Artistic Integrity: Making Choices That Serve the Work
Artistic Integrity: Making Choices That Serve the Work
When I was in high school, I attended a local community play. I don’t remember much about the story, but I do remember two things:
1. The cast was made up entirely of underage high school students.
2. There was a scene where two female actors sat on a park bench, having a conversation while smoking stage cigarettes.
At the time, the choice to have them smoke felt strange—out of place. The actors were clearly inexperienced with smoking, and it added nothing to the dialogue or the overall performance. It wasn’t a pivotal moment in the story, nor did it serve any artistic purpose. So why include it? Why did the director make that choice?
Later, it came to light that the director had a disturbing attraction to underage girls and a fetish for women smoking. In hindsight, his choice made perfect, unsettling sense—it wasn’t about the art. It was about his own desires, disguised as a creative decision.
That experience has stayed with me. As a photographer and artist, I often reflect on that moment in the audience—the feeling that something was off, even before I understood why. It serves as a constant reminder to question my own creative choices. Am I making this decision because it enhances the art? Or is it serving something personal, something unrelated to the work itself? If I find that it's the latter, more often than not, I remove it—because I remember.
I sometimes see artwork on social media that makes me wonder about the motivations behind its creation. But to be clear, I don’t believe it’s inherently wrong for artists to make personal choices in their work. Art is often deeply personal. Some of the most profound pieces in history were born from an artist’s private emotions, desires, and experiences.
Art is also subjective—what speaks to one person may not resonate with another. But I do believe that as artists, we should always take a moment to examine our intentions. Are we making choices that truly serve the piece, or are they fulfilling something else? Learning to distinguish between personal impulses and artistic integrity is an ongoing process, but it’s one worth pursuing.
Because in the end, great art isn’t just about what we want to create—it’s about what we choose to share with the world
I Decided Not To Be A Hermit - Atlanta Shooters Event
I Decided Not To Be A Hermit - Atlanta Shooters Event
Since moving to Atlanta, I’ve been, well… a bit of a hermit. I’ve never been particularly great at making friends, and truth be told, I enjoy my solitude. There’s something deeply comforting about being at home, surrounded by my books, a fresh cup of coffee, and the warm, familiar presence of my pets. My most comfortable chairs are perfectly arranged in various corners of my house, each strategically placed for reading, thinking, or simply existing without the pressure of social interaction. And, most importantly, at home, I don’t have to wear pants—an underrated luxury.
But as nice as that sounds, there’s an undeniable downside to self-imposed isolation: loneliness. After spending the better part of a year holed up in my own little world, I had to admit that my social life was practically nonexistent. I wasn’t just lacking friends—I was actively avoiding situations where I could make them. And while I love my books, coffee, and pets, they aren’t exactly great at engaging in meaningful conversation.
So, when 2025 rolled around, I made a decision. This year, I would step outside my comfort zone and push myself to be more social. Specifically, I set a goal to attend at least twelve photography events—one per month. If nothing else, it would force me to interact with other people, and, with any luck, I might even make a friend or two along the way.
Fast forward to January 25th. I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, as one does, when I saw that Atlanta Shooters was hosting a model and photographer meetup in downtown Atlanta. The only problem? It was starting in less than an hour. Normally, this would be the perfect excuse to pass it up—I wasn’t mentally prepared, I hadn’t planned ahead, and I wasn’t even sure if I was in the mood for socializing. But something in me hesitated. Before I could talk myself out of it, I messaged Tony, the organizer, to see if there was still room for one more photographer. To my surprise, he responded almost immediately with a simple “Yeah, come on down!”
Now I had a new problem. Not only did I have to get dressed immediately—a challenge in itself—but I also had to gather all my camera gear, which was currently scattered in various states of disarray around my house. Batteries? Who knew if I had any charged. Lenses? Probably still in my backpack from my last shoot (whenever that was). Memory cards? Hopefully not still sitting in my laptop.
What followed was a frantic, last-minute scramble to throw everything into my camera bag, hoping I wasn’t forgetting something crucial. Miraculously, I managed to get my act together and rush out the door in time for the 30-minute drive into the city.
I arrived on time—something of a small miracle in itself—and found a solid turnout of both photographers and models. The energy was great. People were chatting, setting up shots, and exchanging ideas. After a brief moment of awkward hesitation (should I introduce myself first? Wait for someone to talk to me?), I took a deep breath and did what I came there to do—I started shooting.
What followed was an unexpectedly fantastic evening. I met some incredibly talented photographers, learned a few new tricks, and had the chance to work with some amazing models. More importantly, I actually enjoyed myself. It turns out that even someone as socially resistant as me can have a good time in the right setting.
And you know what? I’m glad I went. Because at the end of the day, as much as I love being a hermit, there’s something to be said for stepping outside, engaging with the world, and creating something new.
Oh, and the photos? Well, just take a look for yourself.
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How I Got Started In Photography
How I Got Started In Photography
I often find myself reflecting on how I got started in photography and am struck by the sheer chaos of it all. Many photographers I know have these beautifully linear origin stories—passions kindled in childhood, steadily nurtured over the years. But my path has been anything but straightforward.
