abstract.

this is my friend piper standing in a photobooth. She is the one that named me pancake. we have matching tattoos on our necks.


this, is an overexposed "pizza by the slice" sign. no photoshopping.


this is a designer lamp, hanging in an overpriced store on Valencia street.


this is the remnants of my friends tag on the bathroom stall at 330 Rich.


this is a time lapse exposure of the building directly across from the Starlight Room.

hide and seek

..with Coco

LiloFee

I really love this band.

pancake reverb

I have the word "Pancake" tattooed on the back of our neck. I don't see it very often, but I know it's there. In the same way my passion for art and photography is always there. Much like an echo of sound, a whisper, a reverb.

These are from artschool: A phone, shot with an old polaroid land camera and some expired film; a BW from a series of dead tulips on terrecata slabs; and a van dyke contact print from a 4x5 negative. All of them were experimental. I was far more adventurous ten years ago.





I shoot with a digital camera now and process my work through a computer. But, like my tattoo, this art will always be a part of me and my journey as an artist.

Museum of Jurassic Technology

One of my favorite places

(to go with Andrew.)

thank you nabakov

My drives to Ashland, Oregon always inspire something artistic. Something about the bare and minimal landscape appeals to my eye. This trip I was feeling especially creative. I am also reading Nabokov's autobiography Speaking, Memory (which apparently he translated from Russian while he was also in Ashland). It was a strange coincidence that made me even more sensitive to its meaning and inspired by its poetry.

It begins with:

the cradle rocks above an abyss, and common sense tells us that our existance is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.




If it is true that great art inspires other great art, I have Nabokov to thank for this series.

passenger seat 2.

I love the combination of speed and the shutter..the abstraction. the blur. the distortion of color. So here are some photos from my drive to Oregon. I just finished editing them.. and even though I have tons of "work" photography to do..I try to do projects like these to remind myself I am among other things, an artist.

soundtrack: The Beatles box set 1967-1970

"ass in the air"

There is a certain part of one's life that lives on their hard drive. For me, it is my photos, my music and the remnants of my graduate program in which I studied post modern feminist art (i.e. Cindy Sherman).

So when I went to my friend Cliff's last night to retrieve the recovered data from my old hard drive I was hardly surpised, when the one file that should cause an error message, was actually a Cindy Sherman image I titled "ass in the air".

Still there was the brief moment, before I was able to explain to him the image was an art piece I wrote about in school, that we both stared at the screen and burst into laughter. Because really, what are the chances, of all the 88,000 files recovered, this error message should be created.

Passenger seat 1.

put me in the passenger seat



and I will make art.