Photo by Kenzie Bruce
Photo by Kenzie Bruce
Photo by Kenzie Bruce
Stories have shaped my entire life.
Some of my earliest memories are of watching my father, a newspaper photographer, work in the darkroom. I remember my amazement as images emerged in trays of chemicals, revealing moments, stories, memories saved. What looked like magic to me as a child became my life's work – finding the moments that matter and giving them a place to exist beyond themselves.
My father taught me something essential: meet people where they are, with love in your heart. In a world that often rushes to judgment, he approached everything and everyone with genuine respect and curiosity.
Whether through his photos or in our shared woodshop where he patiently guided my hands on the lathe, he showed me that great work emerges from this place of respect – for the craft, for the story, and most importantly, for the people whose lives we touch.
I was born an idealist. Still am.
I believe stories are what give us the ability to keep going. They make us feel. I love when a story makes you cry. When you're so invested in what you're experiencing that it draws emotion from deep within you. Stories connect us with others and they connect us with ourselves.
Especially now, as we live increasingly distracted lives, with so much artificial and disposable media, stories that elicit genuine feeling matter more than ever. This isn't abstract theory. It's concrete reality. Stories matter to everything – politics, social change, environmental action. They shape how a person approaches challenges, what they believe they're capable of in all aspects of life. The story you tell yourself is your truth.
For almost 30 years, I've told stories in one way or another. I love the front-row ticket to life that storytelling provides. Being present for both celebrations and heartache. Turning toward the painful, complicated and joyous… all at the same time.
My path has taken me from photojournalism to documentary filmmaking, from newsrooms to disaster zones to flower fields. At The Oregonian, I was part of a team that won the Pulitzer Prize for Breaking News. It was there I learned that technical excellence matters, but emotional connection matters more. Later, as the Visuals Editor, I guided other storytellers, helping them find their unique voices.
As Creative Director at Blue Chalk Media, I directed hundreds of projects while developing the company's human-centered take on filmmaking. One project, "Growing Floret