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All of my artwork is primarily influenced by nature and environmentalism. Through my work, my main goal is to create elaborate, photorealistic images that carry a message of conservation and sustainability. I want to give viewers a space of contemplation by depicting beautifully idealized scenes of the natural world.

This piece was created as a diptych featuring a highly stylized and patterned vision of the jungle canopy, with tropical plants, hibiscus flowers, and red macaws. I wanted to create a beautiful and captivating image that would also draw attention to these quickly vanishing natural habitats.

To create this image I photographed all of the imagery at a few botanical gardens, horticultural centers, public parks, and aviaries. Then I use a complex process of digital imaging in Adobe Photoshop to composite the imagery together. The final image is actually made up of more than 50 photographs meticulously pieced together. This process required a lot of effort building up the final seamless image, figuring out the lighting, shadows, color, and other effects to make it look realistic. Each image is carefully planned out and created as an intricately layered construction, which gives it such a hyper-real, illustrative quality.

"Canopy" has been featured in Vogue, Create Magazine, AIGA, and was a winner in the 'collage' category for the International Photography Awards.

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No city on earth greets the new year as vibrantly as New York does. And no location in New York does so in more iconic fashion than Times Square. However, the rampant commercialization of the occasion imprints a decidedly sour taste to many photos that attempt to capture the celebration. So, I decided to create a VAST photo of the festivities free from any advertisements by finding a never-before-used vantage point.

After much research and scouting, I discovered the perfect location: the rooftop of an office tower in Hudson Square with an unobstructed view directly up 7th Avenue into the heart of Times Square. Given its position in southwestern Manhattan, this location also provided a first-rate view north across the rooftops of many famous New York neighborhoods such as the West Village, Chelsea, Gramercy, and the Flatiron District. Most importantly, however, was that this location offered a view into Times Square that obscured all of the gaudy, materialistic billboards.

New York City's skyline captures light in many unique ways over the course of a day. The luminance of the sun, the evening windows, and the night street lights all contribute to the city's ever-changing character. However, one area of the city that remains perfectly consistent in its brightness at all times of the day and night is Times Square. Because of this, I thought it would be fascinating to create a set of photos of this scene over the course of a few hours surrounding sunset.

On the afternoon of New Years Eve, my assistant and I began setting up our equipment on the empty rooftop. The streets beneath us buzzed with the kind of energy that New York buzzes with on holidays. In the distance, the crowds of revelers already filled Times Square.

The sun dipped low on the horizon and we began shooting the first of the VAST photos that comprise this series (and its black & white companion photo) as the city and sky alit with a with a beautiful warm pink hue. Shortly thereafter, with the sun significantly beneath the horizon, we created the second VAST photo at the time of evening when the brightness of the sky and the city are in perfect balance. Finally, after the last remnants of the sunlight disappeared, we created the third VAST photo of the skyline powered entirely by its own light.

Throughout all of this, surrounded by New Years Eve celebrations, we could feel the energy emanating from Times Square, as if it was an engine that powered everything around us. Our aim was to capture that energy in these VAST photos, conveying the character of New York City at the turn of a year.

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No city on earth greets the new year as vibrantly as New York does. And no location in New York does so in more iconic fashion than Times Square. However, the rampant commercialization of the occasion imprints a decidedly sour taste to many photos that attempt to capture the celebration. So, I decided to create a VAST photo of the festivities free from any advertisements by finding a never-before-used vantage point.

After much research and scouting, I discovered the perfect location: the rooftop of an office tower in Hudson Square with an unobstructed view directly up 7th Avenue into the heart of Times Square. Given its position in southwestern Manhattan, this location also provided a first-rate view north across the rooftops of many famous New York neighborhoods such as the West Village, Chelsea, Gramercy, and the Flatiron District. Most importantly, however, was that this location offered a view into Times Square that obscured all of the gaudy, materialistic billboards.

New York City's skyline captures light in many unique ways over the course of a day. The luminance of the sun, the evening windows, and the night street lights all contribute to the city's ever-changing character. However, one area of the city that remains perfectly consistent in its brightness at all times of the day and night is Times Square. Because of this, I thought it would be fascinating to create a set of photos of this scene over the course of a few hours surrounding sunset.

On the afternoon of New Years Eve, my assistant and I began setting up our equipment on the empty rooftop. The streets beneath us buzzed with the kind of energy that New York buzzes with on holidays. In the distance, the crowds of revelers already filled Times Square.

The sun dipped low on the horizon and we began shooting the first of the VAST photos that comprise this series (and its black & white companion photo) as the city and sky alit with a with a beautiful warm pink hue. Shortly thereafter, with the sun significantly beneath the horizon, we created the second VAST photo at the time of evening when the brightness of the sky and the city are in perfect balance. Finally, after the last remnants of the sunlight disappeared, we created the third VAST photo of the skyline powered entirely by its own light.

Throughout all of this, surrounded by New Years Eve celebrations, we could feel the energy emanating from Times Square, as if it was an engine that powered everything around us. Our aim was to capture that energy in these VAST photos, conveying the character of New York City at the turn of a year.

