Running to Stand Still

For No Reason At All

2012-01-14T18:12:00.005-06:00

Long Awaited

2011-12-13T20:06:00.009-06:00

Two months later I present a completely random edit of my favorite photographs from Ty and Amanda Garrett's wedding in Bucyrus, Ohio. This was a difficult wedding for me to photograph because it was on my way to Ohio that I found out my grandfather had passed. Needless to say my focus was jumbled, but I attempted to give everything I had to documenting the wedding. At least it was a completely beautiful autumn day. I still have photographs to show from two other weddings I shot in the fall... with any luck everything will be organized and edited by the new year, and I'll have some sort of collection of all my wedding work hosted up somewhere in cyberspace. Thanks for your infinite patience.

Update

2011-11-05T16:30:00.002-05:00

Six months have come and gone and I thought it might be time to add/subtract material (and reinvigorate) my website. In case you haven't been up-to-date with my blog in the past few months, I added a small edit of photographs taken during my five-week stint as a night-life photographer at Studio Paris in Chicago. Opportunity come and opportunity go. I'm not really sure I've gotten my footing here in the city... and my photography feels a little aimless. Or maybe sparse is a better word. In any case, I will celebrate what I have to show. In the scheme of it, maybe it's more than I think.

Kingdoms Rise and Kingdoms Fall

2011-10-22T21:56:00.005-05:00

The past few months are slowly digesting, and as the pieces break apart and dissolve I find my heart heavy and confused. As many might have read, I lost my grandfather earlier this month. A prominent figure in my upbringing, a large portion of my tiny, knit-tight family, and, as my sister put it in the opening line of his eulogy, a second father. I think about him when I tie my shoes. I think about him as I'm sitting in bed eating pie for breakfast, eating pie for dinner. I think about him in the morning, staring at my damp reflection, two blue eyes staring right back that he passed along to me and only me. I think about leather jackets and cardigans and crossword puzzles and cinnamon rolls and chocolate milk and classical music and Cadillacs and Persian cats. I lost my maternal grandfather in the early summer; it was difficult on a different level, but we were never as close as I hoped we could be. Grandpa Lowell, however, was a daily fixture of my young life. I'm twenty-four and I've been blessed to never experience the loss of a dear, dear friend or loved one. Grandpa is gone and it hurts. I know certain things. I know that he's not suffering. I know that it's for the best. I know that time heals all wounds. My grandma will wake up tomorrow and feed the cats, drink instant coffee, and sit down at the dining room table to counsel and guide complete strangers for a living. I know that life goes on.

My good friend Dan attended the funeral with me. I didn't ask him to, just like I didn't ask him to drive from Columbus to Chicago and then straight back the night before the service to pick me up. I can only accept his actions, seemingly out of place given the years we haven't spoken and the history we've shared -- filled to the brim with good, bad, and downright heart-wrenching experiences -- as gestures of the truest compassion.

Anyone who has graced the McKeehen household knows that we are people filled with sensitivity and sincerity in it. We cry outloud, we laugh outloud, we overshare, and we wear our hearts on our fucking sleeves. My grandpa's funeral was beautiful and appropriate and funny and heartbreaking. That afternoon, I squeezed the breath out of my father, I held my mother's hand for dear life, and I felt all the pride and love and precious unity of my family washing over me.

When I came back to Chicago two days later to resume my normal life, everything felt opaque. I slapped myself together to work a 50-hour-week, filled as it was with demands and exhaustions and all of my innumerable doubts. This is my home, too, and part of my family, but some days, it really does feel lonely... some days it feels like I really am all on my own. Life is so strange sometimes. I wish it was easier for you and me and everyone else to understand.

As I write this post, I am challenged... feeling uprooted, sleep-deprived, headachey. I am piecing together a million emotions and putting them out there -- as I used to do with much more regularity, exploiting this format for sharing what I see and feel -- as a meager expression of something real. But simply, I am beyond thankful for the support and kindness of those near and far as I have struggled with many types of loss this year. I have experienced tremendous generosity in the midst of tremendous difficulty.

To close, I am too tired to be profound, but I do hope that my friends and loved ones know and feel how much it matters to me.

Ring the Bells, IV

2011-09-24T17:44:00.006-05:00

So honored to present some of my favorite photographs from Moran and Trica's wedding (on August 12th in Columbus, Ohio)... two wonderful people who entered my life about a year ago via my protein shake employment. So sad that they're no longer in Chicago, that I can't venture one stop north to sit on their giant couch, watch football games, eat Pizza Hut, and witness them parent two incredible children with their undivided attention and devoted love. Congratulations to them and their beautiful family.

Ring the Bells, Pt. III

2011-09-21T18:11:00.006-05:00

Ring the Bells, Pt. II

2011-09-18T13:28:00.003-05:00

Ring the Bells, Pt. I

2011-09-13T10:09:00.003-05:00

Ocean of Noise

2011-08-24T10:06:00.003-05:00

In an ocean of noise
I first heard your voice
Ringing like a bell
As if I had a choice, oh well!

Left in the morning
While you were fast asleep
Into an ocean of violence
A world of empty streets

You've got your reasons
And me I've got mine
But all the reasons I gave
Were just lies to buy myself some time

In an ocean of noise
I first heard your voice
Now who here among us
Still believes in choice?
Not I!

