involved meticulous craftsmanship by makeup legend Jack Pierce. Pierce, a self-taught artist, was known for spending hours perfecting the details of monster makeups, using techniques that would become foundational in the field of special effects. The Bride’s look was groundbreaking, blending elegance with horror, and remains one of the most enduring images of classic Hollywood.
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Bringing these two worlds together required a careful balance. We needed a model who could embody both the dark allure of the Bride and the playful spirit of Lisa Frank. The hair, a critical element, had to combine the Bride’s iconic streaks with Frank’s vibrant palette. And of course, the scene and backdrop had to reflect both the neon dreamscape of Lisa Frank and the eerie, gothic world of Frankenstein.
As the shoot came together, it was clear we had something special on our hands—a celebration of color, creativity, and the fascinating blend of history that each of these icons represents. The final photos were a fusion of styles that, on paper, might seem like an odd match, but in execution, created something truly unique and captivating.
This project was more than just a photoshoot; it was a journey into the minds of two creatives from very different worlds, brought together by the magic of special effects makeup and photography. And, if I may say so, it’s projects like this that make being married to a Special Effects Makeup Artist one of the most rewarding experiences in my creative life.