A Practice Born from Necessity

For 15 years, the seed of this project has been with me, taking on different names and variations. But the core was always a desire to experience presence and passion through others. Inevitably, the clarity and excitement that gave each attempt life would fade and get lost in the gaps. The project would stall, existing only as a distant concept, never taking root.

I’ve come to understand that the desire I’ve intuitively followed isn’t just a creative project. It’s a necessity. For me, photography has become more than work or creative expression. It is my way of connecting with the world, of being more present and engaged. The images I create become my anchors, a lasting connection to the conversation and tangible proof of lessons I can return to when my own clarity fades. In a way, they are my memory prosthetics.

I first learned this looking back at the shipyard project.  I spent days wandering the shipyard, listening to stories, photographing anyone willing. I know for certain it was one of the greatest experiences of my life, yet today, the only thing I hold onto are the facts. I know the locations, I know I had great conversations,  and I know I witnessed a lot of cool shit.  But when I look at the photos of the people I spent the most time with, I can feel the pride they shared come through the image.

This is when I understood. To get closer to experiencing the world with the depth I hear in memoirs, I realized I had to build my own support system. I could use my camera to connect with people I’m fascinated by, to talk about the things I’m desperate to understand. This could be my way into the space between.

The Heart of Craft grew from this necessity. It is both the work I love and the practice I need, a way to stay close to the qualities I long for but struggle to connect with. I find so many vividly wonderful qualities in craftspeople, in their element, connected to their tools. That intimacy with the process is what I seek. I know these qualities intellectually, I even know that I practice them, but if you can’t remember how they feel, do they exist?

In photography, I feel the pull toward the newest camera with greater speed and automation, ensuring more space for creativity.  But something essential gets lost in that exchange. I need the pauses. To connect back to the camera, which leads back to the process, allowing me to see the photo.  

This project is how I learn to slow down and stay connected, not just in my work but in my life. It is about showing up with intention, trusting my intuition, and creating the conditions for presence to grow. 

Because presence is all I truly have.

When I spend time with a craftsperson observing and in conversation, I wonder if something of their presence passes into me, if I borrow a fragment of their way of being. I may never know for sure. What I have are images, recorded voices, and a sense that something meaningful passed between us. Through these, I return not just to what happened, but closer to what it meant.

This project has always been about shining a light on craft and sharing those insights with the world. It turns out that the path I need to walk for myself is a universally useful one. It is the journey from the work I know how to do into the work I long to create. 

If these stories and photographs help you find your own way into that space between, if they spark recognition of the presence you already carry, That is what The Heart of Craft was meant to do.