The Small Things
As the days stretch out and the air starts to carry that warm afternoon weight, I find it harder and harder to stay inside. There’s something about this time of year in St. Augustine that pulls you toward the water and the old streets, camera in hand, just to see what the light is doing.
I’m still a sucker for the big moments. I’ll always stop for a full moon rising over the Atlantic or a sunset that paints the sky in impossible colors. Those are the scenes that feel like cinema—timeless and grand. But lately, my eye has been wandering toward the things most people step over on their way to the "real" view.
On the beach, I’ve been looking down. I’ve been watching the way shells settle into the sand or how the sea foam creates these delicate, temporary landscapes of bubbles. Up close, that foam looks like a miniature mountain range reflecting thousands of tiny suns. It only lasts a few seconds before the ocean takes it back, but in that moment, it’s surprisingly intricate.
The same thing is happening when I walk through downtown. I’m finding myself less interested in the famous landmarks and more drawn to the worn edges of the brick streets or the texture of the coquina walls. There’s a quiet history in those details that often feels more honest than the postcards.
This shift in focus—finding beauty in the seemingly uninteresting—has started to consume my work lately. I’ve been documenting these quiet textures and realizing they tell a much larger story than I first thought. It’s a collection that is finally starting to take a definite shape, and I’m looking forward to having it all ready to share with you in a more formal way as we head toward June.
In the meantime, the work continues in other ways. Tonight is First Friday here in St. Augustine, and I’ll be over at Art Box Gallery for a book signing. I’ll have copies of both In the Shadows of the Sky and When We’re Finished on hand. If you’re out enjoying the evening downtown, please stop by and say hello!
I’ll likely still have a bit of beach sand on my shoes.