“Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”

“We both grew up here.” Kunane said as he took a good look around. “Over there, that fallen tree has been there since I was boy. For as long as I can remember. And that cave to the west,” he said pointing to a dark spot on the cliff face, ” we use to build fires there in the summer.”
I just listened as I tired to take it all in. Kunane and Jolene had told me earlier that few people had ever actually been down here and I believe it. After an hour drive along the island cost we finally came to a large coffee bean plantation with the road winding to the left and then to the right every 25 yards or so. “”Take this next left” he would say, “But don’t get to close to the edge of the cliff. Once, my uncle went over it and rolled his jeep all the way to the bottom.” My fingers gripped the wheel until my knuckles turned white as we crept onward. Finally we arrived to a small gate with a rusted padlock on it. Kunane jumped out and after dialing an age old combination of numbers popped the lock off and swung the gate wide open. The journey continued, taking us down a steep incline and I could feel any rock larger than a tennis ball scraping the under carriage of the car. “What the hell, its just a rental.” I thought as we bounced and splashed our way down the mountain side. I often wondered if we would ever make it back up in my tiny Corolla. At this point it appeared highly unlikely. After what seemed like an eternity, and on the edge of being car sick we finally rounded a small bend in the red dirt road and came into a clearing with a tiny shack. A weathered hammock hung between two towering Palm trees framing the most beautiful ocean in the world. We had arrived. Sort of.
After carefully selecting a few lenses I threw my gear bag over my shoulder and joined Kunane and Jolene on a small path that lead up to the rocky ocean coastline. It was a team effort and after nearly losing my shoes on several different occasions and my gear bag on one particularly scary occasion we made the final assent to the point where the cliff face levels out high above the crashing waves below.
Jolene’s voice jolted me back to the present. “This land has been in our families for generations. All the way back to our great grandparents. There has always been a question as to which family it actually belongs to.”
I could tell right away by the tightening of her voice that this was an extremely sensitive subject between them both. “Well, today, this land belongs to you both. Today its yours and yours alone.” I said as I headed to the fallen tree that Kunane had pointed out earlier.
This was the most beautiful place I had ever stood. No question there. The blue Pacific threw itself against a million years of lava rock creating the only black sand beach I had ever seen in with my own eyes. Black as night I tell you. I reached down and took a hand full and then ever so slowly let it slip between my fingers allowing it to fall and find it’s new home on the shore. Then I dug my toes into the sand and closed my eyes and imaged how fierce the molten rock must have been as it spilled from the center of the earth and into the ocean millions of years ago creating these amazing black formations all around us. And then I thought about how it wasn’t necessarily the weight of the waves or the force of them that turned solid rock to black sand. It was the shear commitment of them. A subtle reminder that patience and diligence paired with a committed heart can bring any mountain to its knees. May this be a reminder to them as they face the rest of the lives together. May this be a reminder to us all.

“A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes”

It seems as of lately my name has been dropped like a hot potato in a few photographer forums based on the fact that I am *gasp* a “selective blogger”. Which is to say that not every single thing I shoot makes it to the blog. And while it really is out of character for me to defend myself in these situations, I thought it was time to address this issue head on. I’m going to start off by telling a story. When I first began this wild and crazy journey I spent a lot of time on craigslist looking for anyone who would throw caution to the wind and allow me, the newbie, the opportunity to wet my feet on one of the most special days of their lives. I showed up, full of shit and fire and ready to take the world by storm. I was quite intent on capturing perfect love like no other had ever done before. I was excited and had a clear vision of how the day was going to be amazing and everything I had imagined it would be. Much to my dismay these particular clients turned out to be extremely difficult to work with and spent a majority of the morning bickering over the smallest of details. My heart was deflated and it was all I could do to keep it together in what was often an extremely uncomfortable position to be in. These two are getting married?? Seriously? But I did the best I could with what little experience I had. When I got home and began editing I was so happy that despite the unfortunate predicament, the images were quite beautiful and seemed so full of love. But deep down I couldn’t shake the remorse I felt over one of my first wedding being a couple who could barely stand to be in the same room with each other. I learned a hard lesson early on. That not every couple who gets married should do so and not every couple who is already married should stay that way. Well, in the end I chose not to blog that particular wedding and was met with a blacklash of claims that it was only proof that I wasn’t proud of my work. Of course I can imagine that this would be the easiest conclusion to come to without having known the entire story. This is by no means implying that this is the same of every couple who does not “make it” to the blog. The point is that while it may be easy to jump to conclusions, the fact remains that my blog…well, its MY blog. Actually its more than a blog. Its a journal filled with very personal thoughts about life and love and everything in between. But regardless, I freely exercise the right to be in control of my branding and my work. Yes, I am a free man. People spend so much time trying to decipher why others do things, or in this case, dont do things and so easily pass judgement or assume the worst. Maybe, just maybe there is no reason. It just is. No conspiracy. For instance, lets take Sean and Leighs engagement session. Some of my finest work to date which produced the following images.