No way of knowing
What any man will do
An ocean of violence
Between me and you

You've got your reasons
And me I've got mine
But all the reasons I gave
Were just lies to buy myself some time
- Arcade Fire

Studio Paris, Cinq

2011-08-24T09:49:00.002-05:00

Studio Paris, Quatre

2011-08-03T01:01:00.002-05:00

Truncated Sunshine

2011-07-25T10:01:00.004-05:00

Today is my 24th birthday. My birthday is exactly midsummer... half of it's buried in the ground, a bundle of weeping flowers on top. The other half is usually too hot and short to savor. It hasn't really felt like summer to me this year... I haven't gotten any sunburn or mosquito bites. I haven't been to any BBQs or outdoor concerts. I've been too busy and too tired and time is flying up up and away from me. This opening paragraph bit is a poor introduction to my photographs, but here they are: some phone snaps of my liking from the past few weeks.

Studio Paris, Trois

2011-07-20T14:30:00.003-05:00

Studio Paris, Deux

2011-07-10T23:19:00.003-05:00

From now on, my Friday nights are spent here... documenting a city night life I could never see otherwise.

Studio Paris, Un

2011-07-02T23:12:00.002-05:00

Behind and Ahead

2011-06-29T11:41:00.006-05:00

I've been busy helping to open new restaurants/reposition responsibilities/recompose my personal life in the last two months, so this blog has been a little empty. As a sort of update to those unaware, after an eternity without a phone (specifically, all of April and all but a week of May), I mustered up the nerve and finances to purchase a fancy, expensive one... only to have it ripped out of my hands and carried off into the night one week later (all of this while traveling back home after my grandfather's funeral). This is the uneasy pattern of my life -- reward and punishment and, inevitably, adjustment. Also, another reoccurring feature -- spending copious amounts of money to facilitate this "adjustment." And yet another -- light-heartedness when recalling the magnitude of bad luck. So, now that I've purchased two iPhones in the last month and a half, I at least have some unimpressive little instances to share on my blog (incase you haven't seen them elsewhere).

Coming and Going on Easy Terms

2011-05-24T21:24:00.011-05:00

I couldn't sleep and my mind was collapsing, my belly full of broken glass -- my two arms reaching out, my two legs twisted up. Everything rests on shifting plates, they say, and I can tell. The Earth's crust crumbling under my toes. It was just a ticking time bomb, they say, and I believe them. A timer went off, and my whole world exploded. And I'm up and off my feet, my limp body tossed into a vast, foreign territory. But that was yesterday, when I thought about a half slab of bacon in my refrigerator that I couldn't throw away and a pint of cherry ice cream in my freezer that I couldn't give away. I thought about calling, writing, and knocking on your door, and I never thought better of it. I had my nights of soft little sobs into floral-printed sheets, and I whispered for help, my pleas bouncing off of four white walls. I could fall into anyone's arms, pounding my fists against them for explanations. I just want to sit down at the kitchen table and watch pieces of my hair fall down around me, sticking to my bare thighs. I just want to make love to the same record on repeat and, then, I just want to sit down at the kitchen table and watch you standing, disarmed in the darkness, drinking an entire carton of orange juice. I just want to sop up the trauma, wring out the mop, and dump the mess down the drain. At night, when I unlocked my door and stepped inside, everything felt empty. The ceiling fan stirred the dust... kept particles from settling on an answer. And then the sun came out -- you convinced me it was because I was awake, alive, and beautiful as ever. Love your fellow man, slow and steady, do onto others, honesty policies, eat your vegetables, say your prayers, the sun will rise and then surely set. Hello and goodbye and hello, it's me -- you never forgot, and I never forgot.

Love is blindness, my grandma says, and she's right. You can't see anything in the dark.

Tsubo

2011-05-15T21:11:00.005-05:00

I have been getting more and more assignments like this lately... Ryan of Tsubo (a salon located on the near west side). I have been in a bit of a photo funk lately in terms of making photos that really stick with me, but it's always refreshing to meet and photograph friendly creatives like myself, especially when their work spaces consist of soft light and potted plants.

This brings me to...

I updated my portfolio website with some new material, including some more editorial work that I've done for Time Out. The opening gallery is currently a collection of personal portraits... these along with the photographs in the Faraway (So Close) section are the images that really inspire me at the moment. Take some time to visit, and let me know what you think.

Waiting for the Sun

2011-04-24T14:48:00.010-05:00

I've been hesitant to come here and write about anything personal, as is my typical nature. All of these photos come from some place not-so buried, and I have utilized this blog to house some pretty dense emotion. I take full responsibility for that. It is my purpose and my constant desire to externalize the internal, but for so many reasons, this blog seems both incredibly necessary (for me) and difficult to write.

I will say that on the inside, I am caught somewhere in between paralyzing heartbreak and overwhelming gratitude. On the outside, I have little choice but to persevere, occupy my hands and head, keep talking, smiling, avoiding hazardous material. Chicago has presented a multitude of personal challenges for me; the past three weeks have been the most challenging of a lifetime. I almost lost someone incredibly precious to me. What can I say? -- The world, and I, would not be the same. I cannot think of all the what-ifs without dissolving into an onslaught of tears and conflicting emotions.

I hadn't really stopped to consider the force of life... or the instance in which it can cease. Maybe it seems like we get to have a say in these sorts of affairs... but no matter the amount we take into our own hands, armored and bulletproof, some things are just out of our reach. For these reasons and more, it has been a challenge for me to look at my own life in the same fashion. My mind, for the month of April, has been racing, filled with perplexing thoughts that make my stomach tense up and my head ache in exhaustion.

The truth is, for the past ten months, I have lived in this city, and I haven't really known why. I've asked all of the cliche questions. For the past nine months, I have gotten up and gone to work downtown. I ride the train by myself and I listen to rock and roll music and I think about my day, my dreams, my family, my bank account, what I'm going to have for dinner. For the past six months I have been wildly, confusingly, and painfully in-love. No matter the repetitious drone of your life, love interrupts.

Loving someone is not enough to fix all the broken parts. I have confused this notion with believing that I am not enough. I hope that I was, that I am, that I will be. This is my nervous confession, sent out into cyberspace. I'm not sure what good it does.

I went to church service with Carrie. I'm not a deeply religious person, but the opportunity to go seemed like one I could not pass up in my current condition. The message of Easter seems to be that no matter the detriment, beautiful miracles are possible, and hope is worth it. So, I fill myself with hope leaving my apartment today. I hope for renewal and strength and the patience to endure the days that are filled with rain and darkness so that I can truly appreciate the sunshine when it finally comes.

And I hope this, of course, not only for myself.

Be strong, dear.

Life Is Very Long When You're Lonely

2011-04-19T20:44:00.004-05:00

We All Feel Better in the Dark

2011-04-19T11:08:00.001-05:00

Careful, Careful

2011-03-17T00:48:00.004-05:00

I've never met your mother, but I hear she's lovely. Two generous hands to scoop you up off your feet and remind you that you're beautiful. Never tired of the dirty laundry. Never tired of day-time television. It's not a crime to kiss your cheek, and you're never too old for lullabies. I put on a pot of coffee so I can evaluate your day. Put on a jacket to avoid bacteria. Put on your dress shoes because we're going to church. Put down the candy bar, the action figure, the television controller, the blinds so the neighbors can't see inside. I'm tired today. I got up early, fell asleep late, and missed all of your phone calls home. I ate Kraft dinner and ignored the day-old dishes. Wipe your feet at the door. I'll wait for you to fill me in.

Train Chicago Grand Opening

2011-03-06T22:32:00.004-06:00

I am continuously put into situations that make me feel awkward and/or ashamed for not working out and/or fitting in.

Moran and Trica

2011-03-06T22:07:00.002-06:00

Touching From a Distance

2011-02-22T23:01:00.008-06:00

My Valentine's Day present was a ticket to the Sky Deck in Willis (*cough* Sears) Tower. I've worked directly across from this building for seven months now and, until last week, I'd only ventured in once or twice to use the post office.

There are few gifts more romantic than one that involves looking out onto the shimmering city through the windows of the fifth-tallest freestanding structure in the world.

Half Light

2011-02-22T01:05:00.001-06:00

Strange how the half light
Can make a place new
You can't recognize me
And I can't recognize you
- Arcade Fire

Hairdresser on Fire

2011-02-22T00:52:00.002-06:00

Delicate

2011-02-07T23:39:00.012-06:00

(archived photo)

Last Friday, my grandma watched her dog Heidi slump to the floor in her last few seconds of life. My grandma called my dad. After a drive to the veterinarian, they both sat in the car, immobilized, crying together.

This city was hit with a tremendous wall of white powder last week. When the snow melts, everything neglected will be revealed. I forgot what spring feels like, but I try not to complain; I am thankful for the seasons. I am thankful for the differences.

When I was little, I was comforted by the warm little light emitted by my dad's lit cigarette. A cheerful red ember would bounce up and down in the dark as he climbed the stairs after me, chasing me to bed. When he calls me now, we talk about rock and roll and football and the weather. Over the years, I've wasted too much energy convincing him to quit smoking.

In the past two months, I've come to accept that my maternal grandfather will soon die of cancer. I called him yesterday -- the first time I've reached out since finding out that he was dying. We had a one-minute-long conversation. He told me to take care of myself and enjoy my life, and then he hurried himself off the line.

I am dating a boy with Crohn's disease. At 27, he drinks Ensure and eats Gerber baby food and it secretly breaks my heart to pieces. Occasionally, to my delight, he indulges in deep-fried greasy garbage like pizza and hot dogs and french fries and bacon. I am not disappointed. We celebrate the victory of successful digestion. I've stopped taking my stomach -- and my youth -- for granted.

I keep different hours every day. Sometimes I sit on the train at 5 AM, achey and resentful, staring blankly out the windows at the dark morning backdrop. My feet and hands are like concrete until I step off the platform and scurry my way into work. Sometimes I run so fast to catch the train at 11 AM that I forget to notice the rare gleaming sunshine or the same homeless man by the newspaper stands. Sometimes I exit the train at 9 PM and a flood of anxiety washes over me; I hate walking home alone at night. On a good day I am home before 7. On a good day I have dinner plans before 6.

The human body is a well-oiled machine. The human soul anticipates rust. We are a delicate collection of bones and blood, and last week was a bad week for everyone I love. I nestled into my covers and slept almost twenty hours straight; it seemed no amount of pastries or cartoons could rebuild my immunities upon waking, but somehow, I've made it here to tell myself this: don't break down just yet.

Winter Is a Slow Slumber

2011-02-07T23:25:00.003-06:00

(archived photo)

Pinching Pennies

2011-02-02T18:32:00.007-06:00

Bargain shopping in Albany Park with expert store explorer Julie Shapiro. Nothing extraordinary visually, I realize... just trying to dust off my camera and de-rust my idle hands a bit after months of inactivity. I could blame it on a series of unfortunate events that have left me swimming in stress, but I won't. I've just been re-evaluating, and I got a little lazy in the process. Here's to a new year with hopefully more freelance opportunities. Thanks to Time Out for paying me to skip around a dollar store all Saturday afternoon.