My earliest memories of photography date back to the 8th grade. My parents owned a Canon AE-1, and I would often "borrow" it, sneaking off with some film to document school field trips. To say my photos were unremarkable would be kind. Most were littered with specks of dust because I was oddly fascinated with taking the lenses on and off without realizing I was inviting debris into the camera each time. Despite my lack of skill, I enjoyed the process—the tactile satisfaction of loading film, the anticipation of developing photos. It became a casual hobby I pursued sporadically through high school. Then, somewhere along the way, I stopped. I can’t pinpoint why, but by the time I graduated, the camera was left behind, and for the next 14 years, so was photography.
It wasn’t until 2014 that I picked up a camera again. At the time, I was married to a wedding photographer, and our relationship was unraveling. In a desperate attempt to salvage it, I turned to photography, hoping to bridge the growing distance between us. It didn’t save my marriage, but it reignited something in me. The more I learned, the more I fell in love with capturing moments and crafting images. Initially, I wasn’t very skilled—most of my pictures were candid snapshots taken while wandering around Olympia, Washington. But even then, I was drawn to the idea of photographing people, of creating something meaningful and evocative.
During that period, I was heavily active on Tumblr, marveling at the stunning imagery that filled my feed. I aspired to create work that could stand among those pieces, but I had no idea where to begin. Finding models was intimidating, and my lack of technical knowledge left me feeling out of my depth.
Everything changed in January 2016, after I moved to Los Angeles. My friend and roommate, Sydney, graciously agreed to model for me. It was my first real photoshoot with a person as the central subject, and I was both excited and terrified. Armed with a Canon 70D and a basic set of umbrella lights, I fumbled through the session, improvising everything from lighting to poses. Despite my inexperience, a few of the images turned out surprisingly well, and I was thrilled.
That shoot was a turning point. I began to understand how critical trust and collaboration are in the dynamic between a photographer and their subject. Sydney’s patience and willingness to let me learn through trial and error taught me lessons I still carry with me today. Though we’ve since lost touch, I’m deeply grateful for her trust during that early stage of my journey. Wherever she is now, I hope she’s safe, happy, and thriving.
Photography has never been a linear journey for me—it’s been a series of stops, starts, and unexpected turns. But those moments of chaos and discovery have shaped me, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything.
[ngg src="galleries" ids="45" display="tile"]I wish these photos had survived in better quality, but alas I didn't save RAW files back then. I didn't even save photos back then; instead, I relied on Facebook to keep my photos. A mistake to be sure, as both these photos were compressed saved images from my no longer active Facebook page.
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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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.
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.
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.
2024 ProPrints Photo Invitational
One brisk afternoon in early February, as I made my way to the mailbox in Georgia, a peculiar envelope caught my eye amid the usual stack of bills and advertisements. Sealed with wax and bearing the return address of "Pro Prints: The Invitational Competition," it piqued my curiosity. Upon opening it, I found myself invited to participate in a photography competition hosted by ProPrints.
The challenge presented was intriguing: to select a Tarot card and, using our photographic prowess, depict its essence through symbolism and personal interpretation. Though my knowledge of Tarot was modest, the prospect excited me. Tarot had always fascinated me, and while I dabbled in its practice, I remained far from an expert.
Coincidentally, my wife and I had discussed creating our own Tarot deck through photography. Thus, this opportunity seemed serendipitous. As we deliberated over the various cards and their meanings, the card of Strength resonated with me inexplicably. Inspired, I enlisted my wife's expertise as a Special Effects Makeup Artist to transform a model into a lion, embodying the essence of Strength.
With a plan in motion, I arranged for the necessary models and set a date for the shoot. Hours of meticulous preparation followed, with one model enduring hours in the makeup chair and further hours posing under intense lights alongside another.
Though the process involved numerous iterations and adjustments, we persevered until capturing the perfect shot. Upon reviewing the image on my camera, I knew we had achieved something remarkable.
Submitting our creation to ProPrints, we now await the judges' verdict. Yet, regardless of the outcome, the true triumph lies in the collaborative effort that brought our vision to life. Together with my wife and our models, we crafted an image of which I am immensely proud—a piece that will adorn my home as a testament to our collective talent and dedication.
Looking Back
Yesterday, while casually scrolling through Instagram, I stumbled upon a meme that hit me right in the feels. It went something like this:
"Nobody tells you how tough it is to rewire your brain, especially after going through so much crap. Blessings exist, good people exist, a softer life exists. Let it happen."
Those words hit me like a ton of bricks, making me dive deep into my own story. I started reminiscing about the ups and downs, the battles, and the scars I carry. There were moments in my past when I believed chaos was my destiny—a sort of punishment for my unconventional choices. But buried beneath all that, there was a yearning for something different, a silent plea for peace.
So, I decided to chase after peace, and it's been my main gig for the past 12 years or so. Now, I won't lie; I didn't always make the smartest choices on this quest, but the good ones eventually outweighed the bad. Today, I find myself in a much better place. My relationships have transformed, and the chaos that once defined me has become a distant memory.
As a photographer, I've come to view life like a photo album filled with moments—some bright and colorful, others darker and more challenging. I've learned to tell my story through the lens, capturing the resilience and self-discovery that define my journey. Each snapshot is a reminder that, just like in photography, the choices we make shape the narrative, offering the possibility of a story that transcends the shadows of the past.
Through my lens, I've witnessed the quiet beauty that emerges when you let the light of healing touch the darkest corners of your soul. It's like a visual redemption, proving that, yes, blessings are real, and a softer life is within reach. So, I'm letting these extraordinary moments unfold, knowing that the process of rewiring my mind and embracing the beauty of life is an ongoing, ever-evolving art. After all, we're all just figuring this human thing out together.