The lady killer himself: Cousin Dan, flown in all the way from Atlanta just to to blow our minds.

how fucking RAD is this video Landshark and Son of Sharkpig made?

I still haven’t recovered from the awesomeness.

How did they go from this:

to this, you ask?

Stayed tuned for my full coverage of the party in an upcoming blog post to find out!

Every now and then I start to miss living up north. Like Colorado, Alaska is a part of my soul and I was so lucky to call it my home for two summers. During my last year working in Juneau I rarely picked up my camera — my eyes were tired and I was working long hours, so I mostly kept my head down and simply went through the motions. But every now and again I would look up and snap a frame for personal memory — like when I had a few extra minutes to spend with the morning fog on my drive to the office, a flight over the glacier in the rain, the end of season boat trip with co-workers, my brother coming up to visit, kayaking to the glacier with friends, and watching a meteor shower on Douglas Island.

When I left I felt like I experienced everything I could in Alaska for that chapter of my life. Los Angeles may not have whales and glaciers, but it’s definitely where I belong right now.

Last fall I spent four days driving a roughly 400 mile stretch of highway extending from Carson City, Nevada to the Utah/Nevada border pursuing a new project on Highway 50, also known as “The Loneliest Road in America.” People often ask me if the highway lives up to its nickname, and while there are long, isolated stretches of road that are truly lonely, with the halfway point marked by the existence of Austin — which, in many ways, is a borderline ghost town — I was pleasantly surprised by the sparks of life scattered along the way.

Right now, the main tourist push is headed by the Pony Express Territory, who challenge travelers to “survive” The Loneliest Road, offering free survival guides to anyone who wants them. They boast that you “really haven’t seen America until you’ve traveled The Loneliest Road,” and I’m not one to argue otherwise.

The Loneliest Road is a must for any road trip enthusiast — the journey takes you through mining towns harboring classic American West main street charm, and desert scenery ranging from the lush high country to the bare desert plains. Personally, I can’t get enough of the mom and pop diners, especially one in Ely that caters to hunters by covering their booths in camouflage.

I honestly never imagined that there would be so much beauty in Nevada before taking this road trip (some sources I’ve come across claim that Nevada has more mountain ranges than any other state in the continental U.S.), and I hope to return again soon and make more pictures of this incredible highway.

Sometimes I gain a lot of creative clarity when I just go out and take photos of pretty things. When I started my new project on Highway 50 in Nevada, I spent some time getting inspiration from the motels of downtown Reno and the surrounding areas of Virginia City. I have a weakness for photographing motels, which are such a beloved symbol of the road trip culture I know so well. It’s so easy to get sucked in to the romance of their retro, mid-century aesthetics and adore the simplicity of their design. To me, it’s an art form, and a refreshing backdrop when compared to the cookie cutter presence of the Best Westerns and Holiday Inns of today.

Prepare yourselves: I’m about to get all fangirl on this blog.

The only upside of the family emergency situation in France was that I was no longer going to be on a cruise ship docked in Venice, Italy the day of the Royal Wedding. A few days prior to April 29th, we realized my grandmother’s health had improved enough for me to part ways without it weighing on my conscience. The second I booked a last minute plane ticket from Nice to London I could barely contain my excitement: I was going to be IN THE STREETS for the ROYAL. WEDDING. Shut. Up. like, omygawd.

Disclaimer: I was at the event as a fangirl first, photographer second. While I secretly hoped to cover it in a meaningful way that might make for at least a few portfolio-worthy pictures, I’m not sure that I did — regardless, the photos have great meaning to me because the experience itself had great meaning to me. It’s always hard to know when to put down your camera and when to shoot, but my instincts told me to do a mix of both that day and I’m totally happy with that decision.

Truth be told: I was in completely over my head. I love to photograph events because I’m quick on my feet, work extremely well under pressure, and I’ll do what it takes to get the shot. But I had never in my photographic career thusfar attempted to make good imagery at an event this big. To call it overwhelming would be an understatement.

So I snapped photos when I felt inspired, and the rest of my time was spent settled into a nice viewing spot outside Westminster Abbey for the same reason we all were there: to catch a glimpse of Will & Kate.

I saw them. It was ridiculous and amazing all at once.

I don’t ever feel like I have to justify my obsessions, but I will acknowledge the absurdity if only to say that, yes, there was an obscene amount of hype and media attention going to one couple getting married, but that wasn’t what the Royal Wedding hooplah was about for me. Besides the fact that I am anything but a pessimist when it comes to pop culture, I simply saw it as an opportunity to be a part of something major as a twenty-something girl so that I could look back and say: “I was there.” I mean, really, how many times can we say we’ve been a part of anything THAT significant in the world? And sure, it wasn’t one of the many politically shaping protests, revolutions or wars we know have an incredibly weighted impact on humanity, it only had to do with love (and power, depending on how you look at it) — but who’s to say love isn’t just as important sometimes?