Let's Get Lost

2011-01-17T19:33:00.005-06:00

I've been outside
Invited in
But I couldn't abide
Wouldn't miss it again
Burning every bridge that I cross
To find some beautiful place to get lost
I had true love
I made it die
I pushed her away
She said please stay
Burning every bridge that I cross
To find some beautiful place to get lost
To find some beautiful place to get lost
Well I don't know where I'll go now
And I don't really care who follows me there
But I'll burn every bridge that I cross
And find some beautiful place to get lost
And find some beautiful place to get lost
- Elliott Smith

Wasteland

2011-01-17T00:07:00.003-06:00

When Love Comes to Town

2010-12-28T23:29:00.008-06:00

The holidays present the rare but welcomed opportunity to see my big sister Shannon. As the years have gone by, I've seen less and less of her. After flourishing as an undergraduate writer, she ventured to California to complete her Master's degree in creative writing. Sadly, I never took advantage of her temporary presence out West. She recently moved back to Ohio, but I have, of course, since been displaced in Chicago. It seems that our geography hasn't matched up since I was in high school. I suppose I could take this opportunity to become extremely sentimental. My sister has been my best friend my entire life; no doubt this will never change, despite the miles between us or the milestones paving our separate and succinct paths. This blog entry is sounding a little mushy and trite. I cannot muster the perfect string of words to adequately describe my love, admiration, and gratitude for my sister (she is much more equipped). And, I cannot believe that it has taken me so long to take her picture. But then again, the past few years have plagued me with a selfish sort of tunnel vision, and maybe I am still suffering from this crippling blindness. (Refer to the portraits of my parents that are only just now surfacing, after I've been fairly diligent about photographing what's near and dear to me for the past four years.) Christmas at home this year was one of the most humbling holidays I've shared with my family. Despite the rapid whirl (and, at times, what feels like the stagnant slump) of my young adult life, they have my heart.

Trouble Loves Me

2010-12-28T23:01:00.003-06:00

Blue Sunday

2010-12-19T14:16:00.007-06:00

I am often convinced that I can only produce a well-constructed series of words on occasion. I was reading my friend Ellee's online journal this morning, and in my response to her holiday-inspired sentiments on love and life, I was able to accurately pin-point my own feelings for the first time in months. I responded to her musings with, in essence, the following confession:

Lately, I have found myself confused, sensitive, needy, defensive, compulsive, and impatient. Lately, I have found myself fond, hopeful, relaxed, reflective, comforted, and protected. Some days I struggle to find inspiration in my fixed routine, working over 40 hours a week, explaining the health benefits of quinoa and Kombucha and almond milk to young and fit and attractive investment bankers who regard me with the utmost indifference because I am behind a counter in a brown hat and an apron, and they have company money to dispense on overpriced lunches and dinners. And they have security and companionship in it. Nevermind that I have a college education, a refreshing sense of humor, perfect posture, a fantastic memory, zero cavities, and just as many hopes and dreams and aspirations. I want to remain focused on the positive with my hands submerged in soapy water, dry and cracking from the scrubbing, the bleaching, the blending and tossing and chopping and grilling, and the perpetual exchange of American Express cards. I wonder where the time has gone. I’ve lived here for 6 months now and I still have no idea what I ultimately want to be doing. I am not unhappy, just uncertain.

In the end, it has taken little self-reflection to reveal my biggest flaw: a persistent tendency to look for problems.

It's Sunday, my day of the week to recuperate and relinquish the bad energy that has accumulated during the course of the week. This blog entry serves many purposes, and it's been awhile since I've really utilized the strength of my own voice. I am 23 years old. I support myself in one of the largest cities in the United States. I have a loving family in Ohio, wonderful friends far and wide, and a job that sustains my belly, my bank account, and my loving heart (and refer once more to my loving family and wonderful friends). I am still wandering around this big city, my eyes bright and shiny and full of wonder. It's the holiday season, so as is customary of this time, I am trying ever so earnestly to count my blessings. I am trying to be patient. I am trying to let my life happen without feeling like time is slipping away from me. I am trying to enjoy sleeping in when I can, photographing a beautiful face when I can, taking a bubble bath when I can, eating leftover chocolate cake when I can, and falling in love when I am.

I'm a Roman Candle, My Head Is Full of Flames

2010-12-15T12:41:00.002-06:00

Mom and Dad

2010-12-05T15:51:00.003-06:00

Thanksgiving Rain

2010-12-05T15:49:00.001-06:00

Time, It's a Crooked Bow

2010-11-27T15:59:00.004-06:00

(archived photo)

In time you need to learn, to love
The ebb just like the flow
Grab hold of your bootstraps, and pull like hell
Until gravity feels sorry for you, and lets you go
As if you lack the proper chemicals to know
The way it felt the last time you let yourself fall this low
- Andrew Bird

Olivia, Pt. II

2010-11-27T15:22:00.005-06:00

Olivia

2010-11-24T03:12:00.002-06:00

Glamorous Glue

2010-11-23T01:50:00.002-06:00

I'm Wide Awake, Pt. II

2010-11-23T01:21:00.000-06:00

True Love Waits, Pt. IV

2010-11-23T00:42:00.004-06:00

True Love Waits, Pt. III

2010-11-23T00:23:00.003-06:00

True Love Waits, Pt. II

2010-11-16T00:38:00.006-06:00

True Love Waits

2010-11-13T22:16:00.007-06:00

I am finally getting around to posting the photos from the wedding I shot in early October. Sorry to keep nearly everyone, including myself, waiting.

