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I finally had the time to bake my first couples of loaves since moving back to Nebraska.

The same sourdough starter has been with me for over 6 years (!). It barely made the two-day drive from the East Coast but thankfully persisted. 🥹

I stumbled upon @niobrara_grain_milling last weekend and am excited to try these loaves made with their Clark’s Cream flour!

I finally had the time to bake my first couples of loaves since moving back to Nebraska.

The same sourdough starter has been with me for over 6 years (!). It barely made the two-day drive from the East Coast but thankfully persisted. 🥹

I stumbled upon @niobrara_grain_milling last weekend and am excited to try these loaves made with their Clark’s Cream flour!

Somewhere on the side of the road near Chico, MT. 3/20/2026.

Somewhere on the side of the road near Chico, MT. 3/20/2026.

After nearly 7 years of living on the East Coast, I am moving back to Nebraska at the end of the month, dipping my toes again into the freelance world — both as a photo editor and taking assignments as a photographer again!

What a dream it was to work at National Geographic for the last year and a half with such talented photographers and on stories that took readers all around the world. 

Last photo was taken 10 years ago on a rural road in Northwest Nebraska ❤️

After nearly 7 years of living on the East Coast, I am moving back to Nebraska at the end of the month, dipping my toes again into the freelance world — both as a photo editor and taking assignments as a photographer again!

What a dream it was to work at National Geographic for the last year and a half with such talented photographers and on stories that took readers all around the world. 

Last photo was taken 10 years ago on a rural road in Northwest Nebraska ❤️

After nearly 7 years of living on the East Coast, I am moving back to Nebraska at the end of the month, dipping my toes again into the freelance world — both as a photo editor and taking assignments as a photographer again!

What a dream it was to work at National Geographic for the last year and a half with such talented photographers and on stories that took readers all around the world. 

Last photo was taken 10 years ago on a rural road in Northwest Nebraska ❤️

After nearly 7 years of living on the East Coast, I am moving back to Nebraska at the end of the month, dipping my toes again into the freelance world — both as a photo editor and taking assignments as a photographer again!

What a dream it was to work at National Geographic for the last year and a half with such talented photographers and on stories that took readers all around the world. 

Last photo was taken 10 years ago on a rural road in Northwest Nebraska ❤️

After nearly 7 years of living on the East Coast, I am moving back to Nebraska at the end of the month, dipping my toes again into the freelance world — both as a photo editor and taking assignments as a photographer again!

What a dream it was to work at National Geographic for the last year and a half with such talented photographers and on stories that took readers all around the world. 

Last photo was taken 10 years ago on a rural road in Northwest Nebraska ❤️

After nearly 7 years of living on the East Coast, I am moving back to Nebraska at the end of the month, dipping my toes again into the freelance world — both as a photo editor and taking assignments as a photographer again!

What a dream it was to work at National Geographic for the last year and a half with such talented photographers and on stories that took readers all around the world. 

Last photo was taken 10 years ago on a rural road in Northwest Nebraska ❤️

@chicoreview

@chicoreview

@chicoreview

Fulshear, Texas. 2018

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

You can say “Happy New Years” in February, right?

All the way back in 2014, I wandered the streets of Guayaquil, Ecuador photographing the country’s tradition of El Año Viejo, where handmade effigies made of papier-mâché and other materials — often of famous figures or pop culture icons — are burned at midnight to symbolize the start of a new year and to liberate oneself the previous year’s burdens.

With the help of @santiarcosv and @patriciomorales92, we ventured to different neighborhoods for weeks, photographing different local communities who had gathered around food, dance, and the intense spectacle of burning away the negativity into the year.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

I could write a novel about my love for Henry and how much he has meant to so many people. How we both saved each other’s lives multiple times in the last 13 years. How he represented how every pet should be: kind, patient, loving, with a touch of absurdity and dramatics.

To keep it brief, this was best dog in the world, and that’s not even close to exaggeration.

The February 2026 issue of @natgeo is my first cover story as a photo editor!

Featuring beautiful underwater images from @shanegrossphoto, Sweetings Pond on Bahamian island of Eleuthera is home to the highest density of seahorses in the world and is offering scientists new insights into the secret lives of this elusive fish. Please do take a look — both in print and online!

The February 2026 issue of @natgeo is my first cover story as a photo editor!

Featuring beautiful underwater images from @shanegrossphoto, Sweetings Pond on Bahamian island of Eleuthera is home to the highest density of seahorses in the world and is offering scientists new insights into the secret lives of this elusive fish. Please do take a look — both in print and online!

The February 2026 issue of @natgeo is my first cover story as a photo editor!

Featuring beautiful underwater images from @shanegrossphoto, Sweetings Pond on Bahamian island of Eleuthera is home to the highest density of seahorses in the world and is offering scientists new insights into the secret lives of this elusive fish. Please do take a look — both in print and online!

The February 2026 issue of @natgeo is my first cover story as a photo editor!

Featuring beautiful underwater images from @shanegrossphoto, Sweetings Pond on Bahamian island of Eleuthera is home to the highest density of seahorses in the world and is offering scientists new insights into the secret lives of this elusive fish. Please do take a look — both in print and online!

In and around Fulshear, Texas. 11/26/2025.

In and around Fulshear, Texas. 11/26/2025.

In and around Fulshear, Texas. 11/26/2025.

In and around Fulshear, Texas. 11/26/2025.

I began photographing in my hometown of Fulshear, Texas 10 years ago now. It originally had a population of about 700 people when I was young but by the time I left for college, there were obvious signs that the area was in the midst of drastic changes. There were small things — a delivery pizza chain had come to town; the land surrounding downtown became playground for polo players from Houston; a large toll road was built just at the area’s doorstep.

