When we moved into our studio I did not quite realize what a trip it would be. Most days I love it, but some days it tests my patience. It was built in 1869 and has had many lives before it met me. It was a mercantile, a tire shop, and a cash register shop to name a few. It took many many months to make it into our little studio. I owe a debt of gratitude to my dad for his tireless dedication to making a place for me and my camera. It was a great gift that was bestowed to me that would take me two lifetimes to repay. His whole life he has worked with his hands to build things for people, for mothers, for families, for sons. He taught me the value of using my hands. He doesn't complain. I try not to.