Music and good directional lighting are two of the most important things I can think of. As a procrastination technique for job hunting I am currently teaching myself chords on the ukulele in my parents’ well-lit basement and it is keeping me from entering that annoying place that art school teaches you about where you convince yourself that your pitiful upper-middle-class-misery is conducive to good arting. This is certainly bullshit because every person at camp made better art than most of the art students I’ve ever met and we were all exceptionally happy campers. 
"I’ll stop talking about camp when I’m done sorting through camp pictures, I promise," she said smugly, crossing her fingers behind her back.

Music and good directional lighting are two of the most important things I can think of. As a procrastination technique for job hunting I am currently teaching myself chords on the ukulele in my parents’ well-lit basement and it is keeping me from entering that annoying place that art school teaches you about where you convince yourself that your pitiful upper-middle-class-misery is conducive to good arting. This is certainly bullshit because every person at camp made better art than most of the art students I’ve ever met and we were all exceptionally happy campers. 

"I’ll stop talking about camp when I’m done sorting through camp pictures, I promise," she said smugly, crossing her fingers behind her back.

This is Sean fighting a Balrog in the Lodge. If Tyler and Evan (who are drinking coffee) seem less concerned than you might think a situation such as “Balrog in the Lodge” calls for, it is because I think Sean’s official title includes “Defender of the Lodge,” and so this sort of thing is all-in-a-day’s-work for him. No big deal, really.
While this post doesn’t adhere to the visual aesthetic of my blog— which used to comprise of pallid colors of artful death but is now basically a photographic friendship bracelet— I feel like it is an important addition. I wasn’t sure why until I re-read the phrase “adhere to the visual aesthetic” and my nose wrinkled all up because that sounds like something that the Home Owner’s Association would say, and I fear those grumpy suburbanites and their strange set of values more than any Balrog of Morgoth. 

This is Sean fighting a Balrog in the Lodge. If Tyler and Evan (who are drinking coffee) seem less concerned than you might think a situation such as “Balrog in the Lodge” calls for, it is because I think Sean’s official title includes “Defender of the Lodge,” and so this sort of thing is all-in-a-day’s-work for him. No big deal, really.

While this post doesn’t adhere to the visual aesthetic of my blog— which used to comprise of pallid colors of artful death but is now basically a photographic friendship bracelet— I feel like it is an important addition. I wasn’t sure why until I re-read the phrase “adhere to the visual aesthetic” and my nose wrinkled all up because that sounds like something that the Home Owner’s Association would say, and I fear those grumpy suburbanites and their strange set of values more than any Balrog of Morgoth. 

This is Jamie the Wrangler again. We teased her already formidable mane into a more jungle-themed one. I think it speaks for itself. 

This is Jamie the Wrangler again. We teased her already formidable mane into a more jungle-themed one. I think it speaks for itself. 

One day, when camp was Lion King themed, the kitchen fed all of the staff members giant turkey legs but the kids ate regular ol’ chicken legs because of unfair adult privileges. This was a bold move because unlike turkey, chicken does not have the amino acid L-tryptophan which induces sleep. We were also allowed two desserts. Unfortunately, L-tryptophan and extra desserts is a recipe for the devastating sort of sleepiness caused by forgetting you took a Benadryl and saying yes, please to a large glass of of wine… I don’t know what the campers were up to during rest hour because I was happily dealing with the consequences of my meal choices, but I think we were all lucky that there was not a mutiny that day.
This is Kayla, who is lovely. Kayla used to be a vegetarian. She lives in Ohio right now, but she has realized the error of her ways and will soon live in the correct state.

One day, when camp was Lion King themed, the kitchen fed all of the staff members giant turkey legs but the kids ate regular ol’ chicken legs because of unfair adult privileges. This was a bold move because unlike turkey, chicken does not have the amino acid L-tryptophan which induces sleep. We were also allowed two desserts. Unfortunately, L-tryptophan and extra desserts is a recipe for the devastating sort of sleepiness caused by forgetting you took a Benadryl and saying yes, please to a large glass of of wine… I don’t know what the campers were up to during rest hour because I was happily dealing with the consequences of my meal choices, but I think we were all lucky that there was not a mutiny that day.

