After it dies, the Ironwood tree can stand for one thousand years, so dense and toxic that it is unable to rot. 

          Chemicals in a dark heartwood.

          This land on which I was born and where I returned to live after nearly two decades of separation is not as I 

          remembered through a child's eyes. The desert is beautiful, this I knew. But this beauty is steeped in – even 

          dependent on – violence. The desert preserves or it consumes with finality – both objects and ways of life.

          Perhaps this is true of all nature, and particularly environments upon which humans impose themselves. But 

          somehow in the desert, the violence is closer, more tactile.

          These photos are an exploration of the land and people of Southern Arizona, a collection of chance encounters 

          as I search for connection and a deeper understanding of this place.

Desert Dispatch

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