Souvenirs

Bluegrass Musician Ashby Frank | Run This Town Album Cover Photo Shoot

Sun, 26 Jul 2026 15:05:05 GMT

It was a pleasure to work with longtime Nashville bluegrass mandolin sideman Ashby Frank on the album art and cover shot for his July 2026 release, Run This Town. Thanks to the Wheelhouse in downtown Asheville for accommodating us! Ashby will be promoting his new record on the Grand Old Opry this month, be sure to check him out!!

The Legendary Biz Markie @ The Orange Peel

Thu, 23 Jul 2026 14:10:17 GMT

Biz Markie, 2009 @ The Orange Peel, Asheville NC

Digging through my archives yesterday and came across this set of the late Biz Markie when he opened the Beastie Boys in 2009. Known almost exclusively for his slightly off-key 1989 hit "You Say He's Just a Friend" - which I'm old enough to remember well - Biz was a colorful, expressive character on stage and made for some great pics. I generally stay away from black and white images but for some reason this set of photos really popped in monotone. The second image is part of my permanent installment of musicians lining the hallway at the Orange Peel. Check out more images from that collection here.

Summer Flowers with a Cult Classic Helios Lens

Tue, 21 Jul 2026 21:11:23 GMT

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Passing Through | Images From Backroads in the Deep South

Tue, 21 Jul 2026 20:25:47 GMT

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Savannah with a Dianna

Sun, 12 Jul 2026 15:52:25 GMT

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Staring at the Sun

Sun, 12 Jul 2026 12:40:42 GMT

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Beachcombers

Thu, 09 Jul 2026 19:51:35 GMT

Contemplations on the Carolina Coast

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Between Here and Nowhere

Thu, 09 Jul 2026 05:07:20 GMT

Reflections on fine art landscape photography, abstraction, and the pursuit of a new perspective.

Working in a creative field has never been easy. More than anything, it's the constant balance of remaining true to the work people have come to expect while quietly searching for something fresh and unexplored. One foot planted firmly in familiar ground, the other wandering wherever curiosity decides to lead.

For years, my work—like that of so many photographers—was driven by the pursuit of perfection: a refinement of the landscape before me, captured as eloquently and precisely as possible. That pursuit certainly wasn't a mistake. Watching my eye grow more discerning and my photographs become more refined over time has been one of the great joys of the craft. But somewhere along the way, I stopped trying to photograph the world around me and started trying to interpret it.

Of course it does. We create because we're curious, but we also create to share. Whether it's a song, a photograph, a magic trick, or a painting, there's something deeply human about wanting another person to see what we've found. Maybe the work begins as a personal obsession before becoming a desire for connection. Maybe those things are impossible to separate.

Perhaps that's why lifelong artists often seem just a little unhinged. We rarely know whether we're creating for ourselves or for everyone else. It shifts like the tides, always pushing us beyond the familiar while trying to keep one foot on solid ground.

For now, I'm content to follow that curiosity wherever it leads. These photographs aren't an attempt to reproduce the world as I found it, but to explore how a familiar landscape can be transformed by a subtle shift in perspective. They're experiments in seeing differently—fine art landscapes shaped as much by memory and emotion as by geography—and I have a feeling they're only the beginning.

Where I once saw flawless compositions of marshes, mountains, oceans, and forests, I began seeing shapes, color, and motion waiting to be bent, blurred, and transformed into something altogether different.It felt a little like crossing a bridge over a wide river. Once I'd reached the other side, I found it difficult to explain the view to the people still standing on the opposite bank.

And then came the inevitable question:

Does it even matter?