I’ve been friends with the man pictured above for more than half a decade. It all started with a Craigslist search for my first motorcycle. 

I ran across an ad titled, “Faster than a raped ape, faster than a cheetah on cocaine.” I called him up and it spiraled from there…

Todd Kiergen is a rare man. He’s got a beard down to the middle of his chest that’s raggedy at the bottom because he keeps catching it in his drill press. He measures time in cigarettes. He’s got a stereo that hits stadium rock volume levels and I’ve seen some of his bikes fire three-foot flames out of their tail pipes. He can talk about compression ratios, valve clearance and various bike models until I’m totally lost, and then follow it up with a joke about racing an ugly woman to the light switch. I’ve never met anyone like him before. 

This originally appeared in Accent Magazine along with an essay that I wrote and some photographs. 

Reely and Truly is a short documentary about contemporary photography and what it means to be a photographer from filmmaker Tyrone Lebon. 

Filmed on a whole mess of formats (16mm, 8mm, super 8 etc.) and using a free form narrative and audio structure the film plays out like some kind of guided trip. 

If you have 30 minutes get coffee and headphones and sit down with this. If you don’t have 30 minutes do it anyway. 

A day spent scanning is a day well spent…

Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I battle dust, and white balance with a vengeance and generally massage film turned pixels.

I’m getting tired of my flatbed. It’s got some quirks that I just can’t abide. Anyone have any experience with this thing?

According to color theory, orange increases oxygen supply to the brain, produces an invigorating effect, and stimulates mental activity.

I could be all the orange or all the vino or all the sunlight and long walks. Something about Buenos Aires is definitely invigorating. 

Scenes from my first day in Buenos Aires. I’ll be down here until December 4th checking out the city and Argentina at large. 

Good light on the Coney Island bound Q. 

A good friend of mine has lived in New York for about half a decade and he’s never been to Coney Island. So, we decided to head out on a cold and windy Sunday to ride to the Wonder Wheel and expose him to the kitschy weirdness.

Sadly the wheel was closed when we got there, but we had a good time anyway. 

Leaf Peeping in Maine. October, 2014. 

One of my photos from Bolivia is in Empty Stretch’s Petty Thieves Five.

You can buy a copy here! 

Or check out other zines by the super awesome folks at Empty Stretch. 

The downside of having an obscure roadster made my a boutique company. 

This is Quick. He was one of the many participants in the Automotive High School’s car show in Greenpoint this weekend. 

You can see a whole series on this show over on my website. 

Brooklyn Invitational. October 2014

Brooklyn Invitational. Brooklyn New York. September 2014.

Sunday funday ride with Francis Kielb. 

About three and a half hours into what was supposed to be a two and a half hour ride my phone died. No GPS so I had to buy a map and tape directions to my tank. It was surprisingly rewarding. I need to unplug more often. 

“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics: You are all stardust. You couldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded, because the elements - the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, iron, all the things that matter for evolution and for life - weren’t created at the beginning of time. They were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars, and the only way for them to get into your body is if those stars were kind enough to explode. So, forget Jesus. The stars died so that you could be here today.”

—

 Lawrence M. Krauss

Long ride home on the G. Brookyln, New York. July 2014. 

Somewhere on the Kaladan River. Myanamar, 2013.

My Red Wing Iron Rangers after a year and a half of abuse. 

Leafy shadows. Greenpoint Brooklyn.