The Injustice of Poverty

We see the inequality. The unfairness; The world has left you behind, staggering across the desert. Hungry and alone; chasing after an idea that the slow march of time will one day stop for you to catch up.

We hear you cry out, begging to be heard. Pleading to an unseen creator. “Help me”, you shout. Your neck craned upward toward the heavens. Your voice drown out by the bitter winds of selfishness and greed.

We feel your heartache at the injustice of poverty. The painful recognition that you have done nothing to deserve the life that you live, that simply because you came into existence you will be trapped until you die.

We act as though you don’t exist, placated by the thought that your time will come in the afterlife, when the unseen creator will bestow upon you the glory that you deserve.

We refuse to admit that we are wrong.

Perfection Hidden in a Hostile Jungle

Auyan-tepui, Venezuala - Mike Call traverses along the lip of a boulder just outside of base camp on location for the Point Break remake last October. A few days prior, I had taken a 45 minute helicopter ride from Canaima to the top of Auyan-tepui. Criss-crossing rivers, winding over the jungle canopy, I could see the camp in the distance. The scene was something straight out of a dream. About a dozen tents sat atop pallets dotting the rocky uneven landscape. It was free of vegetation, however a thick jungle was just a stones throw away.

I left the confines of the helicopter and was completely taken off guard by my surroundings. No longer was I suffocated by the thick jungle air, but instead had ascended into the clouds high above the valley floor. That evening, after I had met with Mike and the rest of the crew, we wandered off to explore the surrounding landscape. Giant sandstone boulders sat within sight of camp, however finding a route over was tricky. After working our way around several large chasms, we found an amazing array of boulder problems. Crooked relics formed for a millennia. Overhanging slabs that defied the laws of gravity shot out from all angles. It was perfection hidden in a hostile jungle.

Awe and Inspiration

Looking back through old photos is always interesting for me because as time passes, my tastes change, and things that I felt were whatever, have now taken on a different meaning. While looking through some old 35mm scans from a trip I took back in 2004, I found this one. It’s a fairly simple photo of Swayambhunath Stupa in Bhaktapur, Nepal. There is nothing crazy going on, no incredible human feat, aside from the creation of both buildings, but It brings back great memories of my first traveling experience. I look at it and feel the same sense of awe and inspiration that I felt at that moment, and I think maybe that’s what photography is about sometimes.

I Never Dreamed of Sarajevo

As children, we dream of the improbable. And as we enter a new phase in our lives, those dreams fade, and new improbable dreams take their place. This happens again and again, year after year; dreams fading in and out of existence over and over. But sometimes, for reasons that I do not know, a dream stands out above all the others. It’s different than all the rest. It takes hold deep within, and doesn’t let go, gnawing at the subconscious.

When I was younger, I never dreamed of Sarajevo. My mind was preoccupied with thoughts of hanging out with friends or playing outside. But as I got older, I discovered the world, and the most important thing it had to offer; a perspective other than my own. It seems so trivial, but when I realized how insignificant my problems were compared to others, it forced me to face how juvenile my life had been. And while I will never claim to be anything other than a twenty-year old at heart, the empathy I have for those around me grows with every trip into the unknown.

To Capture the Moment

A wash basin sits unused in the small mountain town of Monchinque, Portugal. Later that afternoon, as we hung around in the shade waiting for someone, A small woman hobbled her way up and proceeded to wash her clothes. I approached her, thinking that I would like to capture the moment, but she looked at me and held up her hands, as if to say, “no picture”.

I feel like situations like this happen, and that’s ok. I don’t think everything needs to be photographed. Sometimes, I just try to enjoy the situation that I’m in.

Beautiful and Remote

I consider myself a fairly lucky person, having opportunities to visit some of the most beautiful and remote places on the planet. Angel Falls is one such location. I was there late last year with Mike Call, filming for the upcoming hollywood remake of Point Break. This was my first, and hopefully not last, big budget hollywood film. It was definitely interesting to see how it operated in comparison to most of the smaller budget projects I’ve worked on. I wouldn’t necessarily say that it’s better or worse, it’s just different. Money doesn’t make all the issues go away, and in many cases, it causes some. However, one thing that it did bring to the table was an awesome crew capable of pulling off some shots that would have been impossible otherwise.

Standing Alone

Standing alone, reaching toward the sky, Devil’s Tower looms over the surrounding landscape.

The Gentle Water

A few years ago, before I headed out on my adventure around Croatia, I spent a morning wandering around Geneva. It was early, and the city had yet to wake up. I drove a few miles over to Lac Léman, a large lake that dominates the surrounding landscape. Street lights were starting to flutter off while the hum of the city steadily rose. I walked along a pier, listening as the waves lapped steadily against concrete below me. Across the lake on the opposite side stood a small lighthouse. A couple fishermen stood beside it, casting their lines out into the gentle water. It was so quiet, occasionally, conversation would float over on the wind. I didn’t understand them, but It gave me an interesting perspective on their early morning adventure.

