Selected Works

Waxed Nostalgia

My mother, a consummate create and natural wordsmith, thought I should name my photo business Waxed Nostalgia. It was a beautiful appointment with a natural rhythm, and it matched perfectly with the classic portraiture and wedding photography I was engulfed by at the time. But it felt much too old a name for the business of a twenty-something, and I eventually latched on to the portmanteau Pixelegant.

As an older man that’s abandoned the lure of traditional service photography gigs, I’ve found myself rummaging through old film negatives, looking for a voice and an eye that represents me - not the me someone hired me to be. Reviewing my days of manual cameras and TMAX film have revived a piece of me I thought long gone. This gallery is a combination of those vintage film images from my past and fine art black and whites from the present day, presented as my vehicle of reemergence as an artist. My mother would be proud.

The Last Hood in America

Somewhere in the good book it promises that He goes ahead to prepare a place for us, the chosen ones. The ones that were promised an inheritance in exchange for the long-suffering of submission, and a genteel that invites easy imposition. Meek and mild, as our Savior is. And just as destitute.

But there must be a place for us here. There must be a space reserved for the magicians who transform every piece of sacrifice and neglect and pain into the global pulse of otherness. There must be a corner reserved for the hands and hearts that supplicate mercy from the emptiness of a conquerer's soul. Why is it that "wherever people of color live, we and the landmarks that embody our presence, unprotected, piece by piece, are being replaced?"

Our haunts are still homes.Our ghettos are still glorious. Our shacks are still a someplace to somebody. I will speak truth to supposedly colorblind eyes of betterment, that somehow see the green in our blues just fine. My eyes will stand witness to the value of the forgotten. My tools will work magic over the tragedies of our loss.

The Preserve

Atlanta has earned the moniker of “a city in a forest” because of the keen attention paid to preserving and growing it’s prominent tree canopy. I’m fortunate to have one of the few vestiges of untouched, old growth forest in my neighborhood –the Cascade Springs Nature Preserve. I’ve been slowly shooting and documenting the fragile balance of life within this 120 acre sanctuary of metro Atlanta, and have grown to appreciate the cycles and seasons so much more. I hope to create a body of work that not only beautifully illustrates the value of the Preserve, but can also be used to financially support it’s preservation and protection.