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I woke up before dawn from another frigid night of restless sleep. Despite wearing every piece of clothing I brought with me (inside of my sleeping bag), the ultralight tarp shelter and sleep system I packed for our 10-day ski traverse through the southern end of the East Sierra was only barely cutting it. This final night’s camp at almost 13,000’ of elevation on the shores of the frozen Tulainyo Lake was perhaps the coldest of them all. I couldn’t wait to get moving and crest the high pass between Mounts Russell and Carillon, where the sun hard out of the east would erase the short term memories of the long, chill night.

From the broad bench below the Russell-Carillon Pass, Mount Whitney, the tallest mountain in the lower 48, stands tall in all it’s granitic glory, flanked on its south by a proud line of lieutenants from Keeler Needle to Mount Muir. From our high perch, we watched a line of climbers move with ant-like resolve up the iconic Mountaineer’s Route, eventually appearing as tiny specs atop the highest point in the range, and far beyond.

Captured in late April during a record season of snowfall in the Sierra Nevada, the mountain was still the domain of skiers and snow-climbers. Later in the season, another breed of climber will arrive, scaling the immaculate east-facing granite spires of the Whitney massif in what is truly one of the world’s great alpine playgrounds.

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I woke up before dawn from another frigid night of restless sleep. Despite wearing every piece of clothing I brought with me (inside of my sleeping bag), the ultralight tarp shelter and sleep system I packed for our 10-day ski traverse through the southern end of the East Sierra was only barely cutting it. This final night’s camp at almost 13,000’ of elevation on the shores of the frozen Tulainyo Lake was perhaps the coldest of them all. I couldn’t wait to get moving and crest the high pass between Mounts Russell and Carillon, where the sun hard out of the east would erase the short term memories of the long, chill night.

From the broad bench below the Russell-Carillon Pass, Mount Whitney, the tallest mountain in the lower 48, stands tall in all it’s granitic glory, flanked on its south by a proud line of lieutenants from Keeler Needle to Mount Muir. From our high perch, we watched a line of climbers move with ant-like resolve up the iconic Mountaineer’s Route, eventually appearing as tiny specs atop the highest point in the range, and far beyond.

Captured in late April during a record season of snowfall in the Sierra Nevada, the mountain was still the domain of skiers and snow-climbers. Later in the season, another breed of climber will arrive, scaling the immaculate east-facing granite spires of the Whitney massif in what is truly one of the world’s great alpine playgrounds.

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I woke up before dawn from another frigid night of restless sleep. Despite wearing every piece of clothing I brought with me (inside of my sleeping bag), the ultralight tarp shelter and sleep system I packed for our 10-day ski traverse through the southern end of the East Sierra was only barely cutting it. This final night’s camp at almost 13,000’ of elevation on the shores of the frozen Tulainyo Lake was perhaps the coldest of them all. I couldn’t wait to get moving and crest the high pass between Mounts Russell and Carillon, where the sun hard out of the east would erase the short term memories of the long, chill night.

From the broad bench below the Russell-Carillon Pass, Mount Whitney, the tallest mountain in the lower 48, stands tall in all it’s granitic glory, flanked on its south by a proud line of lieutenants from Keeler Needle to Mount Muir. From our high perch, we watched a line of climbers move with ant-like resolve up the iconic Mountaineer’s Route, eventually appearing as tiny specs atop the highest point in the range, and far beyond.

Captured in late April during a record season of snowfall in the Sierra Nevada, the mountain was still the domain of skiers and snow-climbers. Later in the season, another breed of climber will arrive, scaling the immaculate east-facing granite spires of the Whitney massif in what is truly one of the world’s great alpine playgrounds.

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Each day, for 10 days straight, we traveled on skis up and over endless high mountain passes as we worked our way south through the eastern Sierra Range. Each night, we dropped our packs and built camp. Most camps included digging a 6’x6’ hole in the snow, over which we would pitch a simple tarp shelter, sleeping with our pads directly on the snow.

On two fortunate occasions, we happened upon islands of dry land in the sea of endless snow, where we were able to spread out our gear to dry, and enjoy the comfort of sleeping on a surface which was neither particularly cold or damp.

While the days were hot, as the bright white snow reflected the Southern California sun to warm us from both above and below, the nights were clear and sharply cold. As such, we stayed out only long enough to watch the sun drop behind the peaks before retreating to the relative warmth of our shelter and sleeping bags. Brief but sublime were these moments between the heat of day and cold of night.

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South of Snoqualmie Pass, the Cascade mountains roll in modest layers of timbered hills, punctuated acutely by the volcanoes that define the south Cascades. But north of the pass, an entirely different landscape takes shape, as jagged peaks pierce the skyline with almost surreal steepness, and continue in this way far beyond the Canadian border to the north.

Chair Peak and Kaleetan Peak, two of the sentinels of this transition zone are within a day of backcountry skiing from Snoqualmie Pass. When storms break, and avalanche danger subsides, these spectacular peaks offer steep and wild skiing on their flanks, or scenic touring on the snowy slopes and lakes below.

