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This photographic essay documents the violence due to the drug war in Mexico in 2008.  The story, was completed over a period of 6 months, mostly in the notorious barrios of Tepito and Nezahualcoytl in Mexico City.  However, in October, I also visited Juarez where, with the help of local journalists was able to document just a fraction of the rampant violence that has turned the border town into a war zone. 

The work produced in Tepito focuses on the prevalence of the worship of Santa Muerte (Saint Death) in this tough Mexican drug barrio.  Tepito is a neighborhood where access is closely guarded and police are not allowed to patrol, except on 2 days of the week.  On those 2 days, Tepito is a ghost town.  On the other 5 days of the week, Tepito is one of the biggest black markets in Latin America.  It is also home to many street gangs whom sell drugs openly on the street, and abusers who use openly as well.  However, one day a month, Tepito comes to a standstill and gangsters from different crews try to put up with each other to all worship Saint Death.  Most of the imagery from Tepito was gathered on these worshipping days, although there were several attempts to shoot on other days, which often failed.  Although I was within inches of several gang fights in Tepito, I really only felt my life directly threatened on one occasion.  The occasion was when I was talking to a man that I had photographed the week before, only this time, he was obviously high on glue.  All of a sudden, he forgot who I was completely and I started getting dragged to a back alley by the over 6 foot tall behemoth.  I joked my way out of the situation and finally got him to remember me, and somehow managed to hide my fear which would have certainly lead to a much worse situation if he would have read the fear on my face.  Tepito is a scary place. 

The next leg of this story was shot over a 2 month period riding along on graveyard night shifts with the Nezahualcoyotl municipal paramedics.  To me, this was a very personal story, as my father is a paramedic and I was planning on being one for many years, before falling into photojournalism.  I really wanted to show the heroism of these guys, and honestly wasn't initially planning on including it in a violence or drug war piece.  But, after working with them over a period of time, it became evident that this rampant gang and drug violence is something they must deal with on a regular basis, and the photography included itself whether I liked it or not.  I gained access to many of these scenes of violence because of the amazing paramedics I was with.  They took me in, gave me a Paramedic jacket, which easily hid my Leica and my identity as a foreign journalist, and walked me right through any trouble to get me close so I could witness what was happening.  I owe them everything, including my safety, as on several occasions, they ushered me quickly out when things got heavy. 

The last leg of my journey for this story took me to Juarez on an assignment for Esquire Mexico to cover the out of control violence due to the drug war.  I spent a total of 3 days 2 nights in Juarez and saw more than enough fear and death.  The town has been completely militarized with the presence of thousands of federal troops who parade through the streets in broad daylight with fingers on the trigger.  The ironic thing is, that the mayhem in Juarez, (estimates put drug related murders in Mexico in 2008 at between 4000 and 6000, with the largest percentage in Juarez) is a direct result of the many "successes" of Mexico's US backed war on drugs.  Things in Juarez quickly spiraled out of control when the military successfully assassinated or incarcerated many of the heads of the major cartels, which lead to a turf war between more minor players, and a total disaster.  I owe the work in this essay from Juarez to my fixer, a local photographer who will remain un-named, as he connected me with what I needed under a very tough deadline and in direct threat of his own life.

"I am a human being first, a journalist second, and a photographer third."

"The journey is the destination."

I feel like these two quotes, the first is one I heard in a journalism class taught by Jeff Vendzel at San Francisco State University, the second by Stanley Greene in a class in Mexico City, are things that sum up who I try to be in my professional career and my personal life. 

I am not a photojournalist that tries to stay detached from my subjects.  I feel like the very idea of doing so is disgusting, callous and unrealistic.  I prefer to engage my subjects and experience their lives with them, so far as I can, to help me understand and share their stories.

My big projects often end up as such without my forethought or realization.  I document things and people of interest to me, and later often find that they are parts of the same bigger puzzle.  For me, using too much forethought or pre-visualization only clouds what is right in front of your face, which is the real story.

I studied photojournalism at San Francisco State University, where I was fortunate to be surrounded by some of the most amazing and inspiring photographers I have ever and will ever know.  I count myself lucky to have come out of school with Justin Mott, Justin Maxon, Darcy Holdorf and Kristina Barker, who all push me to this day.

I was fortunate to be awarded several of college's top honors for my student work in 2007 by organizations such as CPOY and the Hearst Foundation. 

After graduation, in this jobless market, I found myself wandering aimlessly around Mexico in my yellow 71 VW Baja Bug with close friends and my closest family, my dog Oscar.

I settled in Mexico City because I am a city boy at heart, where I have been working with Esquire Mexico on several stories.  My work has also recently been published in Newsweek, The Wall Street Journal, and Photo District News, among others. 

I dream of living in Oaxaca one day, owning an old rusty 4x4 and having at least 4 dogs and 2 children.