A few weeks ago spring began to unveil itself in New York. Coats turned into light jackets, scarves disappeared completely and people started to actually smile, or at least muster a smirk, but the most important thing was that the flowers began to bloom and with that came the most breathtaking lily's I have ever seen. There was something so unfathomably heart gripping about these specific lilies that I came back the day after passing by them on Bedford to purchase for myself.

At that point they went on to sit in my living room for several days with me staring at them in a deep trance. They weren't pretty and they weren't beautiful, they were more than that. They had grace and elegance, an intoxication to them that was dangerous and you couldn't resist yourself from the temptation. But there was also a sadness about them. A melancholy that would start to creep in your chest. You would feel your heart beat heavier and before you knew it your mind was washed over with an addiction to learning their every curve, the anatomy of their poetic construction, memorizing the exact mixture of oxblood, purple and black that created their addictive essence.

Days were lost to this obsession until I finally tore myself away and moved forward with approaching a way to photograph these sirens.

They are on their last days now, wilting in the windowsill struggling to keep their necks held high but their essence and this photographic study of them has inspired a new direction.

Something darker, deeper and mesmerizingly addictive.

A few months back when I was figuring out how to spend my weekend a friend of mine (you know who you are) told me that she was going to church on Sunday. I didn't take her for the religious type or at least the type that was willing to get out of bed before noon on your two days off. When I asked what church she went to she laughed and said that she meant the MET.

Apparently this girl had been spending her Sunday for the past few weeks wandering around the glory that is the MET. She called it church for artists. Now this may not seem like a very big deal to you but to me it was everything. Why had I not been going to the MET every Sunday? Or Chelsea galleries on Saturdays? What was I spending my weekends doing all this time???

So now as you can see the MET has become a part of my regular weekend routine, something I recommend every artist do. To know your past is to be able to understand what your future can become. At the very least go check it out because of these 5 reasons:

1) It's "pay as you wish" aka free, if you wish.

2) The lighting in the Greek section in the afternoon is to. die. for.

3) Egyptian tombs are cool. Egyptian mummies in tombs are even cooler.

4) Even if you hate art the MET has the best rooftop in the city an yes, they serve alcohol up there.

5) Because if you live in New York and haven't been to the MET you have no idea what you're missing out on.

The Sweet Scent

Flower Study

Church for Artists