As I stood there, enjoying myself, I noticed a sailboat silently sliding through the water, gliding in between us, heading out toward the center of the lake. I closed my eyes, picturing what their view would be. Looking both ways, a lighthouse with a few fishermen on one side, and on the other, a lone figure, enjoying a quiet morning, standing on the end of a pier in the middle of a waking city.

A Distant Land

I stood on the corner, listening to the silence. It wasn’t like the complete and absolute silence that one might find in outer space, nor was it like the silence experienced while adventuring far across the ocean in a distant land. It was the silence that can only be found in certain parts of the west.

An Endless Field

In an endless field, on top of a slight hill, tucked away off a backroad in Kentucky sits a small barn. Unmoving, it braves the elements. Facing torrential rain as storm clouds race overhead. As night falls, clouds disperse and the moon appears, a sliver among stars.

Years pass, colors fade, and owners come and go, yet the barn remains steadfast. A monument to those around it. It is a symbol of the forces that shaped this country and a stoic reminder of the hard work and sacrifice that it takes to keep it running.

Authenticity

I don’t shoot portraits very often. It’s something I enjoy, however I definitely struggle with it. What helps is having an interesting subject. My friend Chad is one such subject.  Not only is he an incredibly talented wood worker, but he photographs well, although it could just be the beard.

I had another frame that was similar to this one, but without the scratch down the eye. Eventually I decided that I liked it more with the scratch than without. I think that in an age where perfection can be achieved with the click of a few buttons, there is something nice about authenticity. I’m not saying that touching up is wrong, but it’s a different form of art. Really, it just comes down to preference.

In Search of Sunlight

Beautiful eastern european architecture dots the shore of the Mediterranean near the town of Split, Croatia. Down by the waterfront the fisherman load their boats in the early morning light, while bells clang back and forth, making their presence known to all. The smell of fish was thick as I worked my way down the shoreline. After a while I ventured into a part of town that was less glamorous, a blight on the land. Large unfinished hotels lined the road. Their concrete pillars conflicting against the calming seascape behind them. The angles, sharp; The colors, drab. No life existed except for the few plants that had broken through the foundation on their quest for sunlight.

I crawled through a hole in the fence and wandered deeper into the structure. walking down dark hallways, passing dark rooms. Visions of me being stabbed flashed through my head. I picked my pace up a bit, while simultaneously rehearsed how I would choke out my attacker. As I exited the corridor, I entered a larger room, and all thoughts passed from my mind. It was amazing. Sunlight burst through small circular holes near the ceiling. The roof itself emanated light down toward me, cautiously lighting the surrounding area. I paused for a moment to take in the scene. After a while, the foreboding feeling returned and I left in search of sunlight.

Ground Down to Dust

I walked along a broken fence that led down to the coast, battered by the elements. A harsh cold wind whipped at my face as the clouds raced across the sky. I climbed around, exploring like a child, hopping from rock to rock, splashing in puddles, skipping stones. Sitting down, my back against a column, staring out across the tumultuous ocean in front of me, I take in the scene around me. The rocks that that surround me have been battling the elements for millions of years, slowly wearing down over time. Like us, someday, this rock will be gone, ground down to dust, its molecules mixing with the earth. The difference is that the rock has no control over its immediate future. It might be able to fight the storm far longer than any of us ever could, but what’s the point of fighting, if you're unsure as to why you're doing it.

First Breath

Walden, CO - We had just finished up filming for the day, documenting an unsupported cycling race across the United States and I had some time, so I grabbed my rolleiflex and ran down to the pond. In hindsight, I should have also filmed some scenics, but I must admit that was the furthest thing from my mind. The sunset was going off, and the scene around the pond was mesmerizing. That’s one thing that I enjoy about shooting film. It seems like when I do, my mind clears and I focus on what’s in my hands and my surroundings. I quit thinking about problems that i’m having in my life, and I take my first breath.

Wading Through the Sea

Back in 2004, I spent about three months teaching english at a school in Bhaktapur, Nepal. I was 20 and it was my first time traveling outside the U.S. I grew up in Idaho Falls, Idaho, and while I consider it to be a really beautiful area, it isn’t necessarily the epicenter of culture. Because of this, my first experience abroad was quite overwhelming. As I walked down the steps of the plane at Kathmandu International Airport, I was overcome by humidity and was instantly covered in sweat. I nervously followed people that looked like they knew what they were doing and figured out my way through customs. For someone that had done absolutely no research about traveling, I felt pretty good about it.

Apart from being my first time abroad, this was also the first time that I had thought about photography as more than just a hobby. After wading through the sea of taxi drivers, I walked around the city with my camera, marveling at every narrow alley, every temple. Watching people come and go with a sense of wonder. Looking back, it seems kind of ridiculous, but I also realize that’s the reason why I love photography. Being able to capture a moment that is very personal to you, and then having the opportunity to show other people, attempting to evoke the same emotions that you felt when you initially took the photograph. To me, this is why photography exists.