“She laughs at my dreams, but I dream about her laughter.”

I lost the rings. Yes, that was plural. RingS. I could make a frail attempt to segue into that part of the story with a cleverly crafted prose but really, what’s the point? First it was hers. You see, I had taken their rings and ever so carefully placed them on the tiny embellished  door handle of the 1940 Daimler and just when I had lifted my camera to take the shot I heard the subtle “clink” of a priceless diamond hitting the cold concrete ground before rolling to the far side of the under carriage. Surprisingly enough it sounded eerily similar to the sound of my heart plummeting to the pit of my stomach. I popped my head up in view of Nikki and Christian cuddling to keep warm from the chilly afternoon breeze and with a dont panic, dont panic, don’t panic look on my face I said, well, “Don’t panic…but I  just lost Nikki’s ring”.  Thankfully the ring was just within arms reach but when I turned to replace it with Christian’s ring on the chrome handle I immediately noticed that now it too had vanished. This time there was a new sound, that of two pints of blood rushing to my cheeks. “Christian, did you get your ring?” I asked. He looked at me curiously before shaking his head. “Okay, now panic” I muttered to myself as I dropped back to my hands and knees in a frantic search of the second missing ring in 30 seconds. As I swept my hands back and forth looking for a grey ring on a grey background I recalled what Jack Handy, a writer for SNL in the late nineties had once said. “If you ever catch on fire, try to avoid seeing yourself in the mirror, because I bet that’s what REALLY throws you into a panic.” Funny,but had I found a match and a mirror prior to finding the ring I would have gladly put that theory to the test. 15 minutes later and growing more and more concerned by the moment the ring had yet to be recovered.  I had every pocket turned inside out. I had patted myself down like a frisky security guard at LAX. I had searched in the car, under the car, on top of the car. We had even expanded the search radius 15 and 20 feet out and combed the grass with our fingers and still nothing. And right about the time when I was contemplating the cost of a top notch metal detector I heard a voice ring out like Lindsay Lohan being released from rehab. “I found it!” I turned to see Nikki’s dad walking toward us in slow motion, the wind in his hair, prize in hand thrusting toward the sky. And for the first time since the ordeal began I breathed.  After all that it had simply dropped to the floor of the car and been hiding in plain sight all along.

As Christian slipped the ring back on his finger Nikki laughed and said “I bet you won’t blog about this!” which came out more like a dare than a statement.

Oh Nikki, just when I thought you knew me…

“Love is when you take away the feeling, the passion, the romance and you find out you still care for that person”

The moment I stepped out of my car my lens immediately fogged over, confirming that I had indeed arrived in the Mississippi’s Delta. On the surface it could pass as any other small town intersection with a hole in the wall doughnut hut on one side and the local token BBQ joint on the other.  The only thing even slightly out of  the ordinary was the small weathered guitar landmark sitting perched on top of the north facing traffic light along with two other signs marking the sun-parched junction where the old Highways 49 and 61 cross in Clarksdale, Mississippi. That very junction where Blues legend Robert Johnson sold his soul to the Devil for his chance at musical immortality. As I stood on that fateful corner watching the light lazily turn from green to red and then back to green, I realized that I could easily go off on some tangent about the metaphor of being married at such a crossroad. The crossroads of our lives, decisions, yada yada yada. But there was something much deeper here. The smell of freshly baked sweet potatoes and greasy fried catfish hung in the air and the sound of a lonely harmonica put Terry “Harmonica” Bean in a sad place. His opening line said it all. “Congratulations to the lovely couple. I’ve been married for 32 years but my wife is shacking up with another man.” Not quite the average greeting but the obvious truth none the less. He shook his head in somber disbelief before turning to his band and whispered “B flat boys”. Ralph Ellison, an early american writer once wrote that “The blues is an art of ambiguity, an assertion of the irrepressibly human over all circumstances, whether created by others or by one’s own human failing.” And that, my friends, is what this story is about. Being human. Overcoming. Keeping it together.

Earlier that morning I stood with my back against the rusted tin wall as Manny lathered his face in shaving cream. He spoke of the little things and how he wished he would would have done just a few more crunches had he known I would be there for his “getting ready” routine. We laughed and after a few shots I left him to himself. I decided to take a small tour of the hundred year old shack, the weather floor boards creaking beneath my feet. And then I saw it and immediately I knew what I would write about. It came to me in an instant and was blinding apparent. A single safety pin holding two frayed cotton curtains together, one to the other. So small, so insignificant, yet grossly symbolic of what would be unfolding in just a few short hours. Two souls united by a minor detail. A promise. Nothing more, nothing less. Here I was, in the heart of the birthplace of the blues surrounded by a century’s worth of sadness and heartache and struggle and found a tiny life lesson in a rusty old safety pin.  Whether its a kiss on the forehead or subtle pat on the ass. A handwritten note or a blanket party by the fire. In the end its the small things that keep us together. Come hell or high water.

“Blues is easy to play, but hard to feel”

So happy to have Tahni and Josephs beautiful wedding in the Spring/Summer issue of The Knot!

Happy Friday from Blues Highway, Mississippi!

