The Badlands of South Dakota...

This place was the real reason for my trip. I remember going there as a kid - years ago with my wonderful aunt and uncle and cousins - and seeing this place was the highlight of my trip. I wanted to stay for a long time and take in the view, but we had to leave quickly to get home at a reasonable time.

Ever since, I wanted to go back - to experience it for myself and stay as long as I liked. The wait was worth it - what a wonderful place.

A scene near the badlands that had me giddy with anticipation. At this point I didn't really know where I was. I kept looking at a map, not quite sure if I was on the right road - since some of the roads here don't seem to have signs. However, I didn't really care once I got here and watched the sun peek through the clouds, illuminating only parts of the beautiful land in front of me.  

Remember Star Wars and the way they would make the jump to lightspeed? That's what this photo reminds me of... 

This was a spot right off a busy highway in South Dakota. Since I was in a rush to the badlands, I hopped out of the car, ran around the scene with my camera, and then jumped back in my car. Like the entire two-day trip, I barely had time to ingest what I was seeing and doing until I got home. This is one of the "winners" of the trip.  

Day two began like this: rainy and dreary. I was SO close to going home... waiting at a stop light for a train to pass. Left was South Dakota - turning right was home. At the last second, a car behind me waiting for my decision after the train had passed, I turned left to South Dakota, risking the weather. It turned out to be a good choice... 

PHOTOGRAPHY - SHOTGUN STYLE... 2 days... 36 hours... 1400 miles... and two states. This was the very first shot of the trip - the VERY first time I brought out my camera - nearly five hours into the trip. More to come! 

This is just one of those pictures that turned out better than expected.  

"I was haunted by the idea that I'd remembered her wrong." - Solaris, 2002.

Have you noticed that memory often changes in ways we don't expect? Entire scenes we hold dear are not exactly how they happened, and you find out through a simple conversation that something deep inside of you - a memory of an old friend, a grandmother, a favorite childhood experience - didn't happen like you remembered? It's a frightening experience, one that asks if we are ever truly able to trust our memories.

I almost didn't take this one. I passed by it twice during tonight's "photo expedition" with my wife. I just didn't think there was anything there... but I thought about the little spot as I walked somewhere else. When I came back to it, I had the idea for this shot. It seems to me a place where dreamers can dream, and the real world has no influence on those who take a turn in the shade. As Uncle Marty would say "What a shot!"  

There are precious few moments when the light is right for this kind of shot. I kept driving around frantically, the morning of my two-year anniversary of my marriage, looking for a place to get the sky without power lines or buildings in the way. I had to drive to the top of a hill, a little ways out, to get the shot.  

My family loves to cook. Whenever we have a family gathering, home-cooked food must be involved... and they aren't messing around, either. There's almost never any store-purchased, manufactured goods. The gravy, breading, sauces, and even salad dressing are all prepared fresh for the meal. It's a day-long process - with my sister and mother waking up early to cook. I always loved to eat the food... and only now, with a new house and a wife, do I realize what a special gift it is to be able cook something good for someone else. There's something truly wonderful about being able to cook for my wife, and a little part of me becomes uncontrollably giddy when she asks for seconds. Some couples have special songs - special places to go - and we do too... but we also have special meals we have shared, and certain foods will always link me to those moments with her.  

This is the tummy of a princess. It is very soft.  

This is my dog, Alabama. We once would run through open fields with frisbees, enjoying clear blue skies together. She would run until her legs trembled, and then find some shade to take a short rest. Her heart and love for me had no limits. Today she is no longer able to run with me. She's blind and old and has diabetes - but her tail is still strong and thumps on the wall when I come and visit (she still lives at my parent's). I have no doubt that she is one of the reasons I have grown into the man I am. She taught me patience, devotion, how to love without reservation, and how to overlook some of the bad things about people and focus on the positive. That's what she did with me, and I will never be the same. She continues to touch my life as I see her getting older and facing these days with courage. There will never be - ever - another Alabama.  

I keep coming back to this place - trying to figure out what makes it look so amazing. It strikes something inside of me... that beauty can be found hidden in back roads and small places you'd never expect. I found this spot one saturday morning on a dusty road, and became mesmerized by the location. I've taken over 100 pictures at this spot with four different cameras - but this one picture captures everything best. I almost don't want to return for fear that it might be different - that the owners might change the land, build a new fence, hack down some trees... who knows? Things change so quickly, but this picture will always be one of my favorites and remind me of saturday mornings with my camera, trying to learn what makes a good photograph.  

DOUBTING - Sometimes it's easy to doubt what you can do. I do it all the time, even though I don't voice it very much. Can I be a photographer? No - I tell myself not to try too hard, or send photos off to magazines, or put 100% into seeing if things can work. Yet every event I've gone to, every time I packed my gear, checked my batteries, and really tried to be a "photographer" - I've come back with images that capture the event. I can do this... 

Mornings like this one are inspiring. A Saturday morning in the country - driving around looking for beauty to photograph. It was so calm on this morning as I got out of my car and walked around this abandoned farm. It was such a silent morning, the mist just clearing from the horizon. I walked around the land and imagined an entire family living there, loving, laughing, dreaming, and eventually leaving.  

The Forgotten. 2005

My wife is the very definition of beauty.
She creates art with words. With pictures. With paint and color.
She always tells me how lucky she is... but I'm the lucky one...
to meet her at Barnes and Noble Bookstore at a job I didn't even need.
Without her my life would be void of her vivid color and beauty that permeates everything she touches.

My wonderful wife is an artist. She doesn't believe it sometimes, and sometimes doubts herself... but how can you doubt the beauty and joy in her work? This bench was created to benefit a children's museum in Omaha - to be auctioned off to rich people for the museum. There were three benches created, and my wife's just happened to not garner as much money as the other benches (there were three total). She's disappointed, and it's easy to understand why; her bench was easily the most amazing artistic piece in the entire room.

She finds reasons to doubt herself sometimes, but she shouldn't. You can't apply dollar signs to something like this, because that's not the point. The point was to make people smile - to make children smile - and if a room full of rich people are were too drunk or too stuck up to remember what it's like to be a kid, to have "ice cream dreams," then screw 'em.

The success of this bench can't be measured in dollars. It will be measured in the thousands of children who stop by the bench to read its inspirational words and view its brilliant colors - and who smile because of it. In years it will be worn, its color faded by thousands of gentle small hands, but it will have done more good in the world than any of the people at the event could ever imagine.

Casey - you bring smiles to everyone who views your art, and I can't imagine a more powerful and important thing than that. You make me have more hope in the world. I love you.

We live in fragments of time, in a reality in which time passes so quickly, it's almost impossible to grab hold of what we are experiencing. Even thousands of photographs over a lifetime amount to mere minutes... in the end, memory is all we have.