Twelve years ago, I moved from the familiar green pastures and dense forests of my childhood home in New England to create a new life in the desert.
Here I discovered a land where sun, sand, wind, drought, and flood gave tenuous hold to only the hardiest plants. I walked the washes and mountain trails amazed at their adaptations to survive this harsh climate.

Over time my initial trepidation turned to awe - a reverence for the austerity of desert life and a transformation in my aesthetic sensibilities.  My photography - both technically and spiritually - became more attentive to the subtle, muted, tonal dimensions of my adopted home, and my photography of Smoke trees, symbolic of this personal transformation.

When I first spotted Smoke trees from a distance their wispy tangle of thin gray branches looked like a puff of smoke. Fascinated, I walked the washes in search of their scarce, small groves.  As I spent more time with these curious trees, I fell in love and they revealed their grace: light, lyrical, dancers in the wind. So, I dedicated my photographer's craft to bring the barely visible - these puffs of smoke – into photographs to share with others their ephemeral beauty.

This body of work documents the Smoke trees growth and blooms, their tenacity and vulnerability. It is a success to the extent that I can help others to see and treasure the Smoke trees unique, dynamic, and fragile elegance.  To make the invisible visible.