Kendra has been a dear friend of mine since elementary school days. I have been there for her in her ups and downs and it goes without saying that she has been there for nearly all of mine, even though in recent years contact has been sparse. Kendra and Allen met at the pizza joint we all used to work at in high school. One of their first dates included attending my 20th birthday blow-out at my ex-boyfriend's ghetto college palace where they jointly witnessed an inebriated party guest almost fall out of a second story window, shattering the glass, falling to the floor in a confused stupor. Smells of so much romance, I know. I have witnessed their relationship bloom from the earliest stages in the most unexpected of places.

And it's impossible for me to sit back and really swallow the fact that one of my best friends just got married without considering, well, my own position in life.

I know it's difficult to imagine settling down when you're young. Well, at least it has been for me. I don't know if I can fully grasp the impact of love, and I have felt just too damn unsettled for my own good. This has been an area in which I've faltered significantly. I fall down, I get back up, and I fall down again. In many ways I am grateful for the pattern because it constantly challenges me, but it has also made me exhausted... and fearful of loving, afraid that my basket of eggs will fall right out of my hands, shells and yolk splashing up in my face in a tumultuous mess.

Posting these photographs has not only forced me to jot down this sort of disjointed reflection... thankfully the experience of photographing my friend's beautiful wedding reminds me to remain calm and to be open to the possibilities of love.

I have not ruled out any.

Congratulations and all of my love to Kendra and Allen. It was such a privilege to capture their happy day.

(P.S. I am posting photographs from the wedding gradually, so as to avoid an overwhelming page load time.)

I'm Wide Awake

2010-11-08T09:53:00.005-06:00

I am always on the brink of dozing each day I ride the El from the north side to downtown and back. It doesn't matter if I am fully rested, highly caffeinated, and deafening electric guitar. The perpetual forward motion of the train pushes me into a state of cloudiness, and I nearly always slip into a daydream, my eyes heavy in relaxation. I have trained myself to wake up each time the train stops, making note of how many stops are left before I exit. Occasionally, however, I am able to stay awake enough to take part in my favorite past-time -- people watching. Even more occasionally am I able to make a photograph of a complete stranger. There isn't anything particularly special about this photograph, but I am grateful for the opportunity to take it.

Like Cockatoos

2010-11-07T12:30:00.003-06:00

"There are a thousand things" he said
"I'll never say those things to you again"
And turning on his heel
He left a trace of bubbles
Bleeding in his stead
- The Cure

Riding in Trains with Girls

2010-11-07T12:29:00.002-06:00

I Know a Girl with the Golden Touch

2010-11-07T12:27:00.003-06:00

Let's Have a Black Celebration

2010-11-03T02:22:00.005-05:00

I listened to too much Depeche Mode while editing these photos from Sunday's Northalsted Halloween parade. Also, The Cure. And just in case this blog isn't massive enough for you, a more abundant lot of photos can be viewed here. Thanks to Time Out for assigning me yet another over-the-top Boystown parade to shoot.

Scared of Girls

2010-10-28T01:51:00.005-05:00

A Dreaded Sunny Day, So I Meet You At the Cemetery Gates

2010-10-16T16:50:00.002-05:00

A Matter of Perspective

2010-10-14T09:27:00.005-05:00

(archived photo)

I am learning to live without desire. This brings me to the doorway of uncharted territory. They say the only unexplored area left on earth is the 140 million square miles of the ocean floor. All things considered, I find this hard to believe.

Most of what we think is essential to our survival has been blown out of proportion. I used to think I would die if I couldn't dance. I have finally agreed to stop wanting what I can't have. Everywhere I go, the earth seems to be tilting away from me. If the sun were the size of a basketball, then the earth would be the head of a pin.

I am learning to live with the paradox that the horizon, when I finally get there, is not likely to be at all the way I pictured it.

There must be more to life than love. There must be worse things than being alone. Perhaps the trick is to remember that even the angles and shadows of a small empty room must operate according to the protocol of perspective. Examine the absolute inertia of corners where all three right angles must converge.

From my kitchen window I can see brick houses, yellow tulips, my neighbor's pink flamingo, and a blue car traveling north. I can even see the back of an apartment building three blocks over. I can see a small brown bird in a big green tree. I can see those many electrified wires by which we are all connected to each other and to the rest of the world. But I cannot catch even a glimpse of the horizon from here.

- Diane Schoemperlen

Glimpse

2010-10-11T22:53:00.001-05:00

I went home for a day to shoot my good friend Kendra's wedding. This is, of course, a painful tease visually and verbally as I impatiently mull my way through an overwhelming load of photos. But, golly, what a beautiful day. More to come shortly.

Sweet Feeling

2010-10-11T22:48:00.002-05:00

When I'm not scootin' around downtown, preparing and serving high protein food and drink to elite young inhabitants of the Sears (sorry, "Willis") Tower, I enjoy snoozing on Carrie's bed, playing with her cat, stealing her wireless internet, consuming her neighborhood's cheap falafel, and, of course, observing the beautiful streams of light that creep through her windows. Thank God for friendships this rare and wonderful.

Take a Deep Breath

2010-10-09T22:47:00.009-05:00

I won't drag out the vulgarity or the anger to address Charles Yesenczki's blog post, and in no way do I expect to receive even half the response, but I do have something -- I suppose it's rather recycled -- to say on the topic of photography, and it seems like now might be just as appropriate a time as ever. Especially after seeing the Cartier-Bresson exhibit at the Art Institute last weekend and feeling just, ah, in love, engaged, and bright-eyed about the possibilities of communication and expression in this particular medium.

