I am five feet tall, have lived in Seattle for decades without owning an umbrella, and photograph every face I find — in museums, on walls, carved into the ends of pews. These things are related.
The Wild Beneath Our Feet
A Thanksgiving Kinship Walk along Seattle’s shoreline becomes a meditation on land, history, wildness, and the guides who help us hear the city’s heartbeat.
The Puppet Who Lived Downstairs
I live in a high-rise soap opera with a rotating cast of eccentrics—and somehow, I’ve become the neighborhood’s unofficial archivist. Not with spreadsheets, but with felt.