Born West of Texaco

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I ride the backroads with a camera slung over my shoulder, chasing light the way some chase trouble. My work lives where dust, rust, and memory collide—photography that feels like it could have been pulled straight from a forgotten roll of film found in the glovebox of an old truck.

Motorcycles are more than transport—they’re part of the story. Two wheels cut cleaner than four, and the road looks different when you’re eating the wind. That raw, outlaw rhythm shows up in my images too: stripped down, unpolished, honest.

This space is where all of it converges—the work, the rides, the grit, and the sparks.