the passing of light, images that pile up and words that keep me grounded
This is why the camera seems to me, next to unassisted and weaponless consciousness, the central instrument of our time; and is why in turn I feel such rage at its misuse: which has spread so nearly universal a corruption of sight that I know of less than a dozen alive whose eyes I can trust even so much as my own.
— James Agee, Let Us Now Praise Famous Men, 1939
One week later, waiting for my train that’s 8 hours late.
Epicenter Crew, January 2012

Sometimes the only bar is closed at 830 on a Friday. I just wanted to play pool. So you drive to the truck stop and buy a handle of the best Canadian Whisky.

Frontier Fellows

Just finished sprucing up this little site that features the work of past Fellows. Some really great things have happened out here in this beautiful place in the past few years!

Be apart of it.

Biting cold, taking the feeling from your finger tips, your nose: freezing the hairs above your lip as you walk along. A tinge of wood in the air, burning in place, warming the space between those four walls: a rectangle stretched into a simple home. Trees bare from the winter’s snare. The dirt bare from the dry, thin air.

Thoughts while walking down Green River, Ave at Sunset