A Creative Journey Through Music, Photography, and Memory
A Life Shaped by Music
I grew up playing music—piano lessons, drums, then the guitar.
The guitar was the instrument that felt right. It spoke to me. It gave me a creative outlet to explore my own voice, my identity as an artist, and eventually, a career path that would become my life’s work.
From Touring Musician to a New Creative Chapter
After decades of playing guitar, writing poetry and songs, recording albums, logging endless miles of touring, and teaching guitar students—both in person and online, from my studio to hotel rooms—I stepped off the road of constant touring and entered a new chapter. One that opened the door to new ways of creating.
A Lifetime of Untold Stories
I’ve always written.
Even though I’m dyslexic and never considered myself a writer, I wrote anyway—and I kept everything. I have boxes and boxes of writing that stretch back to my early teens. Throughout my career, I’ve collected countless stories. For a touring musician, they’re just daily life. For people who’ve never lived in constant motion, those same stories have brought tears, laughter, sorrow, and sometimes disbelief.
Telling my stories has always come easily.
Writing them has felt hard.
Discovering Photography as a New Form of Expression
As a performing artist, I’ve spent most of my life in front of the camera rather than behind the lens. Photography has always fascinated me, but the mechanics of it remained a mystery. If something intrigues me, I can’t help but follow the thread, so over the past seven years I’ve been exploring photography and video—first for my guitar lessons, and now as a form of personal expression.
Traveling and seeing the world has shaped my life.
Finding the image that tells the story hasn’t always been easy.
Vulnerability Is the Real Beginning of Any Creative Journey
It’s time to face a simple truth: if I want to write my story, capture the images that frame it, and create a soundscape that weaves it all together, the journey has to begin now. It’s not about camera gear, notebooks, a studio, or even time. It’s about vulnerability—and the willingness to begin something that feels daunting.
Showing Up Every Day Matters More Than Perfection
Just like learning an instrument, or learning how to teach, showing up matters. Each day you get a little better. You learn something. You gain confidence. I’m committing to posting one photo each day, writing a few meaningful lines, and sharing them. My goal is to get 1% better every day—not just at my craft, but at discovering who I am through writing and through what I see. Not just through the lens, but through imagination.
Leaving Breadcrumbs Through Daily Creation
Learning is the easy part.
Being vulnerable enough to try is the hard part.
Each daily Instagram post creates the breadcrumbs.
Each weekly blog post begins to frame the story.
Each monthly Substack article explores what I’m discovering.
An Invitation to Begin Your Own Journey of Discovery
This year is a journey of discovery. I’ve waited a lifetime to begin this process. Thank you for reading—and for being part of what I find. I invite you to take this journey with me. Not just to follow what I create, but as an invitation to choose something you’ve been waiting to explore—and begin.
My Old Fender Stratocaster – January 1, 2026
I begin the year in black and white.
I look forward to the colors I’ll find.
Why black and white?
In late 2025, I read Just Kids by Patti Smith. It felt like a book I’d waited a lifetime to read. I had no idea the depth of her work—her poetry, her storytelling, her photography, her cinematography. It introduced me to her artistry in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
If you think of Patti Smith only as a punk rock artist from New York, that alone is enough—but I encourage you to explore her work more deeply. Brilliant.
Just Kids is her story of life, friendship, and artistic devotion with Robert Mapplethorpe—their relationship, their shared becoming, their journey as artists. Robert was, without question, one of the most brilliant artists of modern time. Robert Mapplethorpe was to the camera what Jimi Hendrix was to the guitar.
Make no mistake—I’m here to learn from these artists and to honor their work by applying what I learn to my own exploration.
Jimi Hendrix Bronze Statue – January 2, 2026
When I was a baby, this was the last thing my mother could have imagined for me.
Yet on my 40th birthday, she gave me a bronze statue of Jimi Hendrix.
Not as a symbol—but as recognition.She loved me for who I was.
She never tried to change me.
For those familiar with my work as a guitarist, Jimi Hendrix was who I tried to embody as a teenager. His influence stayed with me throughout my life and career.
My mother was a classically trained pianist. She recognized my love for music and understood my need to learn by ear—because reading notes on a page was difficult for me due to dyslexia. She never made it an issue. She simply understood.
So when I turned 40, I wasn’t surprised—but I was deeply moved—to receive that statue from her. Mounted on a marble base, it remains a centerpiece on my shelf and a reminder that all you really need is a dream and someone who believes in you. With those two things, anything is possible.
A Full Moon Appeared Tonight – January 3, 2026
A full moon appeared tonight.
I captured it so I could share it.
I’ve always wanted to photograph the sky. After thousands of miles on the road and countless late nights driving through the middle of nowhere, past city lights, I remember thinking—the ceiling isn’t as high out here. The sky always felt closer.
Now I finally have a camera and lens that let me capture it. I plan to travel this year. I want to photograph everything I can.
Where it all began – January 4, 2026
Where it all began.
My first guitar lesson notebook—kept by Eddie Beckley, the teacher who changed everything.
After my father passed in late 2024, I pulled boxes from storage and found the old yellow spiral notebook I carried to guitar lessons every week. Eddie Beckley was one of a kind. I don’t think I would have learned to play without him.
He met me exactly where I was—and pushed me toward where I said I wanted to go. He was hard on me. He never offered praise. But one night at a jam session, I caught him smiling while I played. He didn’t know I saw it.
Some Boots You Never Get Rid Of – January 5, 2026
Some boots you never get rid of—even if you don’t wear them anymore.
They’re part of the journey.
Some stories are inked in time. Louisville, Kentucky. 1997. A snowstorm. I bought Angie Jones’ boots for $45—pole climbers, the shoemaker said. The kind that never wear out, just need re-soling every million miles or so.
A Rolling Coffin Guitar Case – January 6, 2026
A rolling coffin guitar case with rollerblade wheels bolted to a 2×4.
Dragged up stairs, down sidewalks, through alleys, freight elevators, mud, and grass.
It never left my side.
It’s always a conversation starter—rolling in with a coffin case, an old Fender Stratocaster, biker boots, a leather jacket, and a Starbucks venti latte with five shots of espresso. Some things just belong together in an odd kind of way.
I Like Angels – January 7, 2026
I like angels.
I feel something greater—in my fingertips when I play,
in the wind against my face,
in moments when I drift, disappear,
and realize I’ve been staring out a window,
knowing somewhere angels play.
There must be angels. I’m still here.
I’m not superstitious. I’m not religious. I’m practical.
There must be angels. I’m still here.
This wraps up week one. I’ve written. I’ve taken photos. I launched a new website. I entered a new year. But most importantly—I got to spend another Christmas with my mom.
Dreams are a journey, not a destination.
They never turn out the way we imagine them.
And that might be the best part.
Lastly, if this resonates, I recently reflected on gratitude, teaching, and the lessons music continues to offer me as a new year begins—something I shared more fully here. That reflection became another quiet marker along this journey—one rooted in music, presence, and appreciation for the path that led me here.
— k
Read About: A Musicians Creative Journey Journal Week Two