This is Kayla, who is lovely. Kayla used to be a vegetarian. She lives in Ohio right now, but she has realized the error of her ways and will soon live in the correct state.

Sometimes I miss being four years old and waiting all day long for the neighbor kid to get home so I could drive his little battery-operated car that topped out at 2-and-a-half miles per hour around the block, but then I remember that I have a real-life vehicle that (used to) top out at 120 and that that I can drive it anywhere I want because I am twenty-three years old and I get the exact same kind of excited. This particular nostalgic joy is important to my sense of freedom, which feels a bit threatened lately. When my truck finally kicks the bucket this picture is gonna make me sob.

Sometimes I miss being four years old and waiting all day long for the neighbor kid to get home so I could drive his little battery-operated car that topped out at 2-and-a-half miles per hour around the block, but then I remember that I have a real-life vehicle that (used to) top out at 120 and that that I can drive it anywhere I want because I am twenty-three years old and I get the exact same kind of excited. This particular nostalgic joy is important to my sense of freedom, which feels a bit threatened lately. When my truck finally kicks the bucket this picture is gonna make me sob.

I was going to say that Rose is a Queen of Tie Dye , but I was wrong because as it turns out, Rose is the actual Goddess of Tie Dye. It is probably Rose’s fault that every white shirt I used to have is now in a pile I’m labeling “TBD,” or To Be Dyed. This works out well because they’re all stained at least a little bit somewhere. Honestly, I’m not sure I could trust someone who owns more than one white shirt that is completely without stain. What is such a person even doing with their life? Whatever it is, they should cut it out and do some tie dye instead.

I was going to say that Rose is a Queen of Tie Dye , but I was wrong because as it turns out, Rose is the actual Goddess of Tie Dye. It is probably Rose’s fault that every white shirt I used to have is now in a pile I’m labeling “TBD,” or To Be Dyed. This works out well because they’re all stained at least a little bit somewhere. Honestly, I’m not sure I could trust someone who owns more than one white shirt that is completely without stain. What is such a person even doing with their life? Whatever it is, they should cut it out and do some tie dye instead.

Taking a quick break from camp photos… Look how pretty my new scoliosis and possible dislocated rib are! I want an x-ray machine but I would totally give myself horrible radiation sicknesses taking too many pictures of my own viscera. Is viscera correct? Or is it only called viscera once it comes out of you when you are eviscerated? Like how magma is suddenly lava when it comes out of the earth? I don’t know the terminology, I’m just an art kid, I guess.

Taking a quick break from camp photos… Look how pretty my new scoliosis and possible dislocated rib are! I want an x-ray machine but I would totally give myself horrible radiation sicknesses taking too many pictures of my own viscera. Is viscera correct? Or is it only called viscera once it comes out of you when you are eviscerated? Like how magma is suddenly lava when it comes out of the earth? I don’t know the terminology, I’m just an art kid, I guess.

Just look at that magnificent creature flowing majestically through that perfect freaking field. The horse is pretty too. 
This is Jaime the Wrangler who is a supreme leader of horses, leading Shawnee who used to be in a movie on a trot in the arena. Jaime will likely make more appearances over the next few weeks because she has a smile so bright I have to stop down my aperture to capture it.
What can I say about this photograph that isn’t a pitiful attempt to reword some dumb cliché about freedom? Maybe I should just shut up. What is it about horse pictures that makes me wanna shut up?  
Instead I’ll say that I have a lot of catching up to do since camp ended and I have 16,000-ish photographs to go through so expect a lot of weirdness and sappiness and nostalgia over the next few weeks.Oh boy, I just got super excited… I think it’s gonna be a long night.

Just look at that magnificent creature flowing majestically through that perfect freaking field. The horse is pretty too. 

This is Jaime the Wrangler who is a supreme leader of horses, leading Shawnee who used to be in a movie on a trot in the arena. Jaime will likely make more appearances over the next few weeks because she has a smile so bright I have to stop down my aperture to capture it.