(for the record: I believe those kids are straight up meant to be, no bullshit)

As a creative person working on projects that are generally positive in nature, and a self-proclaimed pop culture junkie, I am obsessed with obsessions. Seeing UK’s citizens in the streets, decked out in union jack memorabilia and hand made signs, outfits, and anything else created by their wacky imaginations made me feel like I was surrounded by a million kindred spirits. It was infectious. I even got my cynical friends Jenise and Jimmer to care a little bit, if only to text me updates while they watched the footage an hour away on their TV back at fangirl headquarters.

Of course, being part of the fandom came with its own price to pay. After Will & Kate left the Abbey I wasn’t terrible sure how to pursue the remainder of the day’s events or where to go next. Armed with only one lens (as was the case my entire trip), I didn’t exactly have a professional advantage for the kiss, nor much interest in it as I am a photographer who likes to shoot things on the sidelines and behind the scenes, rather than the action itself. Without thinking, I headed toward the Buckingham Palace and was subsequently trapped by mobs upon mobs of people who were also trapped, united in their wait for the gates to open and the rush to the balcony viewing to begin.

I was only barely able to make it to the Queen Victoria statue before I realized I would be stuck there with an obstructed view, which was clearly counter-productive for a proper fangirl viewing, and then once the kiss(es) were over I would be extra stuck as we all tried to leave at the SAME time. Did I mention I was surrounded by over a million people? I needed to get my exit strategy in order — it was hard enough just to get that far.

So I turned around early, listening to the the roaring cheers from behind signaling kiss one and kiss two. I couldn’t wait to watch the replay later.

The rest of the day I spent wandering aimlessly, hoping to come across a block party or two. Instead I ended up in Trafalgar Square where they had set up giant screens and the crowd collectively watched Will & Kate drive off in his father’s Aston Martin. In true English fashion, everything shut down promptly at 4pm (seriously, what is the DEAL with that?!), and within a blink of an eye it felt like a typical day in London again. Like nothing ever happened.

Thankfully, I still vividly remember every anxious, impatient moment waiting for the wedding to start — from the second I caught an early train out of Liphook, to the moment they rode by in their horse and carriage outside Westminster. I even remember the excitement felt 28 days before, when I made my immediate order of business upon landing in London to walk into the first souvenir store I saw, asked a man dressed as a Buckingham Palace guard to show me to the absolute tackiest item on sale, and walked out with three Will & Kate condoms. Plus a flag.

I ended up coming home with several unique Will & Kate tacky wedding souvenirs, including (but not limited to): a Will & Kate dress up doll activity book, salt & pepper shakers with their poorly Photoshopped faces on them gifted to me by Jenise, royal family tea bags, a shortbread cookie tin, and my good friend Jimmer even got me the official stamps as well as few extra editions of the various newspapers featuring the big day (he’ll tell you he did it to make me happy, but really I know he’s a closet W&K fangirl himself).

All in all, being a part of the Royal Wedding was a dream come true for me and easily one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Any haters can suck it — Will & Kate 4ever <3

These are a handful of quiet images leftover from my wanderings around one of my favorite cities — London. A place where I learned the following:

1) They don’t like it when you call parking garages “castles”
2) They don’t like it when you call Tower Bridge “London Bridge” and refuse to acknowledge it actually moving to Arizona
3) Regardless of what he may promise, don’t expect Colin Firth to meet you at the Buckingham Palace on your birthday — he’ll just stand you up and break your heart
4) Jeremy Kyle’s word is LAW
5) Driving four hours apparently feels like driving for four days if you are British (whimps! I do four hour drives almost as often as I brush my teeth)
6) M&S is the greatest gas station convenience store I have EVER been to — why hasn’t America adopted this chain yet?!?!
7) Bunting flags automatically make everything cuter

One of my main motivations to travel to England was that two friends of mine, Jenise and Jimmer, live in Liphook — about an hour south of London — and had a standing offer for me to stay with them should I ever come visit. I consider myself lucky to have friends all over the country, let alone the world, but luck doesn’t even scratch the surface of the amazing hospitality provided by Jenise and Jimmer. I totally feel like I won the friend lottery — those two basically MADE my trip to England as amazing as it was. Without them I wouldn’t have had nearly as great of a time as I did, and not just because Jenise made me a BADASS cake on my birthday (complete with a fondant unicorn, flat cat, camera, and rainbow — I seriously cried), and Jimmer not only tolerated my sundried tomato obsession, but also gave into my demands to watch reruns of Friends pretty much non-stop. Seriously, they are the most rock n’ roll couple in England. No one can convince me otherwise.

