Chasing the Shadow, Finding the Soul

The past year—and these last six months especially—has felt like a slow fracturing of the soul. It has been the darkest, heaviest chapter of my life. A desperate, quiet search.

I was losing myself.

I spent so long drowning in the perfection of materials, chasing the gear, desperately trying to fill an internal void. But in that pursuit, I lost the very anchor of my life: raw, bleeding emotion. Bound to a crushing 70-hour workweek, my passion was suffocating, gasping for air.

Yet, whenever I could steal a moment to hold my Leica M-A, I felt a flicker of life. I loved every agonizing, beautiful second of it—the slow, deliberate ritual of developing film, the vulnerable poetry that only analog can capture. But because I was breaking apart inside, even keeping that tiny spark alive felt like an uphill battle against my own mind.

Art demands time. And I was running out of it.

The Porsche Project

Not long ago, I poured what was left of myself into a project with a Porsche—not the company, just the cold, beautiful metal of the car. I paired the sharp, clinical precision of the Leica SL3 Reporter and a 70-200mm lens with the fragile soul of my Leica M-A.

The images were flawless. Superb. Bitterly sharp.

But they did nothing to ignite my soul. They didn’t charge my battery. When the shutter closed on the final frame, I was left standing in an echoing, hollow emptiness.

The Mirror

Just before I fled, my world shattered completely. A blood test revealed that my immune system was sitting at absolute zero. It was a terrifying reality, far worse than anything we had feared. My body felt entirely vacant, heavy with a deep, agonizing muscle pain that radiated through every limb.

Carrying that terrifying physical weight and a broken spirit, I packed up my beloved Defender and drove into the isolation of the Vosges mountains. I needed to hold a high, unforgiving mirror up to my face. I needed to strip away the noise of a life that was killing me, get back to the brutal basics, and feel the raw, unfiltered essentials of existence.

The Vosges tore me open and put me back together.

I stood weeping at the solemn graves of fallen World War warriors. I stood on the highest, wind-swept peak of the Grand Ballon. I stood on the breathtaking Petit Ballon, seeking solace beneath the silent gaze of the statue of Mother Mary. The weight of those places crashed over me.

Living like a nomad with next to nothing, completely alone in the dark, I watched shooting stars bleed out of the night sky. It was pure alchemy. In that isolation, I finally reconnected with my own heartbeat and rediscovered the true core of my photography. The mountains gave me incredible pictures because I lost track of time entirely; I surrendered to the healing, heavy silence of Mother Nature.

In that profound silence, the illusions broke away, and I finally saw the truth.

Below the Surface

I made a choice. A terrifying, necessary choice. I chose myself.

I have shared 22 beautiful, deeply woven years with my wife. Together, we survived fierce storms, endured relentless hard work, wept over the loss of those we held dear, and brought two magnificent children into this world. I will carry and treasure those 22 years in the deepest chambers of my heart forever. She is, and always will be, my best friend. But for my soul to survive, it was time to let go.

Predictably, the world has judged me harshly. The reactions from family, friends, and onlookers have been painful, to say it fairly. Many cannot fathom my choices, and it cuts deep to realize that some of the very people I poured my life, heart, and love into helping through their darkest times are now the ones nailing me to the cross, trying to paint me as the villain.

What did I ever do to them? Nothing. I only ever loved them and tried to help them heal through their own life struggles.

But when I listen to my breaking body, I know my time on this earth isn’t the longest right now. If I want to extend my life, if I want to survive, I have to make agonizing, unexpected decisions that no one understands. I am doing this to save myself, so I can finally land in a place where I am truly connected to my own spirit and to the family I desperately love. I feel it in my bones that, in the end, everyone will heal better because of this choice. It is a deep, instinctual knowing—and even Suzy, my best friend, feels it too.

Now, I am finally drowning in my emotions again, creating raw art with both digital and film. A new single release for *La Luna* is coming, featuring artwork I captured entirely on film—pure, honest, and unmasked.

I want to thank my Suzy and my beautiful children from the very depths of my bleeding heart. We have shared exquisite moments, and I will treasure every memory. But from now on, it will be different, born from a completely different place.

Sometimes, you have to silence the logical head, shatter expectations, and follow the raw pulling of your heart just to see the truth that lies far below the surface.

 

Thank you