My Sweet Smut series is a way of not taking myself too serious. I think we tend to get in our own heads when we see our friends doing cool things in a way that I call “depressed inspired.” We get this burst of energy to become competitive and start a new project, stemming from a fear that we’ve already made our best work. I’ve definitely wondered if I’ve already shot my best work before, and that nothing will be as good again. But my friend Cait recently reminded me that it doesn’t matter whether someone else thinks my work is cool, but how it speaks to me. She said that everything I’ve done up until now is what makes me me.

It matters a lot to me that I feel a real connection to the models or subjects in my photographs. Many are friends, and I’ve photographed my younger brother, who is a bodybuilder. It’s more intentional that way and I’ll remember those moments stronger. 

Nudity and sexuality aren’t main parts of the work for me, but lie elsewhere in the background. More important is the bond between camera and subject. I’m not trying to get people off, even though there’s a time and place for that in other people’s work, and that’s fine. I’m also a vintage collector and dealer, so I focus on styling and art direction, knowing that will curate stronger work.

And these photos are also funny to me. I think it’s so funny when people refer to their work as “breathtaking portraits.” Like, that’s just such a weird thing to say. Sure, I have some of those, but I like to be lighthearted on the subject. And nudity isn’t so tasteless when you add some humor to it, but then the humor can’t be too tasteless. That’s why I admire artists like John Waters who straddle that line well. 

I like going outside of my comfort zone. I think that’s where my love for photography came from.

My older brother has a brain injury, and four days a week for four months, I would drive him to Kentucky and stay on an army base with him and take him to all of his rehabs and therapies. It was bleak and shitty and there was nothing to do. I was bored and couldn’t leave after 9pm while he slept. So I decided I would go drifting and start documenting this period of my life and my surroundings. And that’s when I first got into photography, when I picked up some Polaroid cameras in 2015 to take photos of this military base in Kentucky.

Even as I’ve developed my practice, I strictly shoot film. I value the gratification of developing film myself and having it in my hands to look at and feel. I’ll literally say goodbye to my model after a photoshoot and then run to the darkroom and have it developed and scanned within an hour. I like running through the process. 

Maybe I make it digital in a way because I get it digitized so quickly. I don’t even look at it on the light table. I just immediately start scanning. But why should I feel bad about that? 

And I’m also not one for editing the colors or cropping anything. I don’t think you need to know how to edit to be a photographer. The most I’ll do is adjust the warmth or give it a little crop, but only the bare minimum. That’s something I believe in. What does it say about a photographer who knows the potential of editing but then decides not to? Sure, I will, for my own sake, because we live in this era in which we should do those things. But at the same time, when I see a photo with good dust, I love it. I love dust. I love dust. Dust has a time and place. 

There are moments when I think, this is it. This is the feeling. And that always stems from the bond I share with my models. 

Photos where a mutual shared experience comes into play touch a chord for me. Like when I’m documenting a moment or phase in their life that I've recently gone through or am currently sharing with them. In a similar vein to street photography, it doesn’t matter how confident you are, but when you take photos of strangers, you feel scared. It’s different when you allow yourself to know them better.

And I want to represent the girl as well, like in her room and on her bed because I know from experience that it’s such a good sensation to feel empowered in your body like that. I began modeling for my friend Garland several years ago, and no other artist has made me feel that way. He taught me how to care about taking photos. I’ve never had so much fun or appreciated my body so much. Photoshoots like those can really affect you, and it affects how women see themselves. 

When my mom first saw those photos, she kind of paused and then looked at me and said, “You know, my one regret is not having any photos of me naked at that time in my life.” Just to hear my mom’s approval mattered so much. I don’t need anyone else’s opinion.