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![A foggy morning along Sparks Lane in Cades Cove, Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where a tree-lined dirt road disappears into the fog—just ahead, the faint headlights of a car emerges, adding mystery to the serene, timeless scene.]()
"Sparks Lane 1"
Cades Cove, Great Smoky Mountains N.P., 2015Cades Cove is one of my favorite places to be—especially in that quiet stretch before sunrise, when the world feels like it’s holding its breath. On this particular morning, I stood alone on Sparks Lane, wrapped in a thick blanket of fog. The Smoky Mountains loomed just beyond sight, waiting to emerge with the rising light. It was silent, almost surreal, until a lone car slowly approached through the mist. I captured this image just before it reached me—drawn to the way the fog, the trees, and the winding road came together to create a moment that felt suspended in time. -
![A winding mountain road carves through the dense forested slopes of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, disappearing into the misty distance beneath dramatic clouds in this moody black and white landscape.]()
"Mountain Pass"
Great Smoky Mountains N.P., 2016
This image was made from an overlook on Newfound Gap Road, deep in the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains. What struck me most that day wasn’t just the sweeping layers of ridges or the storm clouds pressing in—it was that winding ribbon of road carving its way through the forest. It felt like a metaphor for so many of life’s journeys: full of twists, uncertain endings, and beauty at every turn. I chose black and white for this image to emphasize the mood—the sense of solitude, movement, and quiet perseverance that the landscape seemed to whisper.
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![Rolling ridges fade into the distance under brooding skies in this moody dusk panorama of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, where soft light and drifting clouds evoke a quiet, timeless atmosphere.]()
"Mountain Dusk"
Great Smoky Mountains N.P. 2015This image was made as the last light of day slipped behind the ridges of the Great Smoky Mountains. I had pulled off at an overlook, hoping for something subtle and quiet—and that’s exactly what unfolded. The soft gradient of tones in the sky, the silhouette of layered peaks fading into the distance, and the stillness of dusk all came together in a moment that felt like a whisper. It’s these in-between times—when the day exhales into night—that I often feel most connected to the landscape. This photograph is my attempt to hold onto that hush. -
![Low clouds of mist weave through the layered ridges of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, softening the rugged landscape. Silhouetted evergreens stand in quiet contrast as the filtered morning light creates a dreamlike, ethereal atmosphere.]()
"Misty Mountain Morning"
Great Smoky Mountains N.P., 2017I made this image on a quiet morning in the Great Smoky Mountains, just as the clouds began to lift and the ridges emerged one layer at a time. The mist moved like breath through the trees, softening everything it touched. There’s something deeply humbling about watching the mountains reveal themselves so slowly—like they’re deciding whether to let you in. I’ve always been drawn to these fleeting moments when the light, the weather, and the landscape come together in silence. This photograph is a reflection of that stillness and mystery. -
![A serpentine stretch of the Obed River winds through dense forest, partially veiled in low-hanging fog. The soft light and monochrome tones highlight the river’s reflective surface as it disappears into the fog-draped wilderness.]()
"Shrouded River"
Obed Wild & Scenic River, Wartburg, TN 2017I made this image early one morning overlooking the Obed River, just as the fog was beginning to lift. There was a quiet power in the way the river carved its path through the landscape—serpentine, patient, and steady. The mist drifted through the trees like a veil, softening the edges and revealing just enough. I was drawn to the contrast between motion and stillness, between what’s seen and what’s hidden. Standing there, I felt like I was witnessing a secret being kept and slowly, reverently, let go. -
![A lone tree stands in silhouette against a vast, sepia-toned sky at twilight, its branches reaching into the fading light above the dark horizon.]()
"Solitary Twilight 3"
West TN 2017
I came across this lone tree just as the last light of day was giving way to night, and even in black and white, the mood remained palpable. The sky, once washed in subtle color, now reads like a quiet hush—tones reduced to pure light and shadow. I was struck by how the composition simplified itself: a single tree, a dark horizon, and a sky that seemed to stretch endlessly. This image isn't about grandeur; it's about restraint, presence, and the pause that lives between day and night. It felt like a moment held in silence, and I wanted to honor that stillness.
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![A sepia-toned macro image of a dogwood blossom reveals the delicate textures of its petals and the intricate structure of its clustered center, capturing a quiet, intimate moment of natural beauty.]()
"Nina's Joy"
Nashville, TN 2014
This image is deeply personal for me. It's more than a close-up of a dogwood bloom—it’s a tribute to my grandmother, Nina. Each spring, her favorite dogwood tree would come to life, filling the yard with delicate petals and quiet joy. I remember how she’d pause just to take it in, as if the blossoms were speaking a language only she understood. This photograph is my way of preserving that feeling—of stillness, of beauty, of love quietly passed down through seasons and generations. Every soft curve and textured petal holds a memory of her grace.