In the time I spent as a photography student in college, I felt like I constantly fought for my credibility (most of the time against some invisible, mentally-contrived audience... some of the time against fellow photographers... but fighting and fighting nonetheless). Why did I feel this way? I overheard someone (rather, an "award-winning" photojournalism student) once say, "I can't imagine myself taking photos like these," in reference to my commercial class's work in the hallway display case. "What do you mean?" "You know... photos that don't matter."

I think, in the end, it is difficult for us to determine what work "matters" on a specific scale and what work doesn't. That's because YOU can't possibly know the entirety of my intentions (even if I so neatly spell them out)... and even though I have made several jabs at assuming yours, I can't accurately do that, either. And what's the scale, anyway? How do we establish that something like a photograph is meaningful?

The work that matters to me is the work that I care about doing.

In college, I identified myself as a "commercial" photographer. That's what my transcript reads, anyway. I didn't have a knack for shooting the news -- maybe I didn't have the interest, at least for awhile, either. On the other hand, I don't necessarily know if I had the interest in producing promotional/advertising photography. I guess I just wanted to have more of a say in the outcome, and of the two sequences, commercial seemed to fit my ambitions. Either way, it's all a pretty silly. Now that I find myself out of college, I consider myself a photographer. Labels aside, I take the photos I want to take, and I feel the pressures to fit in, to receive validation, to establish fans, and to seem utterly mind-blowing slip further and further away from concern.

I don't know if it was simply my sequence or my physical presentation or my social "associates" or, hell, even my gender (sorry to toss that card out there, but I do think it's pertinent in this particular field, especially professionally) that made me feel so stifled and invisible in VisCom, but I battled those shitty, ridiculous feelings until the day I graduated. Maybe perfectionism is to blame (or maybe a strong competitive nature that is now substantially weaker) for the standards I set for myself creatively, professionally, and, damn it, personally. If you're feeling stifled, I think it's important to examine why, to confront those fucking terrible feelings, and to fight them! Keep fighting them!

I found myself truly loving and admiring the work of so many beautiful and gifted photographers at Ohio University, and surely it was the inspiration of Charles and others that pushed me to step outside of the commercial world and consider the bigger picture. I started looking a little closer at everyone else's work to feel a little closer to my own. To everyone -- even those who I may never reach again and who may have no interest in reaching me -- thank you.

In the end, I don't think that entering contests is right or wrong. Certainly if you are proud of your work and you want it to reach people, there are effective ways of doing just that, especially if you're "just getting started." However, it's important to remember why we are where we are. And what keeps us going in a desired direction.

I did enter CPOY this year. Taking a step back, I can wholeheartedly say that I am proud of the work I produced in my final year of college, strained as it might have been, and I do find the work meaningful to my life and my journey as a young photographer. I felt relaxed and content submitting my work... probably because the pressure to rise above the rest of my classmates for a petty pat on the back wasn't there. Probably because I've realized that it's all so damn relative (and thankfully the Illustration category is virtually overlooked, ha). In the end, I just wanted to share my images with a greater audience so that they may captivate or touch, if even slightly, someone else. Maybe they are just a bunch of pretty "meaningless" photos to you. Maybe. I have never won an award in photography or received any formal acknowledgment for the photo work I've done. The reality is that I may never.

But thankfully, the impact of the photographs does not rely on such things out of my control.

You and Whose Army?

2010-10-08T21:05:00.003-05:00

Karen

2010-10-05T00:23:00.004-05:00

Bang Bang You're Dead, Hole in Your Head

2010-09-28T02:09:00.002-05:00

(archived photo)

Summer's Gone

2010-09-26T23:55:00.005-05:00

Selling the Drama

2010-09-26T23:51:00.004-05:00

Stella Was a Diver and She Was Always Down

2010-09-25T22:18:00.002-05:00

I Stood There Invisible in the Panicking Crowds

2010-09-21T13:48:00.001-05:00

You Looked So Beautiful in the Rising Heat

2010-09-21T13:25:00.005-05:00

All Growth Is a Leap in the Dark

2010-09-19T18:55:00.004-05:00

Those Days, Days, Days Run Away Like Horses Over the Hill

2010-09-19T18:02:00.013-05:00

Truly open your heart to others and watch the miracles of friendship and love unfold before you. My bitterness has probably taken years off of my small life. And I've often asked myself, "What will it take to find peace?" In this transitory time of my life, I've found immeasurable comfort in knowing that every day is an opportunity to turn it all around.

Sour Cherry

2010-09-14T11:38:00.003-05:00

Nobody Loves No One

2010-09-11T18:45:00.002-05:00

Church on Sunday

2010-09-07T02:22:00.002-05:00

"Strangely enough we are all seeking a form of devotion which fits our sense of wonder." - J. Marks

With a Heavy Lid

2010-09-07T02:13:00.002-05:00

Uh Huh Her

2010-08-31T01:30:00.003-05:00

(archived photo)

And Her

2010-08-30T01:41:00.008-05:00

(archived photo)

She's a Jar

2010-08-23T02:04:00.002-05:00

I Was a Superman, But Looks Are Deceiving

2010-08-23T00:51:00.005-05:00

Wordless Chorus

2010-08-22T23:15:00.004-05:00

Unfortunately, tomorrow marks my last day interning at Time Out Chicago. Because I already graduated and therefore they cannot compensate me via college credit, they weren't allowed to keep me on any longer than the summer. I suppose I am pretty lucky in that they made an exception in the first place and let me intern for the summer despite my post-college status.

