“Be still, and know that I am God.” — Psalm 46:10

I often find myself overwhelmed with the noise and pace of the world we live in. A lot has changed since our grandparents were growing up. It seems that as our lives have physically become easier, they have become devoid of purpose and fraught with chaos.

Photography is more than just a hobby for me. It is a philosophy. I feel that so much is cheapened by the phones that travel with us everywhere and we loose a lot of the human connection that used to be, frankly, unavoidable. A camera lens forces a different kind of interaction: one that searches for the still moment.

In the Psalms, David illustrates the beauty of stillness. He was a man of immense friction—a warrior in the grit of battle, a refugee in the silence of caves, and a musician who processed his reality through the strings of a harp. He knew that to survive his story, he needed the Selah. This word is used repeatedly in the Psalms and is convoluted in its literal meaning, but the word carries a philosophical significance as well as a musical one. Selah is the “break” in the song, it is the voice lifted up in praise, and it is the weight of a pause.

My mission is to preserve memories that will last generations and pursue an art that helps me pause and think. I find that the most impactful stories aren't found in the polished and curated, but in the raw, honest evidence of a life actually lived.