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![A solitary streetlamp rises from floodwaters under a moody sky, its reflection rippling through the still surface—an eerie yet striking scene of nature reclaiming space.]()
"Flood Light"
Nashville, TN 2017
This photograph is part of my ongoing Reclaimed project, which explores the quiet ways nature takes back what we’ve built. I came across this scene after a heavy flood—an ordinary streetlight now stranded in the middle of rising water. The absurdity of it struck me at first, but then came the stillness. The pole stood like a relic, half-forgotten, its reflection trembling across the surface. It felt like a monument to human presence slowly being erased. For me, this image is about surrender—the subtle, patient way the land remembers itself, long after we’ve left our mark.
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![Dramatic clouds and soft reflections paint a moody pre-dawn seascape on Hilton Head Island, where the stillness of the shoreline meets the hushed rhythm of an awakening ocean.]()
"Sea of Tranquility"
Hilton Head Island, SC 2014
I made this image just before sunrise on the South Carolina coast, standing barefoot in the cool, wet sand as the tide slowly crept in. The horizon was barely beginning to glow, but the drama was already unfolding in the clouds—massive, sculptural forms rising from the sea like a distant, sleeping city. The stillness was complete, broken only by the soft hiss of the surf and the occasional gull overhead. For me, this photograph is about that rare quiet before the world wakes up—a moment suspended between darkness and day, when everything feels both ancient and new.
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![A dramatic black-and-white view of the historic Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, Tennessee, capturing its iconic gothic-style windows and the engraved “Union Gospel Tabernacle 1891” stone at its heart.]()
"Mother Church"
Nashville, 2016
I’ve always loved the way architecture can carry the weight of memory, and few places feel as storied as the Ryman Auditorium in Nashville. I made this image early one morning, drawn not just to the historic lines of the building, but to the quiet dignity it holds in the heart of the city. The Ryman has seen legends walk its stage and heard countless voices rise and echo in its walls. In this photograph, I wanted to reflect the soul of the place—not with fanfare, but with reverence. For me, it’s a portrait of heritage, faith, and the enduring power of place.
(This image is not for sale)
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![Sunlight bursts through the canopy at a resupply stop along the Appalachian Trail in Neel's Gap, Georgia, casting radiant beams through the morning mist and creating a serene, almost sacred forest scene.]()
"Divine Light"
Appalachian Trail, Neel Gap, GA 2017
I made this image on the Appalachian Trail at Neel Gap, Georgia, where the morning light broke through the trees in a way that felt almost sacred. As I stood beneath the canopy, beams of sunlight pierced the forest mist and fanned out like a quiet benediction. It stopped me in my tracks. There was something about the stillness, the solitude, and the way the light danced through the branches that felt deeply spiritual—like the forest was breathing, alive and aware. Moments like this are why I hike with a camera—to witness, and hopefully share, the quiet grace of the natural world.
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![Framed by ancient oaks and wrought iron, the iconic St. Louis Cathedral in New Orleans rises through the branches, its spires bathed in soft morning light, evoking the timeless soul of the French Quarter.]()
"Crescent City Sanctuary"
French Quarter, New Orleans, LA 2015While wandering through the French Quarter early one morning, I found myself drawn to this quiet view of St. Louis Cathedral, framed by the wrought iron fence and the overhanging canopy of oaks. Facing Jackson Square and flanked by the Cabildo and the Presbytere, the cathedral rises with a presence that feels both sacred and storied. Built originally in 1727 and later rebuilt after the great fire of 1794, the current structure was completed in the 1850s. As the oldest continuously active Roman Catholic cathedral in the United States, it holds centuries of New Orleans history within its walls. I wanted this image to reflect the reverence of that space—a quiet moment suspended between shadow and light, past and present. -
![A weary musician sits slumped in silence outside a shuttered storefront in the French Quarter of New Orleans. Resting on his instrument case, shoes and hat neatly placed beside him, as the weight of the day settles on his bowed shoulders.]()
"Respite in the Quarter"
French Quarter, New Orleans, LA 2015While walking through the French Quarter early one morning, I came across this musician asleep on the sidewalk, his shoes off, hat on the ground, and resting on his instrument case. He looked like he’d just wrapped up a long night of playing. I paused for a moment, curious about where he’d been and what he’d played, but it didn’t feel right to interrupt his rest. So I made this image instead—a quiet tribute to the soul of New Orleans and the artists who carry its rhythm. -
![A hauntingly beautiful dirt lane in Louisiana, framed by towering live oaks draped in Spanish moss, forms a natural tunnel bathed in warm, sepia-toned light, evoking echoes of the Old South and stories long past.]()
"Creole Whispers"
