With everything happening in the Gulf of Mexico, I thought it was interesting that I was able to visit the Prince William Sound last weekend.  I remember the Exxon Valdez oil spill back in 1989, and how it seemed the impact on the environment would last forever.  I spent a few days on a fishing boat out of Whittier, Alaska, and from all I could tell, you would never know that such a catastrophic event ever took place.  That gives me hope.

I was fortunate to meet Mr. Penn once. I still remember sitting across the table from him almost 9 years ago, when I interviewed to be his intern. I remember the first question he asked me, “So, tell me about yourself.” I was stunned. Mr. Penn was speaking to me. 30-45 seconds must have past before I could muster a single word. It was as if I was frozen. My brain wanted to answer the question, but my mouth refused. I finally blurted out that I was from Utah. That’s it. As you can probably imagine, things just got worse from there.

At one point he looked through my “portfolio,” which consisted of a plastic folder with clear sleeves that I had purchased at my university bookstore for $1.50. It was filled with prints of projects I had worked on in school–a still life of a silver candlestick (thoroughly retouched), a series of conceptual illustrations of figures of speech using plastic toys. I can only imagine what he must have been thinking as he glanced through the body of work, which in retrospect, was quite possibly my worst work of all time. It’s almost laughable now that I even approached The Master and showed him anything I had done, yet, I was touched by his sincerity and kindness–and just how nice of a person he was. He asked me questions about a few of the pictures, and seemed genuinely interested in who I was. The entire interview couldn’t have lasted more than 6 or 7 minutes, but in my mind hours passed.

I left pretty sure that I wasn’t going to get the internship (which I didn’t), but somehow I felt blessed that I was given even 5 minutes alone with Mr. Irving Penn, if only to bask in his light. The experience solidified my decision to dedicate my life to photography, and I look back on it as a singular moment of my life.

Is this one of those moments where we lose something wonderful, but gain something better from it?  What will rise from the ashes?  All of those creative people who just lost their jobs are going to do something…

I chose an image I shot at my grandmother’s house on the day of her funeral entitled “Birdhouses.” I’m not going to be offering the image through Red Leaf, so the lucky person that bids on it at the fundraiser will be truly lucky indeed!

Had an enjoyable morning dropping my kids off for their first day. One to kindergarten, the other to pre-school. Who ever thought I’d live this long…

Speaking of school, I spent the summer shooting at the Catholic school down the street from me. It was built in 1928 and, for the most part, has remained just as cool as it was then. Check out some of the shots: