Sweet Child of Mine.

Charleston, SC
More specifically the Geffert household.






I will pass up no opportunity to spend time with Ansley Geffert. I live vicariously through her curious mind, and I wish I could hear her thoughts about the world. Each sound is worthy of her wide eyed look, whether its her Mother's excellent choice of Latin Lounge music, her little feet teetering across the kitchen floor in attempt to find their rhythm, or the sound of the airplanes overhead, little fingers are pointed upward and smiling her signature toothy grin.


Yes, if I were 11 months old I would be friends with Ansley Elizabeth Geffert. We would conquer our little world together. We would talk about the next big adventure; the backyard is the next best thing to Neverland, where is Tink when we need her?! We would be certain to find the greatest treasures and marvel at the simplicity of our happiness and be the best of friends.

It takes so little to peak her interest. The sound of my car keys is a head turning, show stopping event. Everything is edible, not an uncommon trait for child her age. I was waiting for her to spell out words with her alphabet pasta as she gingerly picked up each letter to eat. If I had looked down and seen " airplane" or a simple "hello" I may have put a call in to Ripley's Believe It or Not...


I have photographed many children under the age of one as of late. There has been a baby boom amongst my friends. Each ultrasound I see or belly kick I feel makes me SO happy for the soon-to-be parents. I hope I can be the cool friend who happens to be a photographer and drops by for a random photo session with their children...

Case in point: Today.
Today was a necessary laundry day; because I was down to my last pair of underwear and I am leaving for a VERY exciting long awaited trip in the next few days. However, laundry is a dilemma in my house since the dryer has been broken for over a year now. I have relied on the kindness of various friends and the local Laundromat to accommodate my washing and drying needs. And as much as I am grateful for the thick skin I've had to acquire from fighting with Laundromat patrons over how many dryers I can use, I much prefer the less aggressive environment of a friends house. As well as the conversation and endless entertainment of their children.

Enter Heather and Ansley. Mother-Daughter team aka Ashley's rescuers of stinky clothes. I hope one day to return the favor somehow with something other than conversation and pictures. But as luck would have it, Heather loves to talk and Ansley is incredibly photogenic. As the laundry was whirring in the next room, I took it upon myself to whip out the camera at play time, meal time, naptime, and one small adventure across the golf course in the afternoon. The laundry would get done of course, but there is absolutely no excuse to miss the chance to photograph this sweet child exploring her world. I would not have missed it.

It baffles me that there is so much that can happen during the course of the day in terms of a child's life. Not a moment to miss really and Heather doesn't miss much. She and Ansley have the same eyes, they radiate with a kind of curiousness rarely seen these days; they beg the world to challenge them and they are ever seeking the answer to life's endless questions. If any one can find the secrets to the universe, it would be the two of them, hands down.

As her 1st birthday rapidly approaches I can't help but recall what a year it has been, Heather would agree. I did not understand how drastically a child changes your life; she's not even mine and I am totally changed! What is it about small children?! Do they have magical powers that make you melt and never want to leave their sight ever again?? They could be screaming and fussing for hours, any grown human fussing like that would get more than time out, patience would have been lost a long time ago. But a child, a baby, YOUR daughter, you would fight tooth and nail to keep her safe. Because life all of a sudden has only one horizon line...and the sun rises and sets on your children.

As it should.

In the grand scheme of things there is little else that matters at the end of the day besides the well being of someone so little who loves you so much. My grandmother used to say, " Make all the money in the world, but you could live in a shack for all I care as long as you're happy." That pretty much summed it up for me...


And as always, BIG love to Heather and AJ for letting me photograph their amazingly gifted, beautiful daughter, and for coming to my rescue in the hour(s) of a laundry meltdown...

If the Walls Could Talk.

Charleston, SC
My kitchen table, in my PJs.



It has been an incredibly busy last few weeks. I am trying to wrap my head around the idea that it is mid-August. When?! How?! The passage of time is at an all time high. Is that just the pace of the world in your mid-twenties or have I somehow skewed into a time warp and one month is actually one week and an hour feels like one second? Regardless, there is work to be done, travels to take, people to see, and things to love.


On my last trip north to Boston, I hopped on the "T" to headed towards Sutherland St. with full intention of finding the nearest open seat and taking a short nap ( it had been a taxing day of travel). It quickly came to my attention that sitting, was not going to be an option, the "T" itself almost wasn't an option if I hadn't asserted myself at the front of the long line of people that had materialized as soon as the train pulled up. There was standing room only by the time I made my way to my little corner. I clutched my camera, my backpack and my hat, three essentials when traveling with me. I had forgotten what a culture shock a Boston is compared to Charleston. I overheard a conversation being held in something that sounded like Farsi ( most exotic language that crossed my mind at the time), there was rapid Spanish speakers in the next corner, complete with expressive hand movements. I craned my neck to see what the girl who had managed to grab a seat was listening to on her ipod, something written in Korean, and last and most definitely my favorite was the Hasidic Jew sitting to my right reading a book that titled " Sex and Salvation: Virginity as a Soteriological Paradigm in Ancient Christianity." I reeaalllyy wanted to know why he had bought that particular book. I almost asked him, I almost took a picture of him; both were out of the question since my camera was buried in my bag and he seemed perfectly content ignoring the world around him, enthralled in his book. I did not want to disturb him, plus I would have had no string of sentences that would have made sense or sounded unoffensive. So I stayed quiet and people watched.

The differences between Northern and Southern living are pretty dramatic. I am not a foreigner to either side of the Mason-Dixon Line. I find that the overall persona of the cities can be seen in the people who live there. It would be one thing if I were comparing Boston and Charleston on their historical Landmarks or oceanfront views. But if I am trying to find the personality of a city, the only way to do that is to talk and observe the people who live there. It is here where I wish I could transmogrify myself into the walls of the subway, house, or local bar and get the latest gossip. They, without question, see and hear more than most, more the we may like to admit. The underbelly of a city is exposed only when all things are out in the open. Sitting there on the subway gave me a taste of Boston, I watched people interact with strangers ( which was minimal), address friends and relax into their natural habitat. It stood in contrast to Charleston since people are known for their "hellos" to perfect strangers, while the public transit is substituted with a bus rather than the "T", people still interact, and eye contact is made. It used to be quite unnerving when everyone on the street would say, "hello, hey, hi, how are you, good morning..etc", or some form of greeting. But I find myself doing it now, a sign of internal growth perhaps. I wonder what the walls would say about me if they could speak their mind?...If they had minds. Do you ever wonder that too? Most people shake their head and don't want to know; some jokingly roll their eyes. I wonder if that is because we feel as though the way we perceive ourselves is not accurately shown to others? Or do we have something to hide? Is our outward portrayal incongruent with our inward one? I imagine an infinite number of responses from the walls. And depending on which walls I can also see the answers not portraying a full and whole person, much like using landmarks to solely represent the heart of a city. The walls of a church, house, bar, bedroom, bathroom, or subway depict who we are in that moment however fleeting or lengthy it may be. We can leave the walls behind, break them down, or build them up, it still does not allow us to leave our bodies or our thoughts behind. We have to live with ourselves every hour of the day, and learn to be okay with who we are, understand our flaws, and acknowledge our strengths.

So, IF the walls could talk, I would tell them to mind their own business.