"I live and work in a part of Indianapolis where the city ends, suburbs begin, and farmland is still being picked off plot by plot (though there isn’t much left to pick). This intersection of 3 living styles makes for an interesting visual landscape.

One aspect of this landscape that I find fascinating is the use of fences. On farms fences are practical tools for keeping animals in or crops divided. In the suburbs and cities practical fences keep dogs and children in yards and out of streets. At this intersection of city, suburbs and country, fences seem to primarily exist to keep people apart, both physically and psychologically.

Neighborhoods hidden behind 6 feet tall solid fences, beautiful green space bordered by spike-topped metal fences, natural barriers “reinforced” with weak fences that would keep no one out (or in) but that shout “this space is mine and you are not welcome.” These all seem to be part of a culture of separateness that builds barriers to community instead of fostering it at a point where so many lives and lifestyles intersect. I find that interesting. And sad."

That's the introduction to The Fence Project. Last summer I become obsessed with this totally unnecssary fence that sprang up near my office. It made me look at how many fences dot the strange mixed used land that I see every day. Thus The Fence Project was born. It is the first of several projects I'm in various stages of work on.

I'm rapidly approaching 30, I don't feel engaged or excited at all about my job, I feel like I've been coasting in my life. Days, months, years have gone by and I've just been passive and let things happen to me instead of living deliberately. I don't want to do that anymore. Being creative, an artist if you will, in various forms makes me happy. Photography makes me extremely happy. Writing makes me extremely happy. So I'm being much more proactive and trying to make those two things a major part of my livelihood. That means taking some risks (like buying a $1000 camera and taking on a photography assignment I'm not quite sure I'm ready for) and realizing that I might fail. But the alternative just isn't an option for me anymore. Maintaing the status quo isn't an option.

I don't want to wake up in 30 years and say "Fuck, I've spent my entire adult life spending the majority of my time doing work that didn't engage or excite me or matter to me even in the least. I've spent the bulk of my waking hours making money for other people and wishing I was doing other things." I don't want to wake up in 30 years and say "I didn't even try."

I'm not under any illusions that I'm the most talented person on the block. I'm not under any illusion that people will automatically support whatever it is that I'm doing. I'm not under any illusion that success is guaranteed. But I work hard and I'm dedicated. I think hard work and dedication makes up a lot of people's "talent" more than we want to admit. I've got hard work, I've got dedication. I've got some dreams and if I don't start actively (and not just talking about them like I've done for the past 5 years) pursuing them then I never will. I can't explain it but I've got this feeling that this is my moment. My moment. My moment to start new things, my moment to start pursing dreams and goals, to start making changes for the better, to start living on purpose, living deliberately and not just watching days gone by. It's my moment and it's pretty damn exciting. Scary but damn exciting.