THROUGH WEARING MANY HATS (photographer, store owner, influencer, event manager, strategist, or amateur event load-out champion), I’ve forged a unique and authentic perspective on how brands can build lifelong relationships with the intentional consumer. I’m always looking for the next opportunity to elevate and evolve alongside independent, mission-forward brands, with no fear to jump in and get my hands dirty.
The story starts with the admittance that I was (and always will be) a theater kid. If you didn’t figure that out for yourself — well, that’s the best testament, isn’t it? I was a shy little guy who needed an audience in front of him to flesh and figure out what was going on inside. Never one for memorizing lines word-for-word, I was often reminded that the most important part is just to “tell the story”. I have heard that voice from a dark empty playhouse in almost every move I’ve made since.
Upon learning that college would be a series of swings, bunts, and more strikes than I could imagine, a stint behind the scenes in professional theater pulled the curtain back to reveal a calling in telling the story, getting butts in seats, and believing hard enough to keep the doors open of a small business.
Tradewinds began to shift as my day job at a national grocery chain blew me into the pants world. Said grocery chain was acquired by the (then) biggest corporation in the world, while I was simultaneously learning my own priorities and preferences as a consumer with Big Boy Money. I met two home-grown homies in raw denim as I was blowing out the crotches of Old Navy stretch denim on a weekly basis. Coming from what I understood to be a small biz background, I dove in headfirst with them as a co-founder of what would become an online menswear retailer, that we coined Stockyard Supply. A pair of pants and a dream, baby.
I grew a small following on my personal Instagram page as I researched who exactly would spend $300 on a pair of jeans and have never really looked back. The store eventually moved West without me, but I stayed active with the small handful of brands in this weird little world, knowing that many of them lacked either the time, energy, or verbiage to say “hey, we’re better than what you can get shipped to you in one day”. I figured I might be a guy who could help to, well, tell that story.
Fast forward a few years later to a bread counter at said grocery store, where an unsuspecting customer asked if I was “the denim guy from the Internet” from the other side of the counter. That interaction would lead to a nearly decade-long growing-up-together story with American Field, a brand I respected deeply for their world-class pop-up marketplaces and holistic brand growth platform. I quickly moved from slicing bread to taking a front-row seat in the growth of 3,000 independent and innovative brands by putting on some of the most bad-ass events our team could imagine.
When the world shut down in 2020, I stepped back to refine some of the skills and experience the experiences I watched my network of brands navigate on the daily. After using my first stimulus check to buy my first real camera, I spent the shutdown dialing in the next level of how I’d (visually) tell the story. Despite a lifelong disinterest in the technical side of the gadget itself, I figured out my visual thumbprint pretty quickly, and fell in love with a new means to tell the story. My style is a reflection of my lifelong pursuit for the no-frills, down-to-earth and honest truth.
I would spend the three years in the heart of COVID freelancing under the amorphous umbrella of “SMALLHAND”, my marketing consultancy, working with and photographing for a wide gambit of small businesses in my beloved Pioneer Valley, refining the way they speak about what they do, and in some cases, what they believed they were capable of. These were deeply engaged and fulfilling times, ultimately ending with an understanding that, at that time, I was both a terrible boss and employee when I was forced to have one foot in each role. While I am wildly proud of my scrappiest of accomplishments in that era, I am prouder of following my instinct to turn the page when it was time.
In 2023 (what I lovingly refer to as my “Rodeo Era”), I took the reins as show-runner for AF’s Texas Bred market series, serving as the Hooper figure in a Jaws-esque team of three that coordinated pop-ups in Dallas, Austin, and Houston. We afforded the opportunity for over 20,000 individuals to stop and think about the way they spent their money that holiday season, as well as the opportunity to spend that cash with our micro-economy of 200 participating brands. Woof. That chapter was a big one.
One specific Texas trip and one rabid squirrel (long story) brought me to forge a partnership between AF and YETI, which would eventually lead to AF’s hand in kicking off store-in-store programming for YETI’s fleet of retail locations across the country. In 2024, I stepped away from the American Field’s day-to-day operations, while still serving in a hands-on advisory role. AF will always navigate the ever-changing retail landscape in the name of keeping your dollars in the hands of people who truly give a shit. Our purposes have always felt intertwined.
While growth, strategy, and economic impact have stayed at the top of my list of priorities, photography has melded into the core of who I am as a human. I cherish my seat in the photo bullpen for legacy brands like Field Notes, Dehen 1920, Danner Boots, and Freenote Cloth, who have generously trusted my vision over the years to tell their story from my perspective. I’ll find time for a headshot or a wedding here or there, too.
If you’re a fan of my work, keep an eye on the radar for infrequently-released photo prints and photo books, a passion project in the rare instances where there’s enough time in the day to deliver. To know what I’ve seen with my eyes might make it into your home is perhaps the wildest and fuzziest of feelings I’ve experienced in this mortal coil.
I live and work in Holyoke, Massachusetts, a historically-rich milltown, with my long-time partner Elaine and our pit-husky baby girl, Letty. My home and area in which my family lives are a foundational part of both my personal style and style as a photographer.
When I’m not thinking small biz strategy, I’m likely building up my digital reserves of Minions memes, daydreaming about chicken tenders, pursuing the perfect balance between fast and furious, or filling the air with (exclusively) run-on sentences.
As a parting shot, I’ll share the best advice I’ve ever gotten – make good choices, and always tell the story. Thanks for reading.
LF