Louisiana, 2014I made this image along a quiet lane draped in Spanish moss on the grounds of a former plantation. The trees formed a tunnel so dense it felt like time slowed down. At the end of this path stand the original slave quarters—weathered structures that remain as silent witnesses to an unbearable history. I stood here for a while before raising the camera, aware that the beauty of the scene carried a weight far beyond the visual. This photograph is not just about the light or the symmetry—it's about presence, memory, and the stories that still echo through places like this. -
![A winding dirt road disappears beneath a dense canopy of ancient live oaks draped in Spanish moss on Edisto Island, South Carolina. The sepia tones and twisting branches evoke a timeless, almost mystical Southern atmosphere.]()
"Live Oaks of Edisto"
South Carolina 2016I made this image beneath a canopy of centuries-old live oaks on Edisto Island, where the limbs twist and arch like they’re reaching for stories long past. The air was heavy with humidity and quiet—no cars, no voices, just the creak of the branches and the hush of Spanish moss swaying in the breeze. These trees have seen generations come and go, and their forms reflect that weight of time. I was drawn to the way the road curves gently out of sight, framed by those massive trunks—it felt like stepping into another world. This photograph is about history, endurance, and the quiet strength of the southern landscape. -
![Beneath the steel arches of Chicago’s Loop, cars and blurred figures navigate the dimly lit underpass as sunlight slices through gaps above, casting geometric light onto the street in this moody monochrome urban scene.]()
"The Loop 2"
Chicago, IL, 2015Chicago’s Loop always draws me in. Beneath the iron tangle of the elevated tracks, I found this moment—a stretch of shadow and steel, pierced by patches of light and the blur of a passerby. I was drawn to the repetition of the columns, the textures of the rivets, and the layered rhythm of urban life moving through it all. This image captures what I love about photographing cities: the tension between structure and motion, permanence and passing.
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![A haunting glow illuminates the steel girders of a bridge in downtown Chicago’s Loop as ghostly figures blur across the walkway, capturing a fleeting moment of motion against the rigid geometry of the city’s industrial nighttime architecture.]()
"The Loop 8"
Chicago, IL, 2015Late at night in the Loop, the city feels different—quieter, more introspective. I made this image on one of the bridges that cross the river, drawn to the geometry of rivets and girders, the way the light carved shapes into the darkness. A faint trace of a passerby drifted into the frame, just enough to remind me that even in stillness, the city breathes. -
![A couple strolls arm in arm beneath the steel lattice of a Chicago Loop bridge, their figures framed by rhythmic shadows and geometric lines, as soft light and city texture evoke the quiet romance of an urban evening.]()
"The Loop 7"
Chicago, IL, 2015
This image is part of my ongoing exploration of Chicago’s Loop—where iron and concrete meet humanity in motion. I was drawn to the symmetry of the bridge’s repeating rivets and shadows, but it was the couple walking arm in arm that gave the frame its heartbeat. In a city defined by its scale and structure, it’s these quiet, fleeting human moments that hold everything together. The Loop may seem all steel and grit, but sometimes, if you’re paying attention, you catch something softer moving through it.
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![A lone fishing cabin clings to the edge of Lake Huron as waves crash beneath a brooding sky, the surrounding trees offering the only shelter from the approaching storm.]()
"Huron Mist"
Lake Huron, Michigan 2017I was driving the Lake Huron shoreline when I came across this house, tucked into the trees and jutting out over the water like it had nowhere else to go. The waves were already rising and the sky was heavy with the weight of a coming storm. It felt like the house was holding its breath—worn, weathered, and somehow still standing. I was struck by the quiet resilience of it all, the way it seemed both defiant and vulnerable at the same time. This image is about that edge—between land and water, calm and chaos, endurance and erosion. -
![An abandoned roadside diner in South Haven, Michigan, “The Legendary Ma's Coffee Pot” sits quietly among overgrown weeds and cracked pavement—its faded sign and vacant windows echoing the charm and nostalgia of a once-beloved local landmark.]()
"Once Legendary"
South Haven, MI 2017Say the name Ma’s Coffee Pot to someone who spent years behind the wheel of an eighteen-wheeler, and chances are, you’ll get a story—maybe about the best slice of pie they ever had, a hot cup of coffee on a cold night, or just a kind word during a long haul. For decades, this little stop in South Haven was a beacon for truckers and locals alike. Today, the windows are dark, and the weeds are taking over the lot, but the sign still stands, like an echo from the road. -
![An abandoned gas station in the Utah desert stands weathered and forgotten, its “OPEN—COME ON IN” sign fading into irony. Overgrown brush and cracked pavement encroach on the building, hinting at a bygone era of roadside stops and long stretches of isolat]()
"Last Stop"
Utah 2015Somewhere out in the Utah desert, I came across this abandoned gas station with its sun-bleached sign still calling out, OPEN — COME ON IN. The irony stopped me in my tracks. There's no fuel here, no snacks, no one behind the counter—just sagebrush reclaiming the gravel lot and silence where the hum of engines once echoed.This photograph is part of my Reclaimed series, a visual exploration of forgotten places and what they leave behind—faint traces of purpose, memory, and the passage of time written in dust and shadow.
