In 2025 I drove from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Ocean using as little pavement as possible, navigating a network of abandoned gold rush roads north of Vancouver. While earning a Geography degree in college, I spent a lot of time working with mapping software and spent two years connecting bygone trails to make the journey possible. The trip itself took me an entire year to complete. Of the 20,000 mile journey, 8,000 of those miles were off-road through some of the most rugged and remote places in North America. This is a series of images about ruggedness, wildness, and the relentless pursuit of beauty at all costs.
The whole story: It was a ten year dream to take photos on this island. I first read the book ‘Cloud Atlas’ in 2012 and was absolutely captivated by the themes of connection, karma, and the way our choices ripple through time in ways we could never imagine. “From womb to tomb, we are bound to others... past, and present. And by each crime... and every kindness... we birth our future.” I believe lines such as this one fundamentally changed the course of my life, the way I think about art, and the way I try to impact other people. I had only just graduated from highschool at the time, but I was beginning my photography journey with a hand me down camera and a dream to make art that mattered. One of the lines written in a letter between two of the book’s main characters, the lovers Sixsmith and Frobisher, reads in a time of immense peril: “Find me under the Corsican stars, where we first kissed.” The idea of two people so filled with magic and so deeply in love that their bond would echo through eternity, and the thought that their connection started on one tiny little French island stuck with me ever since. I thought that if two people, even fictional, could be so inspired by a place then I had to see it for myself. I was determined to someday be able to make art from this little island. Ten years later, last summer in 2022, I finally did.
Once the center of the supercontinent Pangea, Newfoundland has some of the oldest rocks and roots on the planet. Making art from these rugged, stunning coastlines has been an enormous challenge— not because the beauty isn’t abundant, but because I feel a daunting pressure to accurately translate how it feels to stand in these ancient places through my work.
Iceland is a place where magic exists. Amidst violent winds and unpredictable weather, there is peace to be found in the landscape and serenity that blossoms out of the chaos. I have found that taking photographs here is more about letting the beauty come to you rather than pushing too hard. It is more about feeling, being still, remaining silent while the winds whip around you and the skies darken to black above you. My love for Iceland feels personal in many ways as a place that inspired me to take more dramatic photos that required more from me as an artist than simply clicking buttons in stunning places. These otherworldly views are the place that I really learned what it means to be an artist, not just good with a camera.
Throughout the Yucatán, you can find portals to another world. An ancient, powerful world of spirits and gods clashing with ego and mortality. In the dense jungles of Mexico, we bashed through the trees in jeeps to find the perfect cenote, cave, forest or river that might help tell the story of how it feels to travel in such a unique part of the world.
Alaska’s rugged wilderness. One of the last truly wild places in the United States, this place offers every opportunity to find something new to explore. A lot of “firsts” happened for me in Alaska, especially in regards to my artistic journey and my career. It is where I learned mountaineering, where my love for rugged landscapes and little seen places was established, where I learned to climb in ice and snow, and where I captured my first photos that gained major publications and recognition. Without Alaska I would not be the artist or the human I have come to be. It is a place I hold dear to me.
The mood, the fog, the rain and the slivers of sunlight through the clouds make the west coast one of the most fairytale like places in North America. I have traveled up and down those roads countless times and I always come away with bright memories and new stories to tell. Sometimes my camera doesn’t even leave my bag for me to feel inspired and eager to make new art. Just a silver of one country in the world, but so special that it has birthed generations of explorers and artists, and I am constantly amazed by all there is to see and feel out there.
Perhaps it was being raised in Florida, where the marshy heat can suck the moisture right out of your soul and the winters are just a few weeks long, but I have always been drawn to very cold places. All my life I have admired the harsh and unforgiving beauty of ice and snow, ice capped mountains, and glacier cut expanses of rock and granite. As my love for photography deepened, so did my yearning to go north. The more remote and isolate, the better. This desire has led me to some wild places in some of the most northern parts of the world, and my soul remains eager to try and capture it over and over again.
The martian landscape of the American southwest comes alive when faced with harsh weather conditions. Baby blue skies don’t reveal the true drama that hides in this desert, and exploring the barren deserts and dried up riverbeds becomes a challenge of its own even before I raise my camera to the horizon. My love for off-roading was honed here in these red rocks, becoming a primary home for developing my skills behind the wheel and learning to photograph and environment along the way. This part of the world is one of my favorites to return to in different seasons of nature and in life, hoping to be taught something new each and every time.
Midsommar as a collection is about relearning how to feel pain. suffering is part of the human experience, but so much of the way we suffer is learned, self-inflicted, or repeated trauma. the “rebirth of pain” mentioned in my series is about finding a new season of feeling.
this doesn’t mean an absence of suffering, but instead learning to experience it as a new season each time— one that will melt away when your summer comes. renewal isn’t about erasing, it’s about being gentle with yourself again as if experiencing emotions for the first time.
the way that ‘Midsommar’ invites you to step into someone else’s dreams, to see their memories as your own, like events that could have happened but you can’t tell who they happened to… this is the way to view our old selves. over and over again, we are made new in our minds.
A series of 35mm film photos taken in London over 5 months. The idea was to create a feeling of nostalgia and individuality in the rush of the streets. I tried to pick out intimate moments amidst the chaos of this goliath city. I’ve always associated film photography with a “slower time” before the distractions of the modern world— a fantasy that I was not even alive to experience myself. So in this project, I took a Minolta 9000 and tried to show how special these tiny interactions can be if we’d only slow down to appreciate them.