With the Olivers as my tour guides, we embarked on road trips to Stonehenge, Bath, Brighton (twice), and nearby villages, including a special trip to Colin Firth’s birthplace, which I will always associate with the memory of buying a hideous Posh Spice mask that I think would be good to wear on blind dates. Brighton was such a charming coastal town that is a favorite getaway spot for J&J, and after our time there I can totally see why.

One of my favorite memories is when Jimmer played Spinal Tap’s “Stonehenge” in the car en route. That dude knows how to create the perfect playlist for any roadtrip. I think he accepts commissions.

I remember standing at this spot with Jimmer and hearing him say, “Now THIS! is England.”

I love and miss those two almost daily. It’s important to have close friends who help make your dreams come true, and they did just that. I am forever grateful, and hope to someday do the same for them should they ever want to take another American road trip in the near future (hinthint).

As I mentioned in a previous blog post, I truly believe that you get to know the beat of a city by visiting their markets. Born and raised in a vastly suburban environment, large, semi-permanent markets were all but a completely foreign experience to me until I first visited Pike Place in Seattle several years ago. Now I make them a priority whenever I explore a new city.

The discovery of the Borough Market in London was brought about by my friend and former Alaska co-worker, Sierra, who met up with me during her spring break while studying abroad. I had no idea what to expect but I can honestly say that the Borough is, hands down, my absolute favorite food market that I’ve ever been to. The atmosphere alone is worth the visit, as it somehow manages to blend the charms of old London with a modern twist. Not to downplay the food, of course, as I ate one of the best sandwiches of my life in the Borough. I love to support local businesses whenever I travel because it allows me to experience the local flavor, thus giving me the most authentic experience possible. The Borough exceeded all my expectations, and then some — so much so that I went back and spent another full day there before my trip was over.

Once our bellies were full, Sierra and I headed over to Brick Lane, where we browsed and collected some of the cutest handmade items I have EVER seen. Of all the shopping I did on vacation, Brick Lane had some of the best selection of clothes and accessories for my personal style, at the most reasonable prices I found overseas. The alleys and buildings were also incredibly saturated with street art (and hipsters, as to be expected) which was a visual treat for a street art superfan like myself.

Alright, let’s get the unhappy stuff out of the way real quick. The truth is that the Mediterranean cruise my mother, grandmother, and I planned for back in the spring — the main reason I went to Europe in the first place — was drastically cut short. We pretty much missed out on the whole experience because of a family emergency. Two days into the cruise, my grandmother became suddenly ill out of nowhere, suffering from dehydration, heart failure, and a magnitude of other serious health problems and was rushed to the nearest hospital the second we reached our nearest port: Monaco, where we would stay for the remainder of our trip.

During this time, I went through one of the most stressful and heart-wrenching experiences ever shared with my loved ones in recent memory. I’ll be frank: the night she got sick on the cruise ship was absolutely miserable. I had never seen my grandmother so bad before; often I feel like I am strong enough to get my her through whatever situation she may face, but that night I felt completely helpless. It was incredibly hard to watch.

Thankfully, we were supported by our travel insurance, as well as a team of caring individuals — from the kind staff on Holland America, to the employees at Princess Grace hospital (my dynasty-loving grandma got a kick out of that), my brother who was stateside, and, most importantly, our travel agent Michelle, who effortlessly arranged everything we needed within a heartbeat so that I didn’t have to deal with any more drama than what was already piled on.

While this was going on, I was feeling really bad for my mom — I had already been traveling for over two weeks before we met up in Barcelona (where the cruise departed from) and seen quite a bit, yet this was also her first time in Europe and it had come to an abrupt halt almost as soon as it started. Although most days were spent keeping grandma company, waiting on her health to be stable enough to fly her home, my mom and I did manage to sneak away for a couple days and do a little bit of sight-seeing to make up for the cancelled cruise a bit.

We had been told that Nice, France was about a 20 minute train ride away, and the border of Italy was equidistant from Monaco in the opposite direction. My mom — not nearly as savvy with trains and public transportation as I — needed a bit of encouragement for the day trips, but was ultimately impressed by the EU train system.

Personally, I just adored Nice and enjoyed our day there significantly more than my time Paris. Overall I found the people to be friendlier and the city centre livelier. It had the charm of France paired with the colors of Barcelona — a perfect combination for me.

My mother had dreamt of seeing Italy her entire life. The little border town of Ventimiglia was the best we could get to within our time constraints and our mindfulness of wanting to stay somewhat close to grandma in case we needed to return suddenly. There isn’t much to Ventimiglia other than its’ Old Town, which is a labyrinth of authentic Italian life overlooking the coast. It was nice to see my mother so inspired and wrapped up in Italian walls, windows, and doorways. I was glad we could go and make the trip about something other than the family emergency that interrupted it. It sure did help comfort our hearts during that time.