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![Dramatic light and shadow carve out the towering spires of Fisher Towers near Moab, Utah, as storm clouds gather above the sculpted sandstone formations—ancient monuments standing watch over the desert.]()
"Fisher Towers"
Moab, Utah 2015
The first time I laid eyes on Fisher Towers, I was struck by how otherworldly they felt—like something from a dream carved into the desert. These formations have a raw, ancient presence that stops you in your tracks. I arrived just as the clouds were building, and the moody light played across the spires in a way that felt almost theatrical. I didn’t want to just document the scene—I wanted to translate the sense of reverence it stirred in me.
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![At sunrise in Canyonlands National Park, towering rock spires and mesas emerge as dark silhouettes against layered ridgelines and softly glowing skies, capturing the desert’s vast, timeless beauty in a moment of quiet majesty.]()
"Sunrise Silhouettes"
Canyonlands N.P., Utah, 2015
This morning in Canyonlands was one of those moments that sneaks up on you and stays. I got to the overlook well before dawn, bundled up against the chill, waiting in silence as the first light touched the rock. The silhouettes of the buttes and mesas slowly emerged from the shadows, layer by layer, like an ancient story being revealed. I didn’t rush to shoot—I just watched as the land breathed in the day. When I finally took the photo, it felt less like making an image and more like holding onto a memory that would otherwise slip away.
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![An early morning view from Canyonlands National Park reveals a labyrinth of shadowed mesas and deep canyons, with the winding Green River catching the first light beneath a brooding desert sky.]()
"Shadowed Canyon"
Canyonlands N.P., Utah, 2015
Canyonlands has a way of making you feel small in the best possible way. I stood at the overlook watching the last light fade, the deep canyons falling into shadow while the distant river caught one final glint of the day. It was quiet—almost reverent—and the vastness of the landscape felt like a living memory carved by time and water. I tried to capture that sense of weight and stillness in this frame: not just what I saw, but what I felt in that moment—solitude, wonder, and a deep respect for the ancient beauty of the land.
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![First light brushes the rippled desert sands and the towering spire of Totem Pole in Monument Valley, casting long shadows across the iconic landscape and awakening the silence of the Navajo Nation.]()
"Sunrise Totem"
Monument Valley, Utah 2015
This image was made just after sunrise on the same unforgettable morning that began in the dark, hiking through sand and brush in Navajo country—guided only by starlight, a local elder, and a warning to watch for rattlesnakes. When our guide suddenly stopped, raised his hand, and said simply, “Rattlesnake,” the weight of where we were—and who we were with—sank in deeply.
By the time we reached this viewpoint, the sun was just cresting the horizon. I stood in awe as soft light began to reveal the land’s contours: the rippled sand in the foreground, the brush just catching the light, and the towering spire rising like a sentinel in the stillness. I chose to render this scene in monochrome to emphasize the form, shadow, and reverence I felt standing there. It was a sacred moment—a quiet unfolding of light on ancient ground. This image, to me, is about resilience, presence, and the honor of being allowed to witness it.
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![An abandoned bus rests in the desert scrub near Monument Valley, Utah, its weathered frame and peeling paint echoing a bygone era, surrounded by barbed wire and sagebrush under the vast, open sky of the high desert.]()
"Forgotten Journey"
Utah 2015
I was winding through the backroads of Utah, somewhere between Monument Valley and Moab, when this old bus caught my eye—someone had painted it silver years ago—maybe to reflect the sun, maybe just to give it a second life. Now weathered and still, it looked like the shell of a story long forgotten. It sat in a field behind a tangle of fence posts and wild sage, quietly fading into the landscape. I made the first safe turn I could and doubled back, drawn in by the stillness of it all. I spent time with this image, considering the road it had traveled and how it ended up here.
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![A whimsical sculpture of garden tools rises from tall grass along the Greenway near Two Rivers Park in Nashville, silhouetted against a backdrop of dramatic summer clouds rolling across the sky.]()
"Tools in the Sky"
Nashville, TN 2014
While walking the greenway near Two Rivers Park in Nashville, I came across this striking sculpture—a tangle of old garden tools rising from the brush like a mechanical thicket. The silhouettes of shovels and rakes stood in stark contrast against a sky stacked high with summer clouds. It stopped me in my tracks. There was something poetic in the way these everyday objects—once useful, now welded into stillness—reached toward the heavens. I didn’t plan on taking a photo that day, but sometimes the most unexpected scenes ask to be noticed.
