A fair bit of time before this little business of mine existed, the name & the story behind The Waldron Photograph Co. were being formed. See, Waldron is a little town in Arkansas where my mom & grandma were born, and after hearing story upon story about it, it had become near and dear to me simply by association. For quite some time I knew the name Waldron - and it's inherent story - would play a role in the things that I did; and thus, when I rebranded and refined my work early last year, The Waldron Photograph Co. was the result.

Before this past week, I had never seen Waldron in person. I had seen countless a picture and heard many a story, but had never made the trek to central Arkansas to experience it first hand. After all, Waldron isn't exactly a tourist destination; just barely three thousand folks call it home and it's way off the beaten path. But to me, it obviously holds certain meaning (and, I adore Arkansas in general - the geography, the unassuming quaintness, and the unique charisma it manages to keep.)

So, I drove to Waldron. It was a solo trip, on which I make it a point to embark once a year or so. It's about a seven hour drive through some of the most underrated terrain in the country, which, by nature, translates into more like a twelve hour drive for a person like me (read: constant stopping & picture making.)

When I finally arrived, I was a bit taken aback by the immediate value this place possessed to me, though unseen until now. I followed a red dirt road to the place my grandma grew up - a township called Jones Creek, I sat down and did some research on my heritage, and I met some locals who gave me quite the history lesson. More than anything, I was grateful... overwhelmingly (and somewhat unexpectedly) so. Grateful for those that came before me. Grateful for THEIR stories. Grateful for my own story. And grateful for the gift of places & exploration.