east coast autumn [video journal]
chickaloon [video journal]
please don't stop the music
Beauty in Landscape
January 8, 2019 - I don't share most of the photos I take. I wanted them to feel like they were part of something bigger. A couple months ago, I cut a video together with my favorite film photos I've taken over the past year.
The man speaking is the late John O'Donohue in an interview with Krista Tippett, two of my favorite thinkers.
If landscape has had a profound impact on you, I think you'll understand what John means.
Bloody Mary
A short film I wrote with Kira and Kailyn for the Alaska 5-Day Film Royal.
Winner of the Audience Choice Award!
We Are Changed
a journey with the canvas
![Screen Shot 2023-07-18 at 3.41.23 PM-min.png](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/584a1ae8cd0f68ddbf00a1f4/1691010727502-6IB30X8YZKV1M8XOZF6W/Screen+Shot+2023-07-18+at+3.41.23+PM-min.png)
![Screen Shot 2023-07-18 at 3.40.56 PM-min.png](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/584a1ae8cd0f68ddbf00a1f4/1691010720315-IT2D5TB6GPRNK3EIDSHZ/Screen+Shot+2023-07-18+at+3.40.56+PM-min.png)
![Screen Shot 2023-07-18 at 3.39.32 PM-min.png](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/584a1ae8cd0f68ddbf00a1f4/1691010721150-85PJQUPF34JBNWUOGY2J/Screen+Shot+2023-07-18+at+3.39.32+PM-min.png)
Traveling Through Thailand & Cambodia
Remnants of the Tide
Setting The Pace
A 5 Episode Web Series I created for The Alaska Club in 2019. Full episodes on their Youtube.
Olive.
Memory Lane by Sarah Wheeler
Submission for Button Poetry Video contest. Poetry by Sarah Wheeler (www.sarahwheelerpoetry.com/) and visuals by Sarah and myself.
Wild Geese (Mary Oilver) Read by David Whyte
found within the yieldings of this transient space
there’s this disconnect between external image and internal experience; between society's appraisal of your status and activity, the lens of their specific criterion, and the richness of your experiential reality, where u feel u are at any moment in life, in the dusky blooming of the sun during some turning of the earth into a boundless dark, or the woods wreathed in an evening mist swimming past in ecstasy while you drive down a deserted lane; the ecstatic vibrations of new productions, the laughter echoing on an autumn air, tree leaves falling in spirals with such fluidity likening the air to water; forever spasms, the unreal real readily seized by sensitivity, the truth beyond all truths, the only thing that might be made still, utterly found within the yieldings of this transient space.
-Stephen Puckett Humphrey