Now, I get sent a lot of patriotic videos and chain letters.  I am a veteran.  I think that may have put me on a list somewhere. Everyone is very well-meaning, it’s just that I get A LOT of it, and frankly it is largely a lot of well-meaning crap.

However, none of it comes from my father, and his endorsement carries some weight.  So I followed the link and listened to a song that has really stuck with me. I dropped Helene a note to thank her, and to make a long story a little shorter, some of my images are in the song’s new Youtube video.

I encourage you to give it a listen, and should you feel so inclined, to get it to those whom may trust your opinion in a way that’ll get them to hear it.

I think it’s worthwhile.  Download it here.

You can find me on Wanderlustagraphy today.

Curated by Clayton Cotterell and Amy Elkins, Wanderlustagraphy is a photo collective.  A rotating gallery of single images from a wide range of photographers.  It feels a little like looking through a ‘keeper’ stack of promo cards, except of course, you can link directly to each photographer.  A decided improvement for everyone involved.

An outtake from a corporate shoot. I prefer pictures of men in suits to be a little dark, a little moody. I think the implied formality of a suit, like a military dress uniform or a suit of armor, lends itself to a little drama. But that’s not always the look I need to deliver. Luckily, with a little planning, there is generally time for both.

Perhaps, people get used to wearing something everyday and it loses some of the mystique for them. Whenever I leave my house in a suit I spend the first twenty minutes trying to get the Imperial March out of my head.

I have a desk drawer where I keep Iraq. All the negatives, all the test prints, my ragged journal stuffed with wallet pictures and dinars. When I first got home I’d pored over the images, disappointed with most of them. I don’t know exactly what I wanted them to be, but I’d felt they largely fell short. I made a small edit at the time of about 20 or so that I’d show to people, and the rest just got tucked away. As time passed I didn’t want to look at them, I’d made my selections. I didn’t feel much like reading my journal either, not for years.

A few months ago I decided it was time. I sat alone in my room and read my journal from start to finish, I spread all those prints out on the floor. I’ll admit it was hard for me, reading my own words sparked a kind of total recall. The images brought sounds and smells and absolutely overwhelming emotions. Looking back, I’d been so young. Young in a way that you don’t get back.

But it’s all a personal history now. I’d left most of the war on the plane, and tried hard to bring back only pictures. Pictures that upon later inspection offer a view into what I’d seen at the time and felt a need to photograph. It wasn’t digital then, and I’d had a limited number of frames to remember by.

I’ve begun revisiting those images I’d been ignoring. I remember where I was for each one, and many of them coincide with stories in my journal. I have mixed feelings about sharing some of that work. The photographs are often snapshots, made by a young man who didn’t fully understand his light meter. Some of them were with a disposable camera. I know now where I went wrong technically. I know now how I could have made them better. Like a schoolyard fight lost, I’d give anything to relive it as who I would become.

But six years later, I see now where my own history was a part of our history, and I think that’s a story worth sharing.

I’ll start with a new gallery on my site, SPACES.