When I was a kid, I remember a nighttime ride in the backseat of the car with my family. We lived in a city that was really spread out, necessitating a great deal of driving. On these nights, I'd lean my head against the window and stare at the stars and the buildings as they blurred by. One night, I spotted a line of slow-twinkling red lights way off in the distance. At six years old, I had no idea they were safety lights for a radio tower array. In my six-year-old mind, those lights were a beacon to something larger than myself — a call I wouldn't understand until much later in life.
Those enigmatic red lights still evoke a profound sense of wonder and enchantment in me. Their frequent sightings in my childhood sparked a connection I couldn't have explained at the time, but it stuck.
Light became a permanent part of my imagination, shaping my thoughts and aspirations throughout my life. Christmas lights, in particular, left an indelible impression. Any toy with a blinking light is a must-have possession, even today. The ethereal glow of the cathode ray tube on our old television, the star fields and meteors I watched from our rural home on clear nights, my first laser light show, every flashlight I've ever owned — each one has been remarkable to me. It's hard for me to shop online, honestly, because any flashlight I stumble across tests my resolve not to buy it. I have friends who worry about my obsession.
The allure of illuminated objects has captivated me my whole life, which is probably why I love the winter holidays so much. December 21st holds real significance for me — the day of the coming of the light, symbolized by both the Jewish festival of lights, Hanukkah, and the celestial majesty of the Christmas "north star."
Back to my childhood… enter video games. Mesmerizing. When I was thirteen, “Tron” was released (a cinematic masterpiece)! I was instantly captivated by that celluloid universe — I watched the movie three days in a row that summer, before starting high school, at a charming but rundown theater in downtown Sugar Land, Texas. (I'll give you one guess what they made in Sugar Land.) The light cycles and the giddy adventure of that film spurred me into various creative pursuits: music, theater, photography.
As a kid in the 1980s, neon became a mainstay of my imagination. I can't pinpoint the exact sign that first captivated me, but it was during my teenage years that the fascination took hold — those mesmerizing glass tubes emitting their captivating light. Neon is a unique phenomenon: analog, vibrant, an eternal testament to life itself, because light never stops. Neon is even a recognized element on the periodic table — number 10. Neon is pure unto itself.
Fast forward to 2020. The world was gripped by a global pandemic, in case you haven't heard. At the time, I lived alone, spending months in isolation with my best friend, a beautiful grey tuxedo cat named Hoople Head, who kept me sane. After watching everything on Netflix — and I mean everything — the monotony of solitary existence left me desperate to get outside. I needed to escape the world coming undone. I'd long wanted to photograph the vibrance of neon lights but never made the time.
But guess what? During COVID, I finally had the time. I'm a night owl by nature, so the night is my happy place. Free time plus night plus neon became the new bliss. I bought a good camera and a tripod and spent countless nights photographing neon signs. My city is full of vintage, breathtaking neon tubes, and combining my love for it with my nighttime habits led to some amazing experiences. Over the next few months, I got better.
I started sharing my photos on social media, and then something completely unexpected happened: my work got noticed and loved by people all over the world. Within days, I'd gained hundreds of followers globally, including from Japan. A supermodel from London fawned over my work. I got messages and praise from complete strangers. I found a worldwide community that shared the same love I have. It's nice to be seen and appreciated.
In the beginning, I just wanted to take pictures and share them. My photos really resonated with people, and I realized I was onto something. Within a year, I'd developed my own style — high contrast, color mapping — which I'm still refining to this day. You can see the results on this site.
I thought about selling prints, but I wasn't sure they'd sell, or whether it was worth the effort. Then one day, I was at a fabulous neighborhood bar, owned by my friend and resplendent fellow performer, Laura Cross. Over coffee and hot dogs — they're famous for their hot dogs — I was doing one of my favorite things: staring at the wall. In my field of vision was a shimmering neon hot dog sign. As I stared at it, a ray of light hit my brain and I said out loud: "My photos should light up." Of course. OF COURSE THEY SHOULD. Other patrons thought I was crazy. But that’s how it happened.
As a career graphic designer, I had the technical skills — I got my start designing signage at an environmental design firm. After a few tries, I finally built a prototype I liked. The first time I showed it to anyone, they wanted to buy it. Then someone else wanted one. Then another, and another. They kept asking, "How much?"
Who am I to deny my fans I didn't even know I had? And now, here we are.
If you're reading this, you're seeing the result of a 50-year journey — from a little boy with a wild imagination to a hipster theater producer and neon photographer in Portland, Oregon, with a wild imagination. I'm fortunate and grateful to have had parents who supported my creativity. From the moment my mom caught me drawing Charlie Brown figures in the margins of books at age three, until this very day, she still supports me. I am not sure where I would be without her getting me colored pencils, endless sketch books and piano lessons. Most importantly though, where would I be without her unwavering belief in me that holds true to this day. I am truly blessed also to be surrounded by numerous lovely friends and collaborators who also believe in me.
I hope you enjoy my work. And I hope your inner light is calling you to do something you really want to do. I'll leave you with this thought: light never stops, never dies, and keeps going for billions of years. It doesn't weaken. It never falters. So dear friend or curious stranger, may your light never stop.