This internship, though it only lasted two months, was a really rewarding experience for me. Time after time, I was thrown into intimidating situations, and, nervous and scared and "ill-equipped" as I was, I pulled through. I often felt empowered and proud -- most of the time, I was the youngest photographer for the press, and nearly all of the time, I was the only female. I navigated my way around the third largest city in the country to produce images for a well-known weekly publication, and I did it with little prior photojournalistic experience.

So, in summation, I am not saying I deserve a medal for my progress. However, for the past four years, I have witnessed my confidence in this medium sink lower and lower, and, in my final year of college, I too often sought the approval and validation of others to keep me afloat -- to give me a sense of purpose. To make me feel credible. I have not overcome all of my self-doubt (and thankfully, because that means that growth is never ending), but moving to Chicago on a leap of faith (and only a few hundred dollars -- ahh!) was probably the most difficult yet bravest decision I have made in my young life. It feels wonderful to know that I can surprise myself.

Even more wonderful is discovering what you're really made of in the midst of so much darkness.

With all that said, here are some images from My Morning Jacket's performance at the Charter One Pavilion (in Chicago) on August 17th. To see a much more generous edit, go here.

There's Always a Siren Singing You to Shipwreck

2010-08-16T22:27:00.003-05:00

But the Stillness Is a Burn

2010-08-09T18:53:00.005-05:00

I was dripping with sweat on the dance floor Saturday, two in the morning, packed like a sardine (you can finish the rest of the Radiohead reference), searching for pools of light, straining my eyes to focus my lens, averting my gaze from the fucked up and and lustful... but, you know, despite the awkwardness and difficulty of it all, there isn't much to complain about when you get free access to a Lollapalooza after party, DJed by Jamie from the xx.

Babe, I'm on Fire

2010-08-09T01:43:00.006-05:00

My love is real, a hefty hand that smacks you in the face. My love is alive, a fragrant flower with a milky white stem. Falling like snow down the staircase, broken dishes under my feet. Steering off the road into a ditch, into a tree, into a mail box, up and onto your charmingly groomed front lawn, just in time to wreck the party. Screaming like playground children, running after each other with melting Popsicles, balloons set free from sticky little hands. And we're up and off and into the empty air. My love is descending, a dimly lit alley filled with strays and garbage. My love is lying low, a sick and cowering dog under the kitchen table. Burning like skin under mid-August sun, swollen blisters on my shoulders. Running out the door into the garden, into the shed, into the swimming pool, up and onto your sizzling red car hood, just in time to shatter the glass. My love is on fire.

McDonald's

2010-08-07T18:16:00.000-05:00

Salonica

2010-08-04T02:33:00.002-05:00

Province

2010-08-04T02:04:00.001-05:00

On Being Replaced

2010-07-27T02:38:00.004-05:00

Bamboo Worldwide

2010-07-27T02:37:00.002-05:00

Where Was I

2010-07-25T03:24:00.005-05:00

(archived photo)

"Life would be infinitely happier if we could only be born at the age of eighty and gradually approach eighteen."
- Mark Twain

There's the kitchen. I spent the last year falling in and out of love with the water stained table, the warped linoleum tiles, the cobwebs in the corners, the rows of empty wine bottles, the rumbly washing machine, and the angsty faucet, screaming like a newborn. For most of twenty-two, I entertained guests with fried egg sandwiches and cups of coffee. Plates of re-heated spaghetti and pieces of cold pizza and stir fry over brown rice and homemade mashed potatoes and pools of melting ice cream and wheat toast with butter and tortilla chips and salsa and hot tea with milk and sugar and beer from the back of the fridge. Thanksgiving dinner, pumpkin guts, candy canes, birthday cake, wrapping paper, sappy cards, soggy Kleenex, junk from the bottom of my purse, junk from the bottom of my heart. Breakfast in silence. I look down into my cereal bowl, tears splashing into my Raisin Bran. Dinner with laughter and happily cramping bellies after drowsy days of snow. Drunk and nauseous, whining incoherently for my bed, for a glass of water, for a hug. Grocery lists and sticky notes and Oprah Magazine and Victoria's Secret catalogues and utility bills that I want to shred apart with my teeth. In February, I hated the plastic coating disallowing me a clear view of the outside world. In June, I sat and watched the early morning sun pour in through the glass, leaking all over the floor. I wrote a letter that I never sent. I took out the trash in contempt. I overloaded the dishwasher. I put my face down on the table, my cheek cool against the smooth wood, and listened for the ocean waves to sweep us up and away. I held your hand and told you it would be alright; and it was -- and it is, but it isn't the same.

The Medici

2010-07-21T01:40:00.007-05:00

For Sunday brunch, I had a tomato, spinach, and feta cheese omelette with fried potatoes and cinnamon toast with white raisins. If you're in Hyde Park, I highly recommend dining at this lovely two-story restaurant/bakery. I love discovering beautiful places in my neighborhood.

Waiting for the Night

2010-07-20T23:42:00.006-05:00

I'm waiting for the night to fall
I know that it will save us all
When everything's dark
Keeps us from the stark
Reality

I'm waiting for the night to fall
When everything is bearable
And there in the still
All that you feel
Is tranquillity

There is a sound in the calm
Someone is coming to harm
I press my hands to my ears
It's easier here just to forget fear

And when I squinted
The world seemed rose-tinted
And angels appeared to descend
To my surprise
With half-closed eyes
Things looked even better
Than when they were open
- Depeche Mode

(archived photo)

With the inspiration of this song and a growing collection of dim little frames that are both old and new, I created a new section of photographs on my website that I hope to populate indefinitely. For now, forgive its sparseness, and listen to some Depeche Mode circa 1990-1997 to get you good and moody.