What can I say about this photograph that isn’t a pitiful attempt to reword some dumb cliché about freedom? Maybe I should just shut up. What is it about horse pictures that makes me wanna shut up?  

Instead I’ll say that I have a lot of catching up to do since camp ended and I have 16,000-ish photographs to go through so expect a lot of weirdness and sappiness and nostalgia over the next few weeks.Oh boy, I just got super excited… I think it’s gonna be a long night.

"Dinner at camp is never boring because every night we have "dinner-tainment," I said cheerfully to the campers one evening. In impressive unison they looked up from their desserts, furrowed their brows, pursed their lips into little lines of harsh judgement, and shook their heads until they had accomplished expressions of such devastating disdain that I immediately resolved to repeat my new-found pun as loudly and as often as possible.
This is Elliott eating a biscuit without his hands. I’m starting to suspect that everyone here was hired because of specific talents like these.

"Dinner at camp is never boring because every night we have "dinner-tainment," I said cheerfully to the campers one evening. In impressive unison they looked up from their desserts, furrowed their brows, pursed their lips into little lines of harsh judgement, and shook their heads until they had accomplished expressions of such devastating disdain that I immediately resolved to repeat my new-found pun as loudly and as often as possible.

This is Elliott eating a biscuit without his hands. I’m starting to suspect that everyone here was hired because of specific talents like these.

At camp it is important to have friends with good skills. It is even more important to keep friends who work in the kitchen because of extra oatmeal cookies. 

At camp it is important to have friends with good skills. It is even more important to keep friends who work in the kitchen because of extra oatmeal cookies. 

Playing with lights at Andrew’s lake. Staff training. 

Playing with lights at Andrew’s lake. Staff training. 

Free time here is scarce but every once in a while I steal a minute to cultivate old habits. The girls are excavating the garden and there are oddities to be collected and now my coworkers are beginning to wonder why I have a bunch of dead vegetables in my truck bed. 

I’m finishing up my first week at camp in Durango and since we’re sharing bunks until the end of staff training I haven’t been able to nest properly so the universe or whatever sent me this treasure. I’m going to like it here I think.

I’m finishing up my first week at camp in Durango and since we’re sharing bunks until the end of staff training I haven’t been able to nest properly so the universe or whatever sent me this treasure. I’m going to like it here I think.

I am so excited about this moth not only because she is beautiful but also because I have a weird story to accompany her photo. Pretty (sometimes dead) things are so much more interesting when they come with a story…
Last year in a coffee shop in Mancos, Colorado I bought an old book called Moths and How to Rear Them, to hoard as a funny coffee table thing. Bored one night, I began filling in the old black and white photos with colored pencil. Of the eighty-eight moths featured in the book, I chose a species known as Hylophora Gloveri, or Glover’s Silk Moth. I colored only this moth because I have the attention span of, yeah, well, a moth. I had never heard of the moth before, I just liked its muted earthy dust colors.
A few days later a rare Colorado rainstorm dropped this very same moth on my sidewalk. 
"This must be a sign!…of…uhh…something!" Is what I would have said if I believed in signs.
Instead I said: “Whoa that is a very peculiar coincidence.” And then I looked around to check for aliens, or more likely witches or something because I am watching too much Supernatural. Don’t ask me why paranormal entities want to waste their time bestowing me with dead moth gifts; that’s their business, not mine. 
Though I made a few amateur modifications, I tried to follow the methods outlined in the book to display the beautiful little creature. I made a relaxing jar—which softens the body and allows it to move without crunching to bits— out of a film developing tank because I am such a hipster. I probably did a terrible job so if you follow me and happen to be a moth-mounting-expert, please just forgive me and know that I did the best I could with my shaky coffee-addict hands. Evidently, the Whisker of a Lion makes an ideal mounting instrument— I am serious, that is what the book actually says— but as I do not know any lions who are willing to part with their whiskers, I had to use less sophisticated technology.  I know that the wings are meant to be parted more, but I prefer this calm resting look to the spread-eagle-grade-school-dissection sort of aesthetic of author and moth enthusiast Paul Villiard.
She has a wingspan of about five inches which, I guess, is as big as these lovely creatures get. Somehow, the storm only tattered her soft little wings slightly. I think I prefer the imperfections. 
While I would love to start a collection, I would pretty much have to pay a lot of money to raise a moth and eventually murder that moth and I am no good at killing things so I would end up with a lot of pet moths to take care of. I’ll guess I’ll leave my collection up to chance for now.

