I’ve always wanted to capture images in a mirrored box that caught various degrees of light through its lens, but I never saw a good opportunity to purchase – what I thought to be then – an expensive camera. Shortly after my father died in 2011, I felt compelled to finally throw some money down for a DSLR camera. A Canon Rebel T3 to be exact. My father, whom I nicknamed Ewok early on (probably after Return of the Jedi came out), and I had a great – beyond fantastically unusual – relationship. Our connection was so immense and truly unbelievable; I fear that I will never have that again with anyone else. He was a caring, loving father and an awesome, inspiring mentor. Most of all, he was my best friend and true soul mate.

Side Note: Ewok1 was ex-military, who served in Vietnam, 101st Army Ranger, Airborne & Reconnaissance. Later in life, he was also a late night cab driver for over 17 years. Both of these jobs required a use of a radio. For most of my life when ever my dad left me a voice or text message – even when it was a really quick call, his way of saying good-bye was “Ewok1, over (and) out.” My dad was a really funny “dude”. (He hated when I called him “dude” as a teenager. He’d always say,”I’m not a dude, I’m your dad.” But I digress.

With Ewok’s absence, I felt a horrible void. I spent months (and eventually years) looking for purpose. Sadly, my sense of self began to fade. I needed something to latch on to, something to keep me from spiraling out of control, and something to keep me anchored in reality. When I finally I looked through my viewfinder for the very first time, I thought, “This seems different, almost beautiful.” I haven’t been able to find something to inspire me since my father’s death; it was something I was definitely lacking at this point in my life.

After my dad’s death, I decided I wanted to visit Ireland for sure. I had set up two books by candlelight, stacking them on one another and it reads,  “One Day Ireland”.  This moment was the catalyst that sent me on a mission to record the glorious beauty that we, the living – all take for granted. I miss my father from the depths of my being; a part of me died with his last breath.  (And when I say a part of me died when he did,  it’s literal. Since 2000, my dad carried within in him three  kidneys; 2 of his own and one of mine.) Alas, I am wishing that I can discover new parts of myself, along with the parts of this world that I have yet to experience, through the lens of my camera.

One Day Ireland