I’m a maximalist by nature—more is more is generally better—and a devoted fan of the former Nest magazine. If you’re not familiar with it, I strongly urge you to give it a look.
Over a precious 26 issues, Nest consistently got it right in my opinion, in its eccentric approach to highlighting how and where people live. It delighted in non-convention and in treading unfamiliar territory—a different breed of cat, it celebrated cells of a women’s prison, the interior of a submarine, a haunted house in Los Angeles, French chateaus, tiny city apartments, and dwellings of all shapes and sizes in between.
It was purposefully, overtly expressive and I was immediately taken—as an unintended bonus, each issue reminded me of a phone call I shared one evening with a photo editor at The New York Times.
I had moved from covering professional motorsports out of Los Angeles, to skiing and rodeo in Colorado, to hopefully becoming a wire service photographer, shooting politics and breaking news in Washington, DC.
After a year of self-assigned, ad hoc political photography, I had enough images to send out for consideration and The Times was at the top of the list—I sent the portfolio in the mail, no less, and waited.
Five days later the call came from an editor on the photo desk. As soon as she introduced herself and asked if I had some time to talk, I was sure The New York Times was calling to offer me a job. I was mistaken. She was, in fact, not calling to offer me a job, and instead, spent almost an hour telling me why she hated all of my images. She didn’t hold back either–she genuinely seemed angry enough that I had wasted her time with them that she wanted needed to tell me.
It was as fun as it sounds, and an experience I hope anyone pursuing creative expression gets to have. Honestly, it made all the difference.
By and large, I don’t remember what happened to me three weeks ago, but I remember that editor admonishing me to always consider what I was trying to say. She wound down the call by reminding me of a political event happening the next day and then saying she wanted to see more of my work in six months. And then right before we hung up, she said that if I ever sent her anything obvious again, this would be the only time we ever spoke.
We did speak again, and in the end, I did become a wire-service photographer—a wire-dog as we were called—and started my career shooting freelance for Associated Press, Getty Images, Bloomberg News, and The New York Times.
I ended my time in Washington as a staff presidential photographer for George W. Bush’s White House and served at the pleasure of the president for the last two years of his term, which was the opportunity of a lifetime.
My sister says that I’ve had more once-in-a-lifetime experiences than anyone she knows, which is very nice of her, and maybe true. I’ve been all over the world shooting all manner of places, things, and people(s), but these days, making pictures of immovable buildings gives me as much pleasure as anything I’ve turned a camera to. When I think about my professional life, many of the moments that have made me the happiest involved architecture and design in some way over and above anything else that might have been happening at the time.
What’s contained in the three Series on this site is how I see things—ideally a deluge of color, an interesting angle, a nice moment or a decisive bit of light. If an image or two within could raise an eyebrow of former Nest editor-in-Chief Joseph Holtzman or Holtzman confidant and fashion designer Todd Oldham, I believe I’ll be on the right path.
I appreciate you having a look and I thank you in advance for your consideration. I hope what you see gives you even a fraction of the pleasure it has given me to create.