Genesis of A Portrait Project

In May of 2022, I attended the Photo Creators Conference in Tuscon, Arizona. I went to sharpen my skills as a professional photographer. Pre-pandemic, I often attended workshops like this one. Still, due to travel restrictions and volatility around the wedding industry, my last trip of this nature was to WPPI in Feb. 2020, a week before Covid started making national headlines. 

During WPPI, I was contemplating doing a personal art project that could help me stay inspired as an artist and serve my community. I have notes scribbled in my notebook about possibly doing portraits of LGBTQIA+ youth, like my son. I came home and pitched my idea to Tyler, who was hesitant. The next week the world changed forever, and my passion project was just a footnote from a photo conference. 

Fast forward to The Photo Creators Conference, where I found myself in a class taught by Chris Orwig, a photographer, author, educator, and all-around good human. Now, I honestly had never heard of him before, but I was deeply impressed by his ability to draw emotion and conversation out of his photographic subjects. He asked me about my bright red hair as an example of how he does this.

He said simply, " Your hair is red; what's that all about?"

To which I remarked off the cuff, "I dunno, it's my favorite color; it's the color of my soul." 

Chris got an inquisitive look on his face and a small smile and replied, "Souls have colors??"

"Yes." I said emphatically, "Don't you think your soul has a color?" I smiled. 

People from the group began offering up their "soul colors," and the idea stuck with me. Maybe we all have a particular color that resonates with our innermost self. Maybe, that color can help us understand the variety and complexity of others outside binary ideas of self-expression. Maybe, just maybe, we are all more lovely than our cultural norms would suggest. 

I don't think Chris knows how his question changed my life, but I'm grateful for it. From that moment on, ideas began percolating. When I came home, I had already reached out to my friend Scott Provo to discuss the collaboration that would become The Soul Colors Project. 

Mission Statement

I want everyone I photograph to feel seen, understood, and beautiful. I want these portraits to be a creative and vivid expression of each person's soul. Then I want their stories to touch viewers and help cultivate greater understanding. 

When my son told me he was gay, he was barely 15. We attend The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints; we are Mormons. The struggles my church had been dealing with publically around LGBTQ issues suddenly became very personal. I didn't for a minute worry my son was doomed to hell, but I did feel thrown in the middle of a hotly debated political issue, and I wanted to protect him from anyone that would hurt him. Suddenly I felt like the place that I worshiped each week might be a damaging environment for my child. I was scared that friends would become aggressors. Luckily, my fears were unfounded, and friends and family rallied around us with love and support. I learned quickly that because our church friends and neighbors knew him, they loved him for who he was, no matter his sexuality.  It was a perfect example of how being acquainted with real LGBTQIA+ people breaks down stereotypes, political ideology, and hatred. 

Since not all of us will become parents of two queer kids (we also have a non-binary teen), exposure to diverse people can be difficult when living in a homogenous culture. The Soul Colors Project is about representation and outreach to people who otherwise might not know someone who identifies as queer. It's also for those trying to find where they fit in a rainbow of humanity so they can feel peace and self-acceptance.