Monthly Archives: November 2014


November 22, 2014


I was browsing through Pinterest the other day and happened across some photos that completely blew my mind, and upon further investigation was able to discover the genius behind the work.These portraits are from the Mono/Ha photo series by HART + LESHKINA, a New York based image making team. Seriously, every single photo concept is incredible and impresses me equally as much as the one before it. Go check them out.


November 17, 2014

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 I’ve been arguing with myself steadily over the past few months on what it is to be an artist and why I do it. It’s difficult for me to grasp certain ideas and customs in the industry I am in because I don’t want to be another person out there pushing a product on you that you most definitely don’t need but maybe want. Consumer culture is what it is and it’s got me feeling all types of ways, and none of them are really all that great. When it comes down to it we really don’t need much to survive, the rest is what makes us up one by one, culture by culture. I create because it’s what I love to do, it makes my heart beat faster and my face shine a little brighter. We don’t need music, art, or design….but we enjoy it, struggle with it, and it’s what we use to find meaning and definition. So there it is. Don’t buy my art. You can if you want, but only if it makes your face shine a little brighter and your heart beat a little faster.

Here are some (not so great quality) photos I took on my phone last night from a show I went to in Dallas. If you haven’t heard of Noah Gundersen, you should go change that. The entire night was magic.


November 10, 2014


STORIES is a new series to document moments of life, as well as works of fiction, by myself and fellow contributors. I believe that words in themselves are works of art and can move a person in ways that other mediums cannot. I don’t claim to be a profound writer, but I want to share these stories, and so here they are.


It was who-knows-what-time at night and I woke up from my frozen slumber to shouts of “SOMEBODY HELP ME, PLEASE, HELP ME!” No one else in my tent woke up, it was just me and my racing heart. I waited a few minutes thinking maybe I had dreamt it, because let’s be honest, I did watch 127 Hours before heading into the middle of nowhere Utah with some friends for the week. A few minutes passed by and there it was again, “PLEASE! SOMEBODY! HELP ME! HELP ME! OH MY GOSH HELP ME!” I heard shuffling in the tent next to ours, racing feet, flashlights flailing, and finally a mans voice “HELLO? HELLO! IS ANYBODY THERE? ARE YOU OKAY?” There was no reply. I poked my head out of my tent, intending to join the search, but suddenly realized the full extent of where I was and how unprepared I was to go wandering off into the dark to search for someone. I waited a few minutes, and then slowly heard a trickle of laughter emerge from across the way. I closed my eyes in a mix of fear, worry, and anger. The next morning I walked around our campsite to see if anyone else had heard the same horrible screams from the night before. The group of guys in the campsite next to ours told me a tale of how they had heard something in the night, but that their tent had also collapsed around 2 a.m and they spent a better portion of the night wrapped up in tarp. Another man I questioned turned out to be the one who ran for help, confessing that after a few minutes he heard the same laughter that I did from a camp across the way, almost certain that it was a group of teenagers pulling a cruel, cruel joke. We drove away from Zion the next day, my mind forever marked with the sick memory of false cries.