About The Journal

I have a modest love for photojournalistic photography.

Problem is, I've got a greater love for my family. Photojournalists are forced to choose between two. It's black and white: career versus family.

I may not be able to have my cake AND eat it, but nothing's going to stop me from swiping a lick of frosting, and thats what this website does for me.

I also see my work on this website as a gift back to everyone who is fighting, or has fought for Flint.

Growing Up In Flint

I was raised in a single parent home near Franklin and Leith in Flint, Michigan. We didn't have much; mom made sure we never missed a meal or went without proper needs, and she dished out plenty of love.

I am thankful for my fathers effort, for coming around 4-5 times a year. Over the years I've let go of the bitterness. I truly believe that he gave it all he could, in light of his alcohol addiction.

I have a thousand memories of my mother and I out at Zimmerman Beach, basking in the sun. I have a thousand more memories of riding bikes, and toying with Legos, GI Joe's, and playing hysterical late-night games of Monopoly with my best friend who lived just three houses down.

Then there's that time when someone tried to pry open our front door at 6am while we were home. And that other time when some random kid punched me in the gut, inturrupting my water rocket session in the feild across from my house.

Living in Flint has taught me that cities do not have agendas. Cities are not trying to jack my bike a gunpoint. Cities are not trying to kick in my back door.

I've learned that these "bitter occurances" are merely human, and they are evident everywhere humans are found.

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