My fiancée and I, when we moved into our new apartment in NYC, looked at the blank walls for the first few months and wondered if this could actually be a home. We sorted through the pictures I took from our various adventures around the world and settled on a few. We wondered around in Brooklyn and thrifted a couple large picture frames, gutted the insides like surgeons and put in our own prints; a photographic transplant. We now look at a Vancouver sunset above the bed and a Tulum beach in the kitchen.

If my bio page could be a song, I would want it to be sung by Sufjan Stevens

Me and My dad like to build stuff from scratch. I can recall countless projects around the house, redoing the drywall, painting, and landscaping the yard. My mom loved to sow, she made tennis skirts and other childlike outfits and tiny pillows, flowery and tropical designs. She had a room dedicated to her sowing and when she passed away, we inherited what was clearly a disorganized collection of her creations. She lived within us through these mislabeled, bright, beautiful plastic bins.

When I grew up in Florida, where a pale dude like me gets sunburnt just getting the mail, I dreamed to migrate north like the birds away where the sun can’t hurt me anymore. Since then, I’ve grown to enjoy backpacking here in New York and feel unafraid of spending hours outside. I love my tent, my hammock, the meals I make over the fire, and the weird sounds you hear at night.

It would only make sense that I’m naturally drawn to shooting on film and playing around with the physicality of the medium. I have a particular love affair with 16mm and 35mm for that reason. I love Andrei Tarkovsky, Andrey Zvyagintsev and Edward Yang films (Stalker, Loveless, and Yi-Yi to name a few favorites).