Awesome news!!!  My glitch art photography is going to be featured at an art show this coming weekend.  It's the Pancakes and Booze Art Show, Friday, April 25th at Quixotic World down in Deep Ellum.  That's Dallas, TX for those who don't know.  I'll be there all night, 8pm to 1am, so stop by and say hello if you're going to be around.  Get some free pancakes. :)

Fine Art America

Hey interwebs.  I've begun selling some of my prints through Fine Art America.  The first upload to their website is a portrait of yours truly taken back in 2012.  All the major turning points in my life have involved an incredible road trip.  This photo was taken in Northern California just past Mendocino on the coast.  God, I love that place.

Art Prints

Flash Fiction

Danger in the Eye

July - 1922

Somewhere in Appalachia…

Clark’s legs screamed as he ducked around willows and dove over briar.  In retrospect, the quick romp in the hay with the farmer’s daughter probably wasn’t the best decision he’s ever made.  Especially since Clark now found himself on the hunted end of a family of heavily armed hillbillies.  Who would’ve expected they believed so heavily in commitment? - Not Clark, that’s for sure.  He reminded himself to note that in his travel journal should he make it out of this one alive.  

Clark didn’t fear death.  He was disgusted by it.  Death seemed so dull; so monotonous; so god-awfully boring.  Not that he believed in heaven or hell, but he certainly hoped that should he find himself in one or the other it’d be the latter.  The prospect of eternal bliss in heaven struck him as rather bland.  Lucifer at least seemed like a man with a taste for adventure.  Besides, being turned into a pincushion for sixteen rounds of steaming hot buckshot came across as… vulgar.  Clark hadn’t even yet set foot on the planet Mars.  Surely death would have the decency to wait for such an achievement.  

Regardless, he wasn’t concerned though.  Clark had found his way out of more difficult situations.  Or, to put it more accurately, Clark’s compass had found a way out.  Gifted to him by his grandfather, and his grandfather’s father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, ad nauseam, the compass had the nasty habit of bringing Clark into situations where being dead was the likeliest of outcomes.  You see, the compass didn’t point north; no, far from it.  It pointed towards adventure.  

The compass had taken Clark from the steppes of Siberia to the jungles of the Amazon.  He faced cannibal pygmies in the Australian outback and pygmy cannibals in the outback of Australia.  Lawrence of Arabia was late to the surrender of Damascus because he, along with Clark and war correspondent Lowell Thomas, found themselves in a coffee house brawl in Jerusalem with six Turks and twenty-two French legionnaires.  You won’t read about that one in the history books.  As a child Clark had supplied Teddy Roosevelt with water as he and his men took San Juan and Kettle hill and had it not been for Clark, they never would have been able to cap the gusher at Spindletop.  All this from the compass that now found itself lodged in the gullet of six-hundred pound wild hog.

Clark wasn’t sure how long he’d been running for but his legs felt like hot buttered sourdough slathered in orange marmalade.  He’d certainly need a drink after this one.  The frequent explosion of branches indicated the hillbillies were closing and closing fast.  He could see (and smell) the hog just on the other side of a steep gully but without any easy way to cross it, Clark would have settle on survival being his main focus for the present moment.  Just then, Clark got the stroke of luck he had been hoping for.

A blast from one of the hillbilly’s rifles grazed Clark’s left ear and struck a young sapling growing in front of him.  The sapling had been partially supporting the remains of a decomposing oak, long-since felled by a lightning-strike.  With its support gone, the last bit of trunk cracked and gave way, falling across the gully and crushing the back half of the wild hog and forcing the compass up and out of its throat in a sort of macabre version of the Heimlich maneuver.  In a move fit for the summer Olympics, Clark jumped up and out over the gully, catching the compass in mid-air before flipping into a swan dive into the river below.  Clark swam under the cover of water until his lungs screamed as loudly as his legs, surfacing just as the river swelled into rapids followed by a small waterfall.  The hillbillies launched one last desperate volley of gunfire attempting to inflict as much pain and injury upon Clark but by then, the river had already carried him past the range of their horribly inaccurate firearms. 

Using his leather rucksack as a makeshift life-preserver, Clark kissed the compass and fired back, not with a gun, but with the bird, stretching out both middle fingers in an act of flippant defiance as he floated downriver, away from one adventure and towards the next.  Always allowing his compass to lead the way.