Clayton,
I can’t stop staring at the photos you took…. the pictures are truly unbelievable. You captured the incredible environment of Joshua Tree so perfectly…. the rocks, trees, and openness of the desert. Some of the photos look like a painting – that perfect. My favorite photo at the moment is the fourth color one posted on your blog… where the sky looks unbelievable, and I have my head on Dan’s shoulder. The pose is awesome – the sky is surreal – and the colors are just insane. I am truly in awe of your work and I really wanted you to know how appreciative I am that you invited Dan and I to do this. And that you decided to meet us in Joshua Tree. I think I will go back to Joshua Tree one day now – all because of our magical experience. Dan and I keep uttering to each other – wow, what a cool experience. Its one of those things that as its happening, you can just feel how cool, unique, and amazing it really is, without having seen one picture, I knew it would be “epic.” Not only are the photos something I will always treasure, but the actual experience is just as memorable. Seeing you in action – how dedicated you are in your craft – its priceless really. Dan and I have also concluded that you have to be one of the most positive people we have ever met. You go with the flow, you don’t let the ups and downs get to you, you are constantly assured that you will get the shot, even if the weather or broken dolly gets in your way. Your energy is endearing and your dedication to your work is truly inspiring. Think about it… the story didn’t stop with the engagement session nor the wedding, we had the pleasure and opportunity to shoot with you again in probably one of the most beautiful places we have ever been to…. who would have known? So again, please know how thankful we are, how obsessed I am with these beautiful photos, and how lucky we feel that we met you, that we know you, and consider you to be someone really special in our lives.

I have to share one last thing…. When I first talked to you on the phone last August…. that was after I had spent hours looking at your photos, sharing them with my mom,Daniel, my girlfriends…. I didn’t think there was any way I could ever afford you… And then after talking to you- and you being the nicest person ever- And then you even helped me out by offering to pay for your travel and tweek your photo package so that I could afford it…it was like I was dreaming! Our first phone conversation was like the best thing that ever happened to me and Dan. And the funny thing is, my mom was all nervous about me using a photographer out of state- I remembered her demanding to know why I couldn’t find someone in CA…. And I would say to her…” Mom, this guy’s photos are like nothing you have ever seen before….” and when she saw them…. She quickly agreed and that was that.
Clayton- You are beyond the best decision I ever made- our wedding photos truly capture the love that Dan and I have and have held all these years…..The Joshua Tree photos and experience were unbelievable! And you are one of the most talented and sweetest people I know..,,,I just feel so lucky to know you…. So very lucky. Thank you.

Summer & Daniel

I hate feeling something deeply and not finding the words to express. Its like I want to say something important that will speak about the person I am and the things I tend to hold onto with a death grip, yet find myself staring at a blank computer screen for twenty minutes. It seems as of lately I have been a hoarder of old things. Not junk per se, well even that may be debatable at times, but things that remind me of my childhood. The “good years” as I often refer to them. Things like the silky material that lines the edges of Addison’s favorite blue blanket. God, I love that blanket. Running the satin through my fingers, so cold, so therapeutic. When I was 7 I had a blanket just like it, though mine was green to match my favorite Green Lantern underwear. I was always enamored by the fact that he could change into anything else, but thats a whole other post. I was lost without it and even though I did eventually move on to other unhealthy relationships, to this day every time I take a hand full of that satiny goodness I immediately remember a better day when being a kid wasn’t so bad after all. A time when it was okay for a boy to call another boy his best friend. Mine was Aaron Dixon and now that Im older I am realizing that the older you get the more you realize just how much you need the people you knew when you were young. Aaron lived two blocks away from me and without exception we would sneak out of our windows every night to meet up halfway because having every single class together just didn’t seem to be enough. We shared our deepest secrets and thoughts, more specifically about a certain Sarah Thomas and how bad ass it was that she could skate backwards while singing every single work to Bon Jovi’s “Living on a prayer”. Hell, we even shared matching jean jackets complete with identical White Snake patches on the back. Yes, I had a jean jacket with a White Snake patch. Even as I write this I can’t help but miss having friends like that. Sharing that connection. Now, instead of having that one true friend we have 2000 facebook “friends” who will periodically grace us with their presence by writing on our walls. Tonight I would gladly trade those 2000 for one Aaron in a heartbeat. I miss the days when Neil Patrick Harris was still Doogie Howser, M.D. and  when people read books for both the sake of the story and the satisfaction of turning pages. And now a days it seems that even the later is slowly slipping away from us. Tonight I was chatting with my new friend Matthew over at A Fine Press who is diligently (and patiently) working with me on my new stationary and I couldn’t help but fall in love with the way that HE loves paper. And even though he know eons more than me on the subject I can’t help but feel we both love it for the same reasons. With every new purchase of an IPad, books are becoming more and more nostalgic in nature. To this day I refuse to read an electronic book simply for the reason that I would miss turning the page. The smell, the feel of the paper between my fingers, but more importantly the ability to dog-ear a page to hold my place. If nothing else, I know that I can count on picking up a book that I am reading and it falling effortlessly open precisely to the place I had left off. That in itself is an unwavering truth in a crazy chaotic world, one that I deeply rely on. What’s this all about? Well, its about both nothing in general AND everything that matters. I guess only you know which it is to you. But if you ask me, blankets with satin edges and books with dog-eared pages make for better human beings…