A close examination reveals tiny skiers crossing the frozen expanse of Snow Lake, while angular climbing tracks and swooping ski tracks tell stories of ski descents ranging from the pedestrian to the cutting-edge.

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Snoqualmie Pass is the lowest of the major mountain passes crossing the Washington Cascades, yet rising from the modest elevation of the pass are an assortment of jagged, complex peaks, holding endless challenges for the enterprising climber or skier. During much of the prevailing weather of winter, low-lying clouds will slither back and forth across the mountains at pass level, while the peaks above will be found bathed in sun, and perhaps awash with wind, as they were on this cold morning in early January.

While some of the mountains in this image require multiple days to visit, others, such as Bryant Peak, the location of this vista, are feasible as a ‘dawn patrol’ outing. For the uninitiated, this is a practice wherein one can start out from the parking lot under the light of headlamps, break out of the fog with the sunrise, and be on a summit well in time for a quick ski back down, and an arrival at the office well before lunch (and hopefully before the boss takes notice.)

These mornings are invariably uncomfortable in the hard, cold dark of predawn, but ratchet up toward ecstasy as the morning coffee break is replaced by something far more meaningful, and every bit as energizing.

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For every busy summit in the popular Cascade Mountain Range of Washington State, there are 10 more where solitude is virtually guaranteed. Big Snow Mountain, at the northern edge of the Snoqualmie mountains is one such place. With no official trail, and road closures making even the most convenient approach anything but, this summit is hard earned, but comes with a serious dose of wilderness experience.

By late summer, the snows have mostly disappeared, the bugs have mostly called it a season, but the forest fires in the western United States and Canada still spread a heavy haze across the Pacific Northwest. While this phenomenon can hamper the views during the full light of day, when the sun reaches the western horizon, a spectacular show of soft, gauzy beams of light set off the topography as layer after layer of peaks are set in relief from the backlit haze, while the pastel hues of evening are enhanced by the infinite refractions from the airborne particulate.

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The Library of Congress of the United States in downtown Washington, D.C. is the largest library in the world. It provides access to millions of books, audio & video recordings, photos, newspapers, maps, and manuscripts. Home of the U.S. Copyright Office, it is the research library of the U.S. Congress and of anyone who gets a free library card. The Library of Congress physically occupies three buildings on Capitol Hill: The John Adams Building, James Madison Building, and the original Thomas Jefferson Building. Across the street from the Supreme Court of the United States and the U.S. Capitol Building, the Thomas Jefferson Building of the LOC was completed in 1897.

The opulent building of Italian Renaissance style architecture is functional as well as being a national Temple of the Arts. Jefferson’s beliefs in the direct link between knowledge and democracy led to the comprehensive collecting policies of today’s Library of Congress. The elaborately decorated structure was built from fifteen varieties of marble, four hundred thousand cubic feet of granite, bronze, gold, and mahogany and employed more than forty American artists and sculptors to carry out the monumental design. It underwent restoration in the late 1980s. It’s hard not to be impressed walking around the Great Hall. The Roman Goddess Minerva, the guardian of civilization, is portrayed in the arched mosaic climbing the stairs leading to a spectacular view of the Main Reading Room. My son shared with me of a fun fact he learned from his school field trip: Minerva’s feet appear to be pointed in your direction as you both climb the stairs on the right and descend on the left. After seeing it for myself, the impressive optical illusion definitely left me scratching my head.

The intricate details of the work of the artisans who built this monument is nothing short of breathtaking. I wanted to capture this room in its entirety. With a panoramic stitch, there are no limits in perspective so it’s easy to get carried away in composing the photo. I ended up shooting photos of the entire room from that perspective on the second floor: from the immediate columns on either side, to the ground floor below, and stunning ceiling above. The end-result will eventually be a spherical panorama or “little planet”. While I am fascinated with surreal photography, I wanted to also capture a less eye-bending image of the LOC Great Hall and showcase the artisans’ precision in this more traditional composition.

While the photo makes it seem like I had the place to myself, it’s a popular tourist destination in Washington, D.C. Like other iconic DC monuments, there were a lot of people. For over an hour and a half I took my composite photos, having to pan to different spots where there were no people. Similar to the method I used in my DC Cherry Blossoms in peak bloom photo, in the busier areas I shot many images from a single position. I manually blended the sections of each photo with no people to get my final composite images for the panoramic stitch. I also bracketed the exposures because the camera doesn’t have the dynamic range of the human eye to balance the dark shadow areas as well as the bright windows, illuminated columns, and arches above. In total, it took nearly 500 exposures to make the 40 composite images that made this VAST Photo.

This ultra high-resolution photo allows for making extremely large fine art prints and produces a hyper-realistic look unlike that of traditional fine art photography. It provides the viewer unrestricted access to the most intricate details of the scene. On a personal level, this is one photo I’d love to print as a large mural so I could take the time to examine it up close and see the different elements that are easily missed when visiting, like the owl nearly hidden in plain sight. Can you find it?

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