How this started
Our Story
I served in the United States Army.
When I came home I thought I would slide back into ordinary life. I did not. Coming home is its own kind of work, and nobody hands you the instructions.
What helped was not a big fix. It was small things at the end of the day, in a bathroom with the door shut. A bath. A candle lit while it filled. Something to burn and something to smell while the water ran. Twenty minutes where nothing was asked of me.
The other part was the walls. When I traveled, and when I was walking in the city where I live, I photographed street art. Not the famous murals. The ones painted on the side of a laundromat, or the back of a shop, or a wall on a street I had no reason to be on. Almost all of it was about women. Strength, love, joy, being seen, starting over. Women painting each other into the walls where they had been left out.
I started stopping for them. I would cross the street to photograph a sentence somebody had sprayed at eye level, then write it down in my phone. What those walls kept telling me was the thing I could not say to myself out loud. You are worth taking care of. That is not a soft idea. For me it was the hardest one.
So the cities are the thread.
Every photograph on this site is mine.
I named it Salt & Streetlight because that is what the two halves are. Salt is the sea. The streetlight is the wall, the paint, the night city, the small light that stays on so you can find your way home.
I am not selling you calm. I am handing you twenty minutes. Take the bath. Light the thing. Leave the phone in the other room. You are worth caring for, and I will keep saying it until you believe it too.
Be told when there is something.
If any of this sounds like a night you have had, leave your address. Nothing is for sale yet, and I will write once, when there is something.
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