I am so excited about this moth not only because she is beautiful but also because I have a weird story to accompany her photo. Pretty (sometimes dead) things are so much more interesting when they come with a story…

Last year in a coffee shop in Mancos, Colorado I bought an old book called Moths and How to Rear Them, to hoard as a funny coffee table thing. Bored one night, I began filling in the old black and white photos with colored pencil. Of the eighty-eight moths featured in the book, I chose a species known as Hylophora Gloveri, or Glover’s Silk Moth. I colored only this moth because I have the attention span of, yeah, well, a moth. I had never heard of the moth before, I just liked its muted earthy dust colors.

A few days later a rare Colorado rainstorm dropped this very same moth on my sidewalk. 

"This must be a sign!…of…uhh…something!" Is what I would have said if I believed in signs.

Instead I said: “Whoa that is a very peculiar coincidence.” And then I looked around to check for aliens, or more likely witches or something because I am watching too much Supernatural. Don’t ask me why paranormal entities want to waste their time bestowing me with dead moth gifts; that’s their business, not mine. 

Though I made a few amateur modifications, I tried to follow the methods outlined in the book to display the beautiful little creature. I made a relaxing jar—which softens the body and allows it to move without crunching to bits— out of a film developing tank because I am such a hipster. I probably did a terrible job so if you follow me and happen to be a moth-mounting-expert, please just forgive me and know that I did the best I could with my shaky coffee-addict hands. Evidently, the Whisker of a Lion makes an ideal mounting instrument— I am serious, that is what the book actually says— but as I do not know any lions who are willing to part with their whiskers, I had to use less sophisticated technology.  I know that the wings are meant to be parted more, but I prefer this calm resting look to the spread-eagle-grade-school-dissection sort of aesthetic of author and moth enthusiast Paul Villiard.

She has a wingspan of about five inches which, I guess, is as big as these lovely creatures get. Somehow, the storm only tattered her soft little wings slightly. I think I prefer the imperfections. 

While I would love to start a collection, I would pretty much have to pay a lot of money to raise a moth and eventually murder that moth and I am no good at killing things so I would end up with a lot of pet moths to take care of. I’ll guess I’ll leave my collection up to chance for now.

Tanner made this for me. He also made me these. I can’t believe we used to think he was not artistic because clearly he is a genius. I am glad he did not pursue an art degree because I am afraid he would be winning. 
We brought this back on our road trip from Pennsylvania to Colorado and now I am going through terrible road trip withdrawal.  When you are on a road trip, no one expects anything of you. Apart from moving in a forward direction, you do not have any responsibilities until the time comes to fill up the tank and find a meal. You have no choice but to live in the moment, and it is a wonderful feeling. It also helps if your best friend is trapped in the small truck with you and your other best friend is a superbly entertaining texter for when the Missouri scenery grows dull. 

Tanner made this for me. He also made me these. I can’t believe we used to think he was not artistic because clearly he is a genius. I am glad he did not pursue an art degree because I am afraid he would be winning. 

We brought this back on our road trip from Pennsylvania to Colorado and now I am going through terrible road trip withdrawal.  When you are on a road trip, no one expects anything of you. Apart from moving in a forward direction, you do not have any responsibilities until the time comes to fill up the tank and find a meal. You have no choice but to live in the moment, and it is a wonderful feeling. It also helps if your best friend is trapped in the small truck with you and your other best friend is a superbly entertaining texter for when the Missouri scenery grows dull.