summer

sleeping in and a day at the park

the day they overturned prop 8

happy times at the capitol plus perfect light and rainbow for a few minutes -- almost eerie it was so fitting.

by the beach

Damon Conrow

Damon has been addicted to heroin for seven years.
In hopes of ending the cycle that slowly eats away at him, he pleaded up to first-degree felony so he could stay in prison longer than the state asked, for his drug distribution charges. It was the only way he could think of to get away from the drug.
I spent time with Damon before he went to prison, back in January, and visited him a few times in Gunnison, where he currently serves his sentence. He's gained upwards of 30 pounds and looks healthy again -- healthy enough for me to hardly recognize him after I saw him again for the first time back in April.
This story started as part of a giant project on opiate addiction in Utah. But after a couple of months I realized that I didn't have the time to do that on my own and I also thought Damon's story could very well stand on its own.
As I got to know him, the fact that he is a drug addict faded behind the story of his life, his lonely days and nights in his dad's basement. His withdrawal from a world he very much wants to be a part of and his desperate and unsuccessful attempts at escaping the drug. And through getting to know him my goal to show an addict's life became a desire to show Damon's life, with the addiction that's wrecking him being a part of it. A part of a lot more things I felt and saw when I spent time with him.

Video is here.
I also wrote the story, which is here.

why am i here?

Right after Christopher Kirvan, 17, fell to his death trying to climb a rock face at Ogden's Waterfall Canyon, I sat at the trailhead with my camera and watched his family trickle in.
With the light fading fast I saw one by one hearing the terrible news and while the shutter clicked relentlessly, my heart told me to pack up and let them grieve in private.
I also remembered Trent's blog post a while back, sharing some readers' thoughts about his photo of essentially the same scenario.
I don't often feel doubtful about shooting private situations but every once in a while I search for a reason why I should be there and why our readers need to see Kirvan's sister (below) having probably worst moment of her life. It's easy to figure out what my editor wants in this case and it's relatively easy to point my lens and shoot. But as I took home their cries ringing in my ears I just couldn't find a real reason that made me feel truly OK to be there. But then maybe it would be weird if that shot were easy to take. Or if the events didn't touch me. I think about photos of grieving people I have seen and how they often make me appreciate photojournalism for its power to make you relate. So then I hope that sometimes maybe the true meaning of a photograph reveals itself over time and not in the moment it was taken.

not bad for a day in the office

hoping to get shots of a wildfire, I took skyline drive from farmington to bountiful and was stunned speechless.

micha in the trees

sarah

kids quietly mix with politics at the july 4 parade in kaysville

horse family

this is proof again

a few weeks ago i went to hang with a group of archeologists and some high school students in 9 mile canyon for a few days. it was the first time the paper had sent me anywhere for more than a day (probably because I have a tent and food was provided).
i was the only one going down there and had to shoot stills, video and write the story. having a writing background, i was glad to go, especially since i could sleep on the ground and play in the mountains.
but even though I had plenty of time to do interviews and shoot at 1 and 30 frames per second, it was hard to bring back work that satisfied me. when something cool happens and i'm not sure whether to produce pen and paper or hit record or the shutter release, work suffers.
sure, it was ok stuff but when i go somewhere for more than a day, i want it to be great stuff. so every time i try to do 'everything' i'm disappointed and come to the same conclusion: that a medium suffers if you try to shoulder another one at the same time.
anyway, here are some photos that are more of the playing around with the camera kind from a trip that was still pretty amazing. because what you can't see, we played in the mountains quite a bit , so much i had to put away the cameras and hold on for dear life...
here is the story, if you're interested.

Meghan and the Moon

sorry. if I start messing with html the results can't be pretty. be patient. i'll figure it out. inner wrapper? outer shell? what?

ragnargnar

a few here and there out of the van while we were running the race. good times.

outside.

i covered an arts class in jail put on by redemptionart.org, an organization that exhibits and sells the inmates' art.
it was difficult to understand the magnitude of these women's life inside. i thought about it as I walked out the sturdy iron doors and as I drove home through heavy clouds and the sun setting over the lake. i thought about it as I ordered dinner and walked into my apartment. reality is different in there. i haven't spent a year in jail. or two. or eight. but i came away feeling that life is harsh, sometimes too harsh to grasp. these women won't smell oncoming rain or get to chose what to eat tonight or walk into an apartment of their own for years to come. these photos of shellie and sasha next to each other drove home those contrasts. interesting stuff that makes me thinky and remember that there is no default to life.

summer writing class in ogden.
held outdoors where creative juices flow
and a day on which everything seems special.

sowing goodness

maybe it reflected my mood that day when i came away from a bright sunny gardening assignment with photos that look heavy. or is it just me. kind of like an artist taking thick brush strokes with fat, gluey paint, i saw in those kids and this process something that made me want to dive in and drown out a little of the white noise i've been hearing so much lately. this was a therapist who uses gardening as one of her methods to get closer to clients. it seemed such an organic way to go about things. i liked it a lot.

rrrrrrrrrreal

i love the game. but the fans, drums and cheering is what makes my little german soccer heart rejoice...it feels like home when i hear those sounds. only here people don't get blindingly drunk and smash their faces with fists and other more rugged utensils.

night owl

lack of sleepyness, too much computer and the air that's sweet and heavy with pollen had me head out last night for a walk around the neighborhood.