What inspires me · Spring 2026
Nevada
A day of hiking through red rock in the Nevada desert. No green, no water, nothing soft — just stone that wind and time have been sanding for millions of years, striped cream and rust and coral. After a lifetime of forests, a place with this little in it taught me a lot about restraint.
The whole slope, striped
Layer on layer of red, coral and cream running diagonally across the rock face. That's sediment stacked up and then tilted, and it reads exactly like the grain in a good piece of wood. Same story, different material.
Walking through the gap
Two walls of banded rock and a floor of pale sand between them, barely wide enough for one person. Being held between two surfaces like that is a feeling I chase when I build something tall and narrow.
Waves in the stone
Looking straight up at a wall where the layers curl like water. Rock behaving like something soft — that contradiction is the whole reason I photograph this stuff.
The window
Dark rock in the foreground framing a bright cream ridge and a blue sky. The dark edges do all the work. I use that same trick — heavy on the outside, open in the middle.
One wall, then nothing
A sheer red face on the left and open desert running out to the mountains on the right. All that empty space next to all that weight. Negative space isn't a design idea out here — it's the whole landscape.
Out on the slickrock
That's me heading down the trail with the rest of the group ahead. I put this one in because scale matters — standing in it is the only way to understand how small the details I bring home really are.
Other journeys
Want a piece that carries a place you love?
Tell me about the trail, the trip or the room. I'll build toward that feeling with materials I've gathered myself.