I often feel as if we are currents. Moving in directions that ebb and flow through each others lives. Every once in a while there is a person that comes along that is moving at the same pace as you.
I remember years ago, we shared a room together, and would stay up talking about complete nonsense. Then the next day that nonsense would become something profound. Those conversations, that were passing thoughts, would start where they left off without missing a note. Adventures didn't stop. Whether it was random drives down to San Francisco through the night, or pedaling bikes across town to grab a beer.
Swift has always been one of those people I completely trusted from the start. He's warm. There is a poise to him that allows you to open up about your greatest fears and your sharpest insecurities. And his talent is something I'm always looking to catch up with.
Taylor, "Hey, I need you to check this out and let me know what you think."
Johannes, "Did you just send me a song? Are you making music now? Are you kidding me. You're fucking kidding me, right?"
-the little brother in me exhales in disbelief.
Taylor's life is a work of art. He's that friend that oozes an expressive sense of thought into everything around him.
I met Taylor as a photographer, then a woodworker, a fisherman, a writer and the list continues to grow.
He's a mentor and a best friend. And one of the biggest reason's I started this whole project.
Take With Me is devoted to humans that I can't imagine life without. They are forces that stretch everyone around them to be a grander version of themselves and constantly shape the world they want to live in. I wouldn't be myself with those humans not in my life and I wouldn't be myself without this gentleman in my corner.
How did you got involved with photography?
When I was seventeen, I somehow convinced my parents to let me and a friend road trip from Virginia to California for 3 weeks. Just before we left I was given a Pentax Spotmatic II, a classic film camera from the late 60’s. It was beautiful. I continue to shoot in manual even today because of this camera. It gave me a inherent sense of metering and exposure that honed my own style and aesthetic.
Why is it important to me?
Photography has become interwoven into my identity. It is a form of creative expression that has been imprinted on me.
Light is the fastest thing in the known universe, in theory. It can travel at over 186,000 miles per second. Not only can our eyes pick up on this but we’ve created this device that can actually capture it. It is truly incredible we harness this capability and it's become so prevalent and accessible, via iPhones and such, that people don't even give it a second thought. Light is affected by many things: a sea of space, dense clouds, atmospheric haze, or even smoke. Everything it passes through changes how we perceive it.
If you care to experiment with this, look at the back of your hand- every day. Every day in different conditions; inside, outside, in the rain, in the snow, in the bathtub, during the sunset, on a mountain top, on a city bus, in your bed when you fall asleep and when you wake up. Notice the warmth and coolness of your skin, the texture, the shadows. How does that one scar look or the color of your nails or the squished together skin of your knuckles? Revel in the light.
Do I have other creative outlets?
I dabble with woodworking, vintage cars, motorcycles, and I build nets of all shapes and sizes for work. I work with my hands a lot. They have callouses and bumps and scars. If I hold my index fingers side by side, they point slightly different directions. I like my hands, they have built beautiful things. I like creating things.
Is there something I look to for inspiration/process?
Most of what makes me feel whole, I find in nature. My introversion lends itself to one-on-one conversation with friends and walks through the woods. I look to the trees, the mountains, the stones, (especially ones that are good for skipping). I see things around me that I cherish and want to carry with me. I photograph some of them; others, I leave as distant memories.
What do you hope your work becomes?
One of my earliest aspirations with photography was to share nature’s quiet moments. The ones that are often missed or in the wake of a booming storm. In my early days I hoped to be an Ansel Adams or Galen Rowell. Then I hoped to simply be Taylor Swift… but that got muddled real quick. At this point, it sounds a bit odd, but I hope to be synonymous with my work. I want to be known for what I create. Whether that is a photograph or a lamp or a book. I want to be known, not famous… known.