For the last couple of years, nearly every month between May and November, I wake up at 3am and drive to the beach.
I live in Richmond, Virginia, about two hours west of Virginia Beach, depending on traffic. In the early morning hours before dawn, traffic is sparse. I like to be on the road by four, hitting the Wawa in Newport News on the way for shitty coffee and a breakfast sandwich, so I arrive oceanside by sunrise. I park in the metered spots at the 1st Street jetty, free before 10am, anxious to hit the sand before the sun breaks horizon.
I am hoping for surfers. It’s usually an unrewarded hope before August; decent surf doesn’t really happen at Virginia Beach until late summer into the fall. It’s always worth the drive though, to watch the sky turn lavender then magenta then yellow, before becoming the bright cerulean of midday. In July, I brought along a tiny surfer of my own—Barbie in her sporty yellow one-piece lugging her signature pink board.
I haven’t shot much portraiture this year. Although I’ve always dabbled, I’ve never really felt like a portrait photographer, usually gravitating towards documentary subjects. This year I’ve leaned into that heavily, focusing on rodeos, the tattoo stories series, some surf and skate and nature photography. Closeup shots of moss and mushrooms helped me learn the macro capabilities of my currents lenses, which came in handy when my lifelong love of the plastic princess turned into a full-scale exploration of how to make Barbie fill the frame the way a person would. I want her to feel alive in the images, to be captured with a sense of emotion and humanity. As always, it’s a process. I try something, I try something else. The waves this day were dismal for hot-blooded surfers, but perfect for Barb.
The photos in this post were shot on Lomography Metropolis 35mm film and are unedited, except for a basic color correction the lab does when they scan the film. Thank you for reading, you’re beautiful.