Stay (Faraway, So Close!)

2010-07-19T00:36:00.010-05:00

Deviating from my norm, I realize it has been some time since I have really "written" anything to coincide with my photographs. Let me fill you in: I moved to Chicago one week after graduation, exactly one month ago today. I live alone in Hyde Park, splitting my time between interning, working, and adventuring (most of the time up north to see Carrie). So far, I haven't really had too much time to sit down and think think think. For me, this is a refreshing departure from how I spent my last summer in Chicago... and, really, how I spend most of my time in general. I have kept myself on my toes, I have made photographs, I have been persistent, and, for the first time, I have truly recognized the potential of my life. That isn't to say that living here is not humbling. In fact it is, almost daily, for me. That isn't to say I haven't had moments of sadness. In fact, I have, but I allow myself those moments, so that I may (to quote a friend), "Wash my face and carry on with my day." I have had worries -- boy, have I had challenges! Interning downtown for the first time was scary -- I did it. Finding a fun and flexible part-time job seemed impossible -- after over twenty applications and numerous interviews, I did it. I've navigated the depths of the ghetto -- alone, and at night. I've consistently slept in a pipin' hot apartment. I've pinched pennies. I've lived minimally. But, I'm here. I'm proud of myself. Do you know how amazing it is to admit that?

The above photographs are reminscent of the photos that I took during the first day of my internship (via 28mm rather than 50mm). My good friend Jill was visiting Chicago for the first time this weekend, so I served as a sort of makeshift tour guide of the city, of course making sure we stopped in Millennium Park to polish off her authentic tourist experience. We dipped our feet by the Crown Fountain, observed the throng of children soaking themselves from head to toe... and, just then, I remembered how good it felt to be free. On any hot summer day, a beautiful photograph is waiting to be made in this city. The realization alone is liberating enough.

Cold Water

2010-07-18T02:08:00.005-05:00

Am I Only

2010-07-18T02:06:00.005-05:00

Life in Technicolor

2010-07-14T00:06:00.011-05:00

“Color is my day long obsession, joy, and torment." - Claude Monet

Darker with the Day

2010-07-08T23:42:00.010-05:00

Amateurs, dilettantes, hacks, cowboys, clones
The streets groan with little Caesars, Napoleons and cunts
With their building blocks and their tiny plastic phones
Counting on their fingers
With crumbs down their fronts

I passed by your garden
Saw you with your flowers
The camellias, magnolias, and azaleas so sweet
And I stood there invisible in the panicking crowds
You looked so beautiful in the rising heat

I smell smoke, see little fires bursting on the lawns
People carry on regardless, listening to their hands
Great cracks appear in the pavement
The earth yawns
Bored and disgusted to do us down

Babe
It seems so long
Since you've been gone
And I just got to say
That it grows darker with the day
- Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Leaves That Are Green

2010-07-08T23:07:00.008-05:00

I was 21 years when I wrote this song
I'm 22 now, but I won't be for long
Time hurries on
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither with the wind
And they crumble in your hand

Once my heart was filled with love of a girl
I held her close, but she faded in the night
Like a poem I meant to write
And the leaves that are green turn to brown
And they wither with the wind
And they crumble in your hand
- Paul Simon

Pride (In the Name of Love)

2010-06-30T19:15:00.011-05:00

Shooting pride for work was a colorful, sweaty, noisy, gushy, glittery, lacy, racy, tasty lovey-dovey experience (with, thankfully, no rain). Simply put, I am honored to have been apart of it... and to have inevitably acquired the awkward sunburn and free condoms.

Been Around the Front, Been Around the Back

2010-06-24T00:29:00.009-05:00

It's comforting to step outside your door and find a photograph (and your best friend) there waiting for you.

In My Place

2010-06-24T00:18:00.008-05:00

Shade of Blue

2010-06-21T22:12:00.008-05:00

I've been here before, I know this shade of blue
It's you

I've felt your touch before, I know your way
A ghostlike sense of state
You're gone

I don't care if you can't take it, I can't take it anymore, I'll die
- Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

Bitter vs. Sweet

2010-06-15T01:07:00.007-05:00

I have seen the valley, and I've swam in it. It is dark and beautiful at the same time. But even the lowest valleys can, with strength, be climbed up and out of. I haven't seen the peak yet, but it's only made possible by confronting what's difficult, by embracing what's painful, and by letting go, and free falling all the way to the scary bottom.

This is the last photo I took in Athens yesterday evening before driving away and blowing out my speakers to Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody." Carrie and I kept this cake around -- this hunk of sweetness -- and we couldn't dream of saying goodbye, even when it was literally the very last item in our house. It took so much time to make! And it was so beautiful! Oh, the effort and the splendor of it. We took photos, threw it in the trash can, placed our keys in the kitchen, and walked away with a laugh, little trickles running down our faces.

Back to the Old House

2010-06-15T00:41:00.008-05:00

When you cycled by
Here began all my dreams
The saddest thing I've ever seen
And you never knew
How much I really liked you
Because I never even told you
Oh, but I meant to

Are you still there?
Or have you moved away?
Or have you moved away?

I would love to go
Back to the old house
But I never will
- The Smiths