STORIES From the Field

At the turn of each calendar, I reflect on my work from the year prior, often through a lens of critique beneath the guise of ambition. In January, however, inspired by a longing to photograph more freely, where curiosity meets observation, I chose a fresh mantra that would serve as my guiding compass: discovery without expectation.  This spring, as I prepared to embark on a voyage across the Atlantic, touching down on the African continent for the first time, I felt liberated by these words. ...

Since the earthquake in 2010, Haitians began migrating to Chile and Brazil in search of employment. But with the onset of the pandemic in March 2020, it became increasingly difficult to find and keep jobs, forcing many north to Mexico. In September 2021, intense images and stories circulated the internet as tens of thousands of Haitians arrived at the Del Rio International Bridge on the US border. A few months later in December, I traveled to Acuña, just across the border from Del Rio, Texas....

For 15 years, I traveled back and forth to Haiti. Between 2013 and 2017, I lived and worked on the ground full-time. In many ways, it became home; more than home, really. It became an all-encompassing identity, fractured by two distinctly separate lives, two worlds, intertwined into one – memories fragmented by culture, language and the barriers between.   In January 2021, I boarded my last flight out of Haiti. With the rise of political insecurity, the assassination of the president and...

Everything feels uncertain and yet certain all at once. Each morning, I raise the blinds halfway. The sun casts shadows through my living room windows. Suddenly, the contrast of light and dark doesn’t feel so heavy. I peer out into the courtyard. The seasons are changing; the once barren trees are lush; the birds call to one another. I hear the dog in the unit above me, his claws against the hardwood. Suddenly, I don’t feel so alone. I’ve been running for what feels like a lifetime. But from...

In January 2023, I spent a week exploring Portugal with my friend, Matisse, who invited me along on her month-long trip as she made a rather momumental life decision — whether or not she'd relocate across the Atlantic to call Lisbon her home. (Spoiler alert, she did). It was the off-season. Most travel to Portugal during the summer months to take full advantage of the world-renowned beaches, the warmer temperatures and the laissez-faire holiday lifestyle. But there was something magical about...

Dusk begins to fall like a sigh of relief after a long day’s work; blood, sweat and tears in its most literal sense. A stagnant line of vehicles is evidence of the journey home for many. Hues of pastel paint the sky, a thick coat of smog masking the silhouette of the mountains in the distant background. Paradoxical beauty abounds. Some travel by foot on the side of the busy road; others straddle the back of motorcycle taxis. This is blue hour, the brief sliver of daylight left after the sun...

At the end of 2020, hopeful optimism hung in the air. The calendar’s turnover was like an offer of respite for the weary; a long, deep exhale; an accomplished sense of relief I imagine most marathon runners feel as they collapse over the finish line. But 2021 proved the long race, or slow crawl rather, had only just begun. Because loss is not bothered by our calendars or our schedules, our goal-setting or our resolutions. Loss looms in the corners of our every day, framed and hung on the walls...