“Is this the right place?” I asked Jean, as we pulled up.

“I don’t know. What was the address again?”

“I don’t remember. Funk said it was at Wabansia and Elston. Right across from the Hideout.”

“That’s the Hideout.”

“That’s the Hideout? ”

“Yeah. But there’s nothing across from it. Call him again.”

Turns out the party, a Pitchfork Festival afterparty, was diagonal from the Hideout, in one of those warehouse-to-loft conversions, with a rooftop deck. On the deck, it was nice and coolish, for a balmy summer night with little breeze in the city supposedly famous for its wind. But inside, on the building’s second floor, where three bands played to a BYOB crowd of 200-odd twenty-something hipsters, it was really fucking hot.

To see the series, click here or on the image.


The cabin by the lake

July 22, 2008

Mosquitos and beer and the smell of old wood. Two fishing skiffs tied together, middle of a small lake, middle of a still-bright night, too many stars, trying to see distant fireworks above the trees. Fourth of July in the Northwoods of Wisconsin.

I haven’t been up north since my ski racing days in college. I forgot the sheer beauty of the middle of nowhere. My mistake.

To see the series, click here or on the image.

Lately, I have been shooting regular daily coverage. So, while I try to find myself a project that interests me, I decided to put together a slideshow explaining how I approach my daily work, the life of a newspaper freelancer in Midwestern suburbia.

To see the series, click here or on the image.