But it wasn’t until 2015 that while driving to the larger nearby city of Katy through the usual course of back roads that I was forced to pull over to the side of the road. For the first time in my life, I was lost. In the months while I was away at college, the roads I knew were closed and new ones seem to appear out of nowhere.

The first images I photographed were driving around Fulshear’s back roads, photographing scenes that caught my eye. In early 2016, I photographed four dogs protecting a newly constructed gate to a property that had recently sold. From my car window, the four dogs and I had a stare down. Then slowly, a little Chihuahua made its way between the bars of the gate.

It was kind of a peculiar scene, but they weather that day was less than optimal and the lighting wasn’t great.

The next year in 2017, I worked consecutively on this photo project for a couple of months. The photo of the dogs from stayed in the back of my mind. It somehow served as a symbolic warning from the wealthy newcomers that the town I grew up in was now theirs.

I drove by the gate again, looking to see if the dogs were standing at attention. No luck. Suddenly though, I heard barking and to my amazement the same four dogs came to the gate. We had another stare down. Then, again, the little Chihuahua slowly made its way between the bars. It was almost the same photograph as a year before.

Serendipity is often a word used when describing documentary photography – with lighting, moments, etc. Oftentimes though, it’s also a study of patterns of behavior.

Both images were taken off of Bois d’Arc Lane, outside of Fulshear, Texas. The first image is from 2017 and second image is from the previous year.

I began photographing in my hometown of Fulshear, Texas 10 years ago now. It originally had a population of about 700 people when I was young but by the time I left for college, there were obvious signs that the area was in the midst of drastic changes. There were small things — a delivery pizza chain had come to town; the land surrounding downtown became playground for polo players from Houston; a large toll road was built just at the area’s doorstep.

But it wasn’t until 2015 that while driving to the larger nearby city of Katy through the usual course of back roads that I was forced to pull over to the side of the road. For the first time in my life, I was lost. In the months while I was away at college, the roads I knew were closed and new ones seem to appear out of nowhere.

The first images I photographed were driving around Fulshear’s back roads, photographing scenes that caught my eye. In early 2016, I photographed four dogs protecting a newly constructed gate to a property that had recently sold. From my car window, the four dogs and I had a stare down. Then slowly, a little Chihuahua made its way between the bars of the gate.

It was kind of a peculiar scene, but they weather that day was less than optimal and the lighting wasn’t great.

The next year in 2017, I worked consecutively on this photo project for a couple of months. The photo of the dogs from stayed in the back of my mind. It somehow served as a symbolic warning from the wealthy newcomers that the town I grew up in was now theirs.

I drove by the gate again, looking to see if the dogs were standing at attention. No luck. Suddenly though, I heard barking and to my amazement the same four dogs came to the gate. We had another stare down. Then, again, the little Chihuahua slowly made its way between the bars. It was almost the same photograph as a year before.

Serendipity is often a word used when describing documentary photography – with lighting, moments, etc. Oftentimes though, it’s also a study of patterns of behavior.

Both images were taken off of Bois d’Arc Lane, outside of Fulshear, Texas. The first image is from 2017 and second image is from the previous year.

Listening to the new Rosalía nonstop the past days. The references of spiritual mystic immediately reminded me of an image I photographed in 2016 at the Aarhus Cathedral in Denmark.

I was participating in the International Photo 1 program at @dmjxphoto . Myself and nine other students were tasked with the assignment of choosing a door, and consequently photographing whatever occurred behind said door.

I opened the cathedral’s doors to find that, as in many cases when a service are not in session, most individuals veering their eyes towards the church ceiling. I found that image quite boring and considered the venture a failure until I saw a young boy running around.

My Grandma Pat would have been 92 years old last month. ❤️ Photos from my personal project “My memories ask about you all the time.”

Ambiguous loss is a term that’s often heard among those whose loved ones live or lived with dementia and Alzheimer’s disease.

I frequently reflect on this term, journeying through these complex feelings even six years after she passed away. I see things like her framed cookie recipe on my kitchen wall, her writing desk that I inherited (and that she inherited from her grandmother), or hear shared memories from my family and I realize so much of her still is with me in the present, and what a gift that is.

My Grandma Pat would have been 92 years old last month. ❤️ Photos from my personal project “My memories ask about you all the time.”

Ambiguous loss is a term that’s often heard among those whose loved ones live or lived with dementia and Alzheimer’s disease.

I frequently reflect on this term, journeying through these complex feelings even six years after she passed away. I see things like her framed cookie recipe on my kitchen wall, her writing desk that I inherited (and that she inherited from her grandmother), or hear shared memories from my family and I realize so much of her still is with me in the present, and what a gift that is.

My Grandma Pat would have been 92 years old last month. ❤️ Photos from my personal project “My memories ask about you all the time.”

Ambiguous loss is a term that’s often heard among those whose loved ones live or lived with dementia and Alzheimer’s disease.

I frequently reflect on this term, journeying through these complex feelings even six years after she passed away. I see things like her framed cookie recipe on my kitchen wall, her writing desk that I inherited (and that she inherited from her grandmother), or hear shared memories from my family and I realize so much of her still is with me in the present, and what a gift that is.

My Grandma Pat would have been 92 years old last month. ❤️ Photos from my personal project “My memories ask about you all the time.”

Ambiguous loss is a term that’s often heard among those whose loved ones live or lived with dementia and Alzheimer’s disease.

I frequently reflect on this term, journeying through these complex feelings even six years after she passed away. I see things like her framed cookie recipe on my kitchen wall, her writing desk that I inherited (and that she inherited from her grandmother), or hear shared memories from my family and I realize so much of her still is with me in the present, and what a gift that is.