On a narrow road jutting off a rural highway in Central Louisiana is a massive detention center, tucked behind towering pine trees in aptly named Pineville, Louisiana. Rising nearly as high are rows and rows of barbed wire fences with watchtowers placed every few hundred feet. Besides the flags flapping in the wind, the only […]Read More Dispatches from the Deep South
Back in early March during a brief meeting of our Marketing and Communication staff to gameplan for our March Madness coverage, we said to ourselves, “Wouldn’t it just be great if they win that first round game?”
For Loyola to make the tournament at all was historic—this was their first trip since 1985—so the decision was for me to travel with the team, documenting what it was like for Loyola’s first team in 33 years to go to the tournament.Read More Access to the Madness
Instead of seeing selfies as the end of civilization and Millennials (side note: there is empirical evidence that shows that no generation takes more selfies than another, so, let’s stop blaming Millennials for selfies.) as harbingers of societal disaster, it makes more sense to understand the process of taking selfies as just another means of communication.Read More The Language of Selfies
Another big non-conference game against an established football powerhouse, another Badger loss.Read More Bama Beats Badgers
In the grand ballroom of the Austin Country Club a crowd of pre-teen boys and girls lightly hold each other’s shoulders and waists and move to the classic music of the waltz. The dancers’ lanky limbs maintain a safe distance from the opposite sex while everyone tries not to step on any toes. Girls are […]Read More A Pre-Teen’s Ball
Though I’ve produced quite a few videos over the years, I feel like I’m still new to the medium. Before my advanced video class this fall, I had always approached video as just an extension of my stills—which is probably why I always hated my videos. I decided during the class to get rid of […]Read More Sight Unseen
Rollingwood Police Officer Josh Odom stands on the edge of Dry Creek on a dreary rain-soaked afternoon.
“This weather sucks,” Odom, 25, mumbles.
The spray from passing vehicle tires adds to the steady stream of water flowing into the creek. The quiet whoosh of water begins to run through the storm drains flowing north beneath Bee Caves Road.
“It doesn’t take much for this thing to get going,” Odom says, pointing at the silver tubes spewing rainwater into the creek.Read More A Watery Dry Creek