My grandfather took me blackberry picking along the property's edge. We carried gallon ice cream tubs, stained from years of foraging. I was never able to fill mine even halfway. For every berry I picked for the tub, I rewarded two for myself. He told me the most delectable blackberries grew elusively high; far too high for the reach of fervent 10 year-olds. He then teased me by picking a rich, plump blackberry the size of my thumb, letting me taste what I could not reach. A cruel joke to me at the time but now I can't help but smile thinking of this memory.

He passed away on August 15th battling Leukemia.

He was a strong, traditional man who valued honor and integrity. He taught me accountability, reverence, and how to shoot. But he was generous with a loving heart, and always willing to help when asked.

'Blackberries' is a visual conversation between my grandfather and I; documenting the property he and my grandmother called home since the 70s, as well as surrounding Corvallis, Oregon.