Photographer, based in New Orleans. Lover of tacos, pirogues and awkward conversations about masculinity. Friends call me Road Biscuit.
Home less than than 36 hours but I managed to unpack, catch dinner, vote, clean clothes and pack again, and avoid all emails. #castingballotsandbait #dadjokes #procrastifishing #pirogue #sportsmansparadise GalleryHome less than than 36 hours but I managed to unpack, catch dinner, vote, clean clothes and pack again, and avoid all emails. #castingballotsandbait #dadjokes #procrastifishing #pirogue #sportsmansparadise
Four days in Mexico City and not a single taco pic, but don’t you worry: I’m headed back to California this week for olive harvest, and will send updates from my favorite spots. #tacotravels #lifebetweentacos #enzooliveoil #harvest #modernfarmer GalleryFour days in Mexico City and not a single taco pic, but don’t you worry: I’m headed back to California this week for olive harvest, and will send updates from my favorite spots. #tacotravels #lifebetweentacos #enzooliveoil #harvest #modernfarmer
Mike, one of the long-standing club members, poses for a quick photo with the 10-point he shot just before sundown yesterday. I don’t know how the tradition started—my guess is that it’s been going as long as we’ve had access to cameras—but many of the deer killed here are recorded this way, especially the rare ones. It’d be easy to assume the motive is pride, and maybe that’s always there, but the tradition is also interwoven into the fabric of the relationships here. #sawbriar #gonehuntin #modernhuntsman #postingthisfromthedeerstand GalleryMike, one of the long-standing club members, poses for a quick photo with the 10-point he shot just before sundown yesterday. I don’t know how the tradition started—my guess is that it’s been going as long as we’ve had access to cameras—but many of the deer killed here are recorded this way, especially the rare ones. It’d be easy to assume the motive is pride, and maybe that’s always there, but the tradition is also interwoven into the fabric of the relationships here. #sawbriar #gonehuntin #modernhuntsman #postingthisfromthedeerstand
Hunting trip is going great but instead of showing you a pic of my deer here’s a crazy/cool rice field I passed on the way up to camp yesterday. #woven #wovenwednesday #scenesofthesouth #everydayruralamerica #modernfarmer GalleryHunting trip is going great but instead of showing you a pic of my deer here’s a crazy/cool rice field I passed on the way up to camp yesterday. #woven #wovenwednesday #scenesofthesouth #everydayruralamerica #modernfarmer
Gone huntin’. Heading back in to the woods this week with my dad for the opening of deer season in northern Louisiana. #modernhuntsman #familytime #alotofstaringattrees GalleryGone huntin’. Heading back in to the woods this week with my dad for the opening of deer season in northern Louisiana. #modernhuntsman #familytime #alotofstaringattrees
These last few months have been a blur, but they’ve left me with memories of so many great adventures—among those, the seventh gathering of @eatretreat, which brings together people from across the country and from throughout the food industry. Each year’s mix of attendees is special, but this year…this year everyone was just so damn excited to come together, to share their labor, and knowledge, and meal after incredible meal. Even better than the retreat is the continued friendships and collaborations (and meals). Miss y’all! #eatretreat #tbt GalleryThese last few months have been a blur, but they’ve left me with memories of so many great adventures—among those, the seventh gathering of @eatretreat, which brings together people from across the country and from throughout the food industry. Each year’s mix of attendees is special, but this year…this year everyone was just so damn excited to come together, to share their labor, and knowledge, and meal after incredible meal. Even better than the retreat is the continued friendships and collaborations (and meals). Miss y’all! #eatretreat #tbt
Louisiana pine. Forestry is a $13B industry here, making up 47% of the state’s agricultural commodities and employing more than 50,000 people. #woven #wovenwednesday GalleryLouisiana pine. Forestry is a $13B industry here, making up 47% of the state’s agricultural commodities and employing more than 50,000 people. #woven #wovenwednesday
Since middle school, I’ve associated vascularity with strength. Every action hero and athlete I grew up watching had pronounced, textured arms and hands, but I just had a lot of chub, and I connected that directly to my lack of strength. When I hit a growth spurt and started working out in high school, I measured success based less on muscle and size, and more on the lines I could trace with my fingers. Last year, the evening after my first chemo infusion, I went for a run. I thought I could bulldoze my way through treatment, and wanted to keep my regimen up for strength (and sanity). For a brief moment, I felt close to invincible, and as a mix of chemicals pulsed through swollen veins, I took a photo. Just a few weeks later, any prominent lines running down my forearm would fade from sight, sclerosed and hardened like steel cables under my skin, constricting tighter as the temperature dropped. No one warned me about that, but my docs weren’t surprised when I reported it. These memories still come flooding back every few months, as I offer the top of my hand for a blood draw, or for the IV contrast used to scan the depths of my abdomen and chest. It’s mostly an annoying pain, yet a consistent reminder of how a treatment like chemo can alter the body indefinitely. We have no choice but to trust that it’s doing far more good than bad. Tiny veins have started to grow in over the last several months; I can’t feel them, but I can see them in the palest stretches of skin. I’m grateful for this resurgence of life, but my body still feels unfamiliar at times, and that’s a difficult thing to process, let alone try and describe. I try to be accepting of myself, but grace is so much easier to offer to others. #wordsweuse #cancerseason GallerySince middle school, I’ve associated vascularity with strength. Every action hero and athlete I grew up watching had pronounced, textured arms and hands, but I just had a lot of chub, and I connected that directly to my lack of strength. When I hit a growth spurt and started working out in high school, I measured success based less on muscle and size, and more on the lines I could trace with my fingers. Last year, the evening after my first chemo infusion, I went for a run. I thought I could bulldoze my way through treatment, and wanted to keep my regimen up for strength (and sanity). For a brief moment, I felt close to invincible, and as a mix of chemicals pulsed through swollen veins, I took a photo. Just a few weeks later, any prominent lines running down my forearm would fade from sight, sclerosed and hardened like steel cables under my skin, constricting tighter as the temperature dropped. No one warned me about that, but my docs weren’t surprised when I reported it. These memories still come flooding back every few months, as I offer the top of my hand for a blood draw, or for the IV contrast used to scan the depths of my abdomen and chest. It’s mostly an annoying pain, yet a consistent reminder of how a treatment like chemo can alter the body indefinitely. We have no choice but to trust that it’s doing far more good than bad. Tiny veins have started to grow in over the last several months; I can’t feel them, but I can see them in the palest stretches of skin. I’m grateful for this resurgence of life, but my body still feels unfamiliar at times, and that’s a difficult thing to process, let alone try and describe. I try to be accepting of myself, but grace is so much easier to offer to others. #wordsweuse #cancerseason