Tequila Mockingbird

I was out at Lake Lavon a couple weeks ago with a local burlesque dancer, Tequila Mockingbird.  She was an absolute blast to work with.  Nailed all of her looks; responded really well to direction; and was an absolute trooper with the weather.  You can't tell but the temperature dropped to the low 50s about halfway through the shoot.  With the wind gusting at to 30mph it wasn't the most pleasant conditions for a model in corset and sheer leggings.  Tequila didn't complain once, though.  Seriously, she stuck with it till we lost the light.

It really reinforces how important prepping is.  Not just checking the equipment and making sure everything is working properly (which is incredibly important, obviously), but taking the time to visit a location several times before a shoot so you're not wandering around looking for something interesting while your model is shivering to death.  I've been out to Lake Lavon for about seven or eight shoots at this point and I'm still discovering new spots; new angles; new areas to explore.  I couldn't imagine being out there for the first time trying to engage with my model, direct her through a shoot, and find locations that are not only going to be flattering, but also reflect the right mood and atmosphere of the project.  

Unless the purpose of my shoot is to show up to a location fresh, unfamiliar, and unexposed to it, I prefer going out a week or two ahead of time and spending the day on-site with me, myself, and my camera.  No pressure.  No expectations.  Just an intimate opportunity to explore a new part of the world.


American Spirit

All this sabre-rattling over the crisis in Ukraine reminds me of a photoshoot I did last month with my brother.  Look, I'm not saying Russia's right (they're NOT); I'm saying that so long as we have these massive military budgets and massive military infrastructure and hardware, people are going to want to use them and at what cost?  

Sure, human beings having been fighting one another for all of recorded history.  Sure, the US has been in many conflicts started because of aggression on the part of other countries.  Sure, we're not likely to see global disarmament for a long time.  But why not?  Where's the imagination?  When did we stop dreaming about utopia?  Call me delusional; call me naïve; but don't call me an idealist because we should ALL be idealists.  I think the biggest crisis facing the United States and the world at large is that we've stopped dreaming.  We've stopped hoping.  We've stopped believing that anything is possible.  We settle for mediocrity and say that anyone with a vision for a better future in which all people have an equal-opportunity to peace, love, and happiness is living in a fantasy world.  


So be it.  

Fantasy world it is then.  Whatever the mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve.  That's the funny thing about "realists" vs "idealists." They're no different from one another except that "idealists" are more imaginative in their vision for the future.  They're more creative; more willing to use ingenuity and to think outside the box.  On December 17, 1903 the Wright Brothers achieved the first controlled, powered, and sustained human flight.  On December 16th do you think they were realists or idealists?

  • “If we worked on the assumption that what is accepted as true really is true, then there would be little hope for advance.”

    - Orville Wright

Keep dreaming, world.  I'll see you on the other side.

Armory Week - New York City

Hey Glitch fans!

Wanted to let you guys know that I'll be featured at an exhibition in the See.Me gallery in New York City.  I shared the details below. Unfortunately I won't be able to attend but if you're in the area, definitely stop by.  The See.Me guys throw a sick party and it's a great place to meet other artists.  Plus, free wine. :D

- Ken

Thanks for being a part of Year in Review 2013 . With your entry you were guaranteed inclusion in the digital Group Show hosted in our gallery space during Armory Week in NYC, which is coming up this week! We’ll be hard at work producing the show in the days to come and are so excited to celebrate your work. 

If you’re in the New York City area, we hope that you’ll join us for the opening party: 

Friday, March 7th
7pm through 10pm

See.Me Exhibition Space
26-19 Jackson Ave.
Long Island City, NY 11101


Free wine provided by:
Square Wines

Dance along to music from:

We hope to see you there!





"Get it in one shot"

Hey inter-webs,

I wanted to share a link with you guys for an entry to win a Canon 70d and a fancy, shmancy stabilizer rig.  One of the things I love about shooting with a DSLR or DSLM (like my Panny) is that it's small, compact, and really allows for some serious handheld work.  But the drawback is shaky hands.  Enter to win this rig from Comodo and No Film School.  

Link is here: