My contribution to Raven Chacon’s Tiguex; September 27, 2025 photo by Alyosha Goldstein
But there’s also something rare here. Being a weirdo—or just different—isn’t just tolerated, it’s celebrated. I don’t think any other place in the country has this much genuine uniqueness. That recognition of individuality is part of what makes New Mexico one of the last truly original places to live.
Read MoreVery excited to share a link to a really nice interview of yours truly, via Dan Milnor on his website SHIFTER.media I’d be thrilled if you watch the whole video. we really cover a lot of ground. As a special offer to celebrate this interview video, I am sharing links to two out of print zines that we discuss. REFRACTE is my Paris zine from two years ago, and ONE SIXTY SEVEN is work I completed last year. Click the links below to purchase directly through MAGCLOUD. They will ship directly to you, and I’ll get paid. Easy peasy. Note these are unsigned copies for general sale.
Every summer, for a while now anyway, around my house we start to anticipate that wonderful day… sometime in August, when summer finally “breaks.” It doesn’t end—it still gets hot during the day—but there’s this special, intangible release from the dried, bony grip of the desert heat. You don’t know exactly when it’s going to happen, but you definitely know when it finally does.
In all honesty, this summer hasn’t broken yet. maybe tomorrow? maybe next week? it’ll happen, and when it does, I’ll feel that slight relief, like I’ve turned the last bend in a tunnel and can finally see light again.
This desert heat makes it near impossible to do much of anything outdoors during the day. And since my job is 100% remote now, I spend almost every day in the confines of my well-air-conditioned studio. The luxury of time and space can sometimes turn into a trap, of course. Especially when I realize I’ve spent the whole day by myself, staring at a screen… albeit a screen covered in my own artwork, rather than doom-scrolling through social media.
I’ve spent a good part of the past couple of years slowly but surely moving away from straight photography. Collage, and the side roads it opens up—cyanotypes, encaustic—have led me down a rabbit hole of found faces and anonymous antagonists in a kind of self-created history. All of it comes rolling out of my brain, takes form, gets trashed, re-photographed, reproduced, repurposed. sometimes many times over. I don’t know if it’s good or not. if I’m making IMPORTANT work, or if I’m just deluding myself. On good days, I just appreciate the ability and the space to create, mostly undisturbed. On bad days, the existential angst takes over, and I waver between “what’s the point?” and “there is no legacy for most of us, so why even give a fuck?”
Soon, the desert will start to cool, the days will grow shorter. The swamp cooler will be covered for the long winter, and maybe I’ll come back and read this again, and even laugh at the desert doldrums I’m wallowing in right now.
When will it break? When?
The smell of diesel exhaust, hot rubber or plastic flowers, blooming cat shit in the hallway, salt in the air, smoke from burning garbage or vine leaves, grilled fish, and the pungent, sour remnants at the bottom of a Moretti bottle.
I recently returned from what is now my fourth trip to Sicily in a year. This was solely a vacation—though I did bring cameras and art making some material. I spent most of my time sleeping, reading, swimming, lounging in the sun, eating, drinking, and daydreaming. I was also gathering material for my future art practice, leaning heavily into the collage and mixed-media direction I’ve been steadily exploring.
I also accumulated a huge envelope full of receipts—bank statements, restaurant bills, grocery lists, even IKEA slips—all with the intention of running them through my thermal printing toy camera. Sample images are included here.
This time away—certainly from my studio, but also from America—had a number of effects on my thinking. Being separated from the daily political, Trump-related hysteria was a relief. Even though I couldn’t completely block it out, the eight-hour time difference made it feel slightly more distant.
I thought a lot about photography—and more generally, about art-making. I wasn’t especially motivated to make photographs on this trip. I used my phone as a visual sketchbook, but beyond that, I didn’t try to seriously capture anything. My relationship with photography has been tenuous at best, especially over the past five years. Since the pandemic, I’ve been pushing into other visual directions.
Yet I record a photography-based podcast, so I keep one foot firmly planted in that world—even if sometimes my legs are stretched quite far across the divide.
While traveling, I kept thinking about why artists travel in the first place. One obvious reason is to be inspired by unfamiliar or different environments. Still, I often feel that taking photos in distant lands can verge on armchair exoticism at best—or exploitation of local people and traditions at worst.
To reconcile those feelings, I try to think of inspiration as a two-way street. I see things I’m not familiar with, I get visually inspired, and yes—that act is selfish, even greedy at its core. But if I can translate that inspiration into my own creative expression and share it back with the world, I feel like I’m at least tipping the scale back toward equilibrium. I take the inspiration, I mold it, and then I give it back.
Photography, specifically for me in these places, is a double-edged sword. I do get visually stimulated and make images quite freely when I’m overseas or in a new environment. However, I also try to avoid the predictable—the things that have already been seen and photographed to death. I think that’s why I’ve gravitated so strongly toward hand-manipulated work, collage, and multimedia. I feel those pieces carry at least an extra layer of my own perspective—my own aesthetic.
Food for thought as I jump back into my studio practice and prepare for a long, hot summer in the desert. Dreaming of the Aeolian Islands off the coast of Sicily might be the one thing that keeps me grounded.
I’ve been trying to take my foot off the gas pedal after a big month of exhibitions, openings and performances. I decided to stay away from my cameras and do some work with my hands (as well as my eyes…) As I’ve written about earlier on this blog, I am part of the International Union of Mail Artists, a quasi-federation of postal art enthusiasts scattered around the globe. This week I started making a series of 4” x 6” postcards to send out to fellow members. I have been working exclusively in collage for this project. I picked up a few vintage 1964 volumes from a children’s scientific encyclopedia at a thrift store, and have been combining found imagery from there along with old magazines and art books. The results I am calling “PROOF” which is a nod to another earlier idea I’ve had. Proof meaning: evidence of my existence, of a working brain, eyes and heart. Proof that art matters. Proof that sharing matters. Proof that I am alive. Here is a sample of the work I’ve been producing below. Who knows, one might just show up in your mailbox soon.
I thought I'd take this opportunity to check in with all my readers (maybe just one or two regulars, haha!) and fill you in on what I've been up to over the past few months. It's been a challenging time, and I've been doing my best to stay positive while focusing on my personal work, my health, and my life in general. The world around us can feel increasingly overwhelming, but thankfully, I have my studio—a true sanctuary. It's my safe space to create, reflect, and grow every day.
I’m excited to share that I currently have two exhibits here in Albuquerque. Over a week ago, I had the opening of my solo show at Zendo Coffee. The work on display is from my Burn Index desert series, which features photo collages with encaustic wax. The opening was really special to me. I had a great turnout and was thrilled to sell some pieces on the very first night. I also released a companion zine to coincide with the show, and I still have a few copies left. If you're interested, you can grab one by following this link.
As I write this, I’m preparing to head downtown to 516 ARTS, Albuquerque’s premier contemporary art space, where I'll be part of a group photography show titled New Tableau. The show is curated by a good friend of mine, Daniel Ulibarri, and features a mix of local and international photographers. I’m truly honored to be included in this exhibition. The work I’m showing at 516 ARTS is a very personal new series called Sic Transit Gloria Mundi. It explores my relationship with my father, who is featured prominently in the artwork. Like my previous work, these pieces combine photography and encaustics. The series consists of 31 images, each printed on old Latin textbook pages, mounted onto board, and then covered in wax.
While it’s incredibly exciting to have my work displayed, this also feels like a period of closure for me. It’s giving me the space to unplug and decompress, allowing me to focus on other things—like hitting the gym several times a week, working on my podcast, and dedicating time to my day job, which thankfully keeps the bills paid.
Looking ahead, I’m excited for the months to come. A trip to Sicily is on the horizon, which definitely adds a little excitement to my life! But I’m also eager to explore new creative avenues.
So, that’s my update! I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to as well—feel free to share in the comments.
A collage of images that I pounded out to avoid a few moments of boredom this morning.
There’s a song by Iggy Pop on his under-appreciated, early 1980s, return-to-form album “New Values” entitled “ I’m Bored.” The first time I heard the song I thought I had stumbled upon my own personal anthem, written just for me. My self-importance notwithstanding, the song resonated because being bored is maybe the most difficult state a modern person can find themself in. Cue the “think-piece du jour” about the evils of smartphones, the internet, social media, etc etc etc… Its a fact that most of us cannot bear to be alone in our own heads for very long. The pacifying distraction of a devise in our hands, the doom scrolling; it all makes sense when we realize we all just hate to be bored. Bored for 5 minutes, bored at a traffic light, bored waiting for a coffee at Starbucks, bored at 3am when we can’t sleep.
I am am guilty as charged, of course. My mind races constantly. I am easily distracted. I spend much of my day by myself, working from and working in my little art studio. I also produce a podcast, I do improv, I make collages, I burn negatives, I melt wax and paint it on my pictures. I listen to podcasts, I look at Instagram, I listen to Spotify while barely paying attention to the songs that blare all day long. I go down rabbit holes on YouTube. All of this while answering endless emails and doing Zoom calls, and writing scripts and reviewing ads and crunching budgets for my job.
However, it is my challenge in the coming year to sit in my boredom when it arises. Listen to my mind when is races, stripping away the distractions that make that inner voice drown away. It can seem as a form of meditation, or self torture, but it is something I need to reconcile, or at least accept. “Alright, doll face, come on and bore me.”
My grandfather (on my mother’s side) was probably the earliest influence for my budding interest in film. He did not do anything intentionally to motivate me, but some of my earliest memories include his hovering around the rest of the family with a home movie camera. Years later, after he died, I was given his movie camera; my family figured out I’d probably be the only one with any use or interest in it.
I had no idea what kind of film this camera took, or really if it still worked after 40 years. Thankfully, some online sleuthing led me to the fantastic folks at the Film Photography Project. There I learned the camera used something called 8mm magazine film; sort of like Super 8 on steroids.Taking advantage of their film / process / scan service bundle, I decided to roll the dice and shoot a cartridge of film to see if the camera still worked. Lo and behold…it did!
My interest in moving images has blossomed over the past couple of years. I’ve been working with public domain footage and actual 16mm educational films to create new work via collage and re-photgraphy. The chance to shoot actual movie film myself seemed the logical next step. I’ve long been drawn to the film work of Robert Frank, and I particularly loved how he would print collages from his strips of movie footage. I have the luxury of doing my post-production work digitally, with Photoshop and Lightroom being my main conduits for manipulating and assembling my collages.
By picking and choosing which frames I want to use, I am able to juxtapose the 16 frames per second to provide ample “moments” to cull and combine with other frames. These images then get stacked into (currently) quadrants that I hope make some kind of connection for the viewer. The certainly keep me engaged and curious about what might emerge when you release one single image from it’s sequence and force it to work in another context. In essence, I am forcing moving images to act more like still photography. A challenge and a game of chance that I have thus far been intrigued by and motivated to do more of.
Time spent in my studio has allowed me to go deeper into my explorations of collage and encaustics. Combining these elements in book form, I’ve been taking steps further away from “straight photography” yet my work is still firmly entrenched in the photographic realm. I have been fascinated by found, vernacular photographs, which dovetails nicely with my recent forays into the world of public domain movie footage. I love creating new narratives by using images I didn’t originally create. To that end, I’ve been using my materials to instill a sense of nostalgia and memory into these handmade books. The “object” is the key here. To fully engage with the book itself; to feel the wax on the page, to see, up close, the burns, the tape, the scars. I shared examples of this work on new gallery pages on this website. I hope you spend some time checking it out. Maybe spill some candle wax on your phone to get the true feeling of the work (just kidding.)
I have been to Sicily numerous times, and each time I arrive in the capital of Palermo, I feel inspired to make photographs. The city is alive certainly; but at the same time, shows it age and history through the layers you can find simply by walking down the street. Here are a few images from my latest trip.