Was the session blogged? Nope. Not because I wasn’t proud of my work, on the contrary, many of those images were immediately added to my main website portfolio! Its just wasn’t blogged. Plain and simple. Of course, someone who chooses to wallow in negative energy could probably come up with a hundred reasons why I didn’t blog it. Are they not a beautiful couple? Is Leigh not stunning? Is Sean not wickedly handsome? Is the light not amazing and all that one would expect from a Clayton Austin image? Why then was it not blogged? It just wasn’t. Instead I chose to post a poem, or deep thought, or better yet a note to my love. But wait! Their entire wedding can be seen HERE!! And would you believe that they look exactly the same as when I shot their engagement session! I know many a successful photographer who relies solely on their website and has never even considered creating a blog. At times like theses I must wonder how liberating that must be.

I will say this. Remember when Myspace was all the rage and then remember when people got so caught up in where they fell in line concerning a friends “top 12″? ” What?? Im only number 18? But we’ve been friends since Jr. High!” Remember how ridiculous that sounded even way back then?  Yeah, thats kind of like this. But the fact remains that I would rather simply remove my blog all together than become a prisoner to it. If I want to say “fuck” on my blog I will. If I want to talk about sex and tell Addison how amazing last night was (and it was AMAZING. This morning wasn’t too shabby either…) then I will. Because it is mine. And I alone will decide what goes on it. I am a free man. And free I will remain. And for those who would spend their evenings engaging in idle and slanderous chit chat, well, you should be a shamed of yourselves. Get a hobby. Take up underwater basket weaving. Make love in the back seat of a VW Bug. Go skinny dipping. Anything. Just try being happy  for a change.

Aloha!
The pictures are so breathtaking!!!! Corny as this may sound, I’d lke to thank you for capturing the love that we have for one another. As in any relationship, we sometimes lose sight of “this” love, but I have your pictures to always remind me. Remind me to keep the love alive and the endless reasons why I love this man. Just the experience itself, a new place, a new face, a new beginning, a new understanding, a new insight through your eyes is such an immeasurable gift.
I will be forever greatful.
THANK YOU!

Its a ritual to me that is just as important as brushing my teeth at night or kissing Addison goodbye in the morning. Every Sunday evening at precisely 8:55 pm I toss a bag of popcorn in the microwave, pour myself a tasty beverage, shut down the house for the night and tune in for my weekly staple of Mad Men on AMC. This is one show I refuse to TIVO. It has to be the original and I need to experience it with the rest of America. Of course I also own every season on Itunes and every once in while I will lock myself in my office and watch previous episodes imagining myself as a bourbon drinking ad man from the 60’s. Last night was such an occasion and I watched my favorite episode for the umpteeth time and when it got to the scene I love the most I did what I always do. I turned the lights off and leaned forward on my elbows and recited the entire scene with Don Draper word for word. And when it was over I rewound it and did the whole thing all over again.

Often I am asked about HOW I do what I do when what they should really be asking is WHY I do what I do. The photograph is more than just a memory. It s reflection of a deep place in us all. Of not who we were or who we will become, but more importantly who we are at that very moment in time. Its a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. People get married and many of those same people will get divorced. Its a fact of life and one rarely mentioned in the wedding industry because often it is easier to live in a fantasy world than it is to face the hard cold reality that people fall in and out of love every single day. But what I love most about my life is that I have the rare opportunity to be there when two people truly love each other beyond measure. On that day, at that very minute I get to experience the rare side of the human being. The selfless side. And maybe one day down the road when they question their love and commitment for each other, perhaps they will choose to dust off the old album and travel back to a time when their heart ached for the other. And maybe it will save them.

Don Draper: Nostalgia – it’s delicate, but potent. Teddy told me that in Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound.” It’s a twinge in your heart far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards, and forwards… it takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called the wheel, it’s called the carousel. It let’s us travel the way a child travels – around and around, and back home again, to a place where we know are loved.

My Carousel

“Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired.”

Its 3:43 am and I can’t sleep. Addison and I had a “tiff” earlier about something medial. Either I peed on the toilet seat again or I left a wet towel on the floor. Or in my case, and more than likely both. As they say, old habits die hard. And so, as I often do, I retreated to my office where sometimes I like to dim the lights and put something hauntingly sad and beautiful on the radio. I poured myself a scotch…okay, thats a lie. It was really a diet coke but I imagine myself drinking scotch at times. Educated and powerful men drink scotch. I kicked my feet on my desk and leaned back in my chair placing my hands behind my head. I gazed into the distance. Across the room there is a tiny pin board where I like to keep clippings and notes of things that inspire me. A conversation with an old man on the street. An add for Anthropologie. The lyrics of a song that touched me. A scene from Mad Men. To the average eye its quite the mess. But to me there is order in the chaos. A 3 foot by 3 foot square of all kinds of goodness just yearning to be realized. Tonight however something in particular caught my eye. It was different than the rest. It was the corner of a photograph. I walked over and began peeling back the layers of inspiration finally revealing the image in its entirety. And my heart skipped a beat. It was a picture of Addison and I on our first “weekend get away”.  God, that seems like a lifetime ago. Three years actually but it seem like much longer considering all that we have been through together since.

It was a month after we first met. Addi had rented a cabin for the weekend in the heart of the Texas wine country. Yes, Texas has a wine country. It was nestled on a hill, set at the end of long dirt road surrounded by horses and vineyards. It wasn’t like one of those make shift cabins, built to order and delivered on a flat bed truck. No, it was a hundred years old, constructed of cedar and mud. It was small but cozy. The main room was no bigger than 10 feet squared and had a stone fireplace that took up an entire wall. The bedroom was even smaller and 90% bed with only a foot on each side to spare. The linen was the most gawd awful pink floral pattern we had ever seen. It was awesome.  We dropped our bags and threw ourselves onto it, losing  and then finding ourselves between the sheets for most of the afternoon laughing and talking and falling love.

Later that evening we strolled into town for the most amazing meal. I had the Salmon and Addi had the quail though we shared both completely. We drank red wine until the restaurant closed and when we returned to the cabin Addi lit a fire and put Brandon Rhyder on the radio. We pushed all the furniture up to one wall and when “Let the good times roll” came on we buried our faces into the others and danced. Right there in that small cabin at the end of a long dirt road in the middle of nowhere. We made love that evening. Twice. And woke the next morning to the rest of our lives. Together. It was one of the best nights of my life.

I looked down at the photo in my hand and smiled. I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes.  When I was younger I did whatever I wanted. I came and went as I pleased. No one to be accountable to but myself. I slept with whoever I wanted (or at least whoever wanted to sleep with me too). I’m just being honest here. I pretended to be happy and everyone thought I was. But the truth is I was lonely. Once, when I was 19 I was arrested for driving with a suspended license. They said all I had to do was have someone bring the fine down to the station and I would be on my way. I just didn’t have anyone to call. It was only $200 but I was broke without a single phone number to dial. It was the loneliest I had ever felt in my life.

And now as I looked down at  that old picture between my thumb and forfinger I am so thankful that those days are a distant memory. I have a home with a white picket fence. No really, a white picket fence. I have a dog, a white lab named Cerveza. And I have someone to share my life with. A phone number. Day or night, thick or thin, I can dial those 7 numbers and know without a doubt that I am not alone any more. This is why people get married. Its more than a tradition or ritual. Its a phone number.

By now you are probably wondering what the hell I am talking about and why I am up at 4 in the morning to write it. My point is this. Tonight, immediately following our “tiff” I had this thought in passing that sometimes I wish I were single again where I could leave dishes in the sink and put empty ice trays back in the freezer. But then I see this picture and like a crashing wave I am reminded of every detail of a night so special, even down to what we ate for dinner, that I know without a doubt that THIS is life I was always meant to have. THIS is where the grass is the greenest. This is the power of the photograph. Its a chance to go back in time. An opportunity to visit a place that would otherwise be lost when days turn to years. The chance to see your life through younger eyes and to hopefully remember. To just remember.

I placed the 4×6 exactly where I had found it. Under layers of yellow post-it notes and chicken scratch where it will remain until the time comes when the ache surfaces and I feel the need to be there again. Dancing by the fire, naked and wrapped in pink floral.