rose bowl flea market.

A few weeks ago, my friend Ashley invited me to accompany her to a flea market up in Pasadena that she'd heard about. Unbeknownst to me, the Rose Bowl Flea Market, which happens once a month, is one of the most famous flea markets in the country. Despite the unusually high humidity (for southern California) and the 99-degree heat radiating off of the black asphalt, spending the day walking around the flea market was well worth the drive up. Almost every kind of obscure treasure and trinket you could think of can be found among the vast spread of tables, blankets and tents throughout the sprawling parking lot of the Rose Bowl Stadium. It also shouldn't come to anyone's surprise that the people around the market were just as interesting as the objects they were selling and buying. We spent the majority of our time picking around the odds and ends in the Antiques and Vintage section of the market, which stretched so far that we never even made it to every booth.

Being on a strict budget, I went to the market mostly as moral support and to take photos, so I forced myself to resist even the most tempting of deals, save for one item I just couldn't go home without. Buried beneath a pile of old books and photos, I found a hand-carved wooden photo album titled "Our Baby" bound with leather ties. Intrigued, I carefully dug it out and opened it. A name had been carved Inside the front cover of the book and carved in the back, the date April 11, 1940. Only three pages of photos and handwritten captions were among the thick stack of homemade paper bound between the wood. I have this thing for old photo albums, abandoned shortly after being started. For five dollars, I couldn't bear the thought of leaving this treasure behind, and eagerly paid for it to be mine.

I'm still quite pleased with my one purchase of the day, and even more pleased with the prospect of going back in a month or two. As is usually the case after a day like this, I only wish I'd taken more photos.

on a rooftop in brooklyn.

I was thinking about Brooklyn tonight. Not so much the place, but the experience of it. My trip up there in September included visits with a number of old friends, the most significant of which is my friend Kevin from high school. It had been years since we'd seen eachother, but as always, it was like we'd never spent a day apart. Two of the three people pictured in the photograph are friends of his (the third…on the left, is Kevin). One, I've known for years as well, having met him during Kevin's freshmen year at Columbia during my first visit to New York City, and the other, I'd just met. The thing that I will always adore about this particular group of friends is the immediate intimacy established as soon as you're introduced to the group. Whether an old friend or new acquaintance…you're family. I don't know why I'm reminiscing quite as much as I am about them right now. Maybe it's seeing this photo and remembering the sticky hot day in Brooklyn, sitting on the roof of their old house, sandwiched between high-rise condos. Maybe it's because I've been missing them lately. Or maybe it's just a random unearthing of the fondness I have towards this group of people. Regardless, I love this photo. Especially how you can just feel the intimacy and love in this moment between the three of them.

portrait of tijuana.

I was lucky enough to go down to Tijuana for Thanksgiving and work with and photograph Spectrum Ministries. Even more wonderful was that I was able to write an article and post a photo gallery from the day via my new job at The Patch.

Here's the article:

And here's the photo gallery:

I couldn't be more excited to be following my dream and finally working as a photojournalist again. The best part about it is that The Patch not only assigns me stories to write and photograph, but allows me to seek out my own. That's why I got to combine all of my loves yesterday. Ministry and photojournalism. I couldn't have asked for a better Thanksgiving.

Along with taking photos of the events of the day, I shot dozens of portraits of the neighborhood residents where we were working. By the end of the day, I had groups coming up to me tugging at my sleeve and camera strap, asking for their photos to be taken.

This is one of my favorite portraits of the day.