01/10/2026
I spent many summers on my grandfather’s farm in rural western Kentucky, and those memories still shape my work today. One of the things I remember most fondly are the little country stores that were the heartbeat of farming communities in the 1950s.
You could get nearly anything there—hardware, feed, grain, ammunition, even guns. Farmers stopped in not only for everyday staples but to market their own freshly grown garden vegetables. Lunch was even available from what we’d now call a deli case in the store.
More than anything, those stores were where people gathered. You caught up on local news, traded stories, and played checkers on rainy days when no one could be out in the fields.
My piece Crossroads Store is a tribute to that world. I build the image much like a painting, slowly layering elements until the scene feels right. Every part of it comes from photographs I’ve taken over my 46-year career, combined into a place that exists only in my memory. If I don’t have the photo I need, I create the element graphically, or go out and shoot new images to fit my specs. In the end an image is developed almost like a painting would have been.
I don’t use AI or anyone else’s imagery—just my own archives, my hands, and my 78-year-old brain, which this process helps keep sharp.
