I’m Not Dead Yet
OK, I suppose I should start by assuring everyone that I’m not dead. Not quite yet, anyway. (Cue the man from Monty Python and the Holy Grail being hauled off shouting, “I’m not dead yet!” Honestly, that’s been my life’s aesthetic for years, stubbornly alive due to spite and coffee).
Still, I had a good laugh over the flood of messages after I posted my “obitchuary”. Most of them were some variation of, “You son of a bitch, I thought you were dead!” And for someone who’s spent a decent portion of life assuming their absence would barely register, I have to admit, it was oddly touching. Not the reaction I was aiming for, but a heartwarming bit of unintended chaos all the same.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve noticed we all quietly share that same haunting thought, that our deaths would go largely unnoticed, that our lives ripple too softly to matter. It’s why It’s a Wonderful Life still makes half the planet cry into their hot cocoa every December. Of course, life doesn’t really follow movie logic. We don’t get soaring orchestras or conveniently timed redemption arcs. Cops aren’t “buddies,” and no one solves a murder in under an hour.
But here’s the lovely, inconvenient truth: we matter more than we think. We leave fingerprints on people’s lives, sometimes smudged, sometimes shining. I know I’ve made my mark, some of it gentle, some of it… less so. There are a few people who’d probably spit on my grave, and honestly, that’s fair. We don’t get to choose the whole impact we leave; we just scatter it like glitter and hope it catches the light more often than not.
Yesterday, in therapy, I mentioned a time I “unfortunately survived.” My therapist immediately countered, kindly but firmly, that I had it backward. “You fortunately survived,” she said. “Messy, imperfect, maybe even a little scorched, but alive.” She’s right, of course, though I still think of myself more like Iago from Aladdin 2, muttering, “You’d be surprised what you can live through.”
So maybe that’s the lesson hiding under all this: life’s ridiculous, messy, unfair, and still wildly worth living. We’re all just shuffling through our own sketch comedy, absurd, painful, full of strange beauty, trying to make it to the next punchline with a bit of dignity left.
Until next time, keep creating, keep living, and if you must write your own obituary, make sure it’s funny enough that people text you to see if you’re still breathing.
License to Shoot
License to Shoot: A Bond Girl Photoshoot
I’ve been under the spell of James Bond since childhood—specifically, since my father, in what I now recognize as a pivotal act of cultural initiation, sat me down to watch The Living Daylights. Timothy Dalton, sharp as a dagger and smoldering with restraint, was my first Bond—and you never quite forget your first. While the world collectively genuflects before Sean Connery, I remain part of the apostate sect who believe Dalton brought something darker, something truer to the literary Bond: a man caught between duty and self-destruction.
From there, I spiraled gloriously. I’ve seen every Bond film more times than I care to count (or admit), not just as a fan but as a student—examining lighting, color theory, composition, costume design. I studied them the way one might study ancient texts, or deconstruct a fever dream. The Bond universe became, for me, a mythos of aesthetics and archetypes—elegant violence in a tailored suit.
A few years ago, my longtime friend, model, and enduring muse Maeve approached me with a gleam in her eye and a question on her lips: “What if I played a Bond Girl?” Not just any Bond Girl—Xenia Onatopp, that high-camp avatar of lethal sensuality. Of course, I said yes before she’d finished the sentence. That shoot was a glorious collision of style and subtext: velvet shadows, wicked smiles, power and performance stitched into every frame. It awakened something in me—a hunger to do more with this theme, to build something larger out of the world I’d loved for so long.
Fast forward to the present. I decided it was time to return to the world of spies, stilettos, and shadows. I reached out to several new models—Heather, Mackensie, Morgan, and Hunter—all artists in their own right, each with their own edge, grace, and mystery. We met in downtown Atlanta, our city of glass and grit, and transformed it into a living soundstage. Rooftops became rendezvous points. Alleyways whispered secrets. Laughter echoed off brick and concrete as we channeled elegance and espionage beneath the Southern sun.
Every photograph was a collaboration, a dance of glances and lighting, attitude and atmosphere. While editing, I leaned into a film noir palette: deep blacks, sharp contrasts, the quiet menace of chiaroscuro. And for the first time in my career, I brought out my Canon AE-1 and loaded it with black and white film. There’s something sacred about shooting analog—it slows you down, makes you breathe, forces intention into every frame. It felt right. It felt Bond.
The results? Nothing short of electric. These weren’t just photos; they were stories mid-sentence—freeze-frames of intrigue, moments charged with glamour and danger. I looked through the final images and saw not just Bond Girls, but icons in their own right. Women who didn’t need rescuing. Women who were the storm.
I can’t wait to work with these remarkable models again. There’s more in this world to explore—more themes, more tension, more romance dressed in danger. And in the spirit of Bond himself, I’ll keep chasing the next beautiful shot, the next story told in shadow and silver.
After all, what is photography but espionage with light?
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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.
Why We Love Old Things
A few years ago my mother gifted all of her children with a flash drive of all our old family photos. Over the years I have had a bitter-sweet relationship with those photos. Sometimes I can look at them and it brings back forgotten happy memories, but more often than naught it brings back reminders of just how unhappy I was during a certain time and I was trying desperately to mask. Despite all of this I keep going back, keep looking at these images, and keep remembering. Why? Because I have a theory on why we love old things.
When you were a kid did you ever like something? Could have been a band, a movie, or maybe even a book...then one day you shared that like with a group of "friends" and they made fun of you for liking that thing. Has that ever happened to you? What happened after that happened? Did you go on liking that thing, but in secret? Did you put the movie, CD, or book into a box and hide it away in some dark closet? Did you stop wearing that band's t-shirt? Did you stop playing D&D?
Maybe none of these things happened...Maybe you were just interested in a subject and wanted to learn more about it, but never did because it was perceived as unpopular or uncool to participate in such things. So you didn't...right?
This kind of thing happened A LOT to a lot of kids. From the moment I turned 8 years old my father's favorite quote, that he recited to me over and over was "When I was a child I thought as a child and acted as a child, but when I became a man I put away childish things." So as I grew up I always felt guilty for liking certain things...bands, comics, POGs, cartoons, movies, etc...because I was constantly told either by family members or friends that I shouldn't like those things. So even though I wanted to...I didn't.
At some point in my mid 20's, I actually convinced myself to throw away a large collection of movies, music, and comics that I had accumulated over the years because I thought it was time for me to be an adult and "put away childish things". I hate that I ever felt that way about myself and my interests because I lost out on so many years that I could have enjoyed those things.
Why do we love old things? Because we were never allowed to enjoy them safely when we were younger, and now that we are older, we have come to understand that people's opinions of us matter less, that our time is short here on earth, and we gave ourselves permission to like and participate in whatever we want without judgment from ourselves.
We can play D&D without having to find excuses for why we play D&D, and just enjoy the company of good friends and a good story game. We can read comics for no other reason than because we like the artwork and enjoy the plot. You can watch a cartoon or TV show without guilt because the characters make you feel comfortable and safe.
See the whole idea of "when I became a man I put away childish things" is wrong. I think The Doctor said it best when he said "There's no point being grown-up if you can't be childish sometimes.."
So go like what you like. If someone doesn't like it ignore them. It is your life, not theirs. If they want to live their life without, let them! Just because they do it doesn't mean you have to. So go out and enjoy all the things you were not able to enjoy when you were a child.
Thanks for stopping by. I would love to hear what you think about all this. Feel free to leave a comment or reach out on Instagram, Twitter, Patreon, or Vero.
A Killer & The Dead
I have loved films and movies most of my life. Back before the age of streaming collecting movies and watching the DVD extras was a big favorite pastime of mine, and I always dreamed of being involved in films. So you can imagine my delight when I was invited by Austin Janowsky to serve as a BTS photographer on the set of his latest movie A Killer & The Dead.
For anyone who has never looked into how films are made...It is an extensive project requiring the creative talents of so many people. When people talk about giving their blood sweat and tears into a movie they are seldom exaggerating and most likely being literal.
The success of any such project is determined by the commitment and dedication of the entire team, and this past week saw a group of humans come together and work together perfectly. Were there setbacks? Yes. Were they overcome? Also yes.
So stay tuned for more news and details of this upcoming movie A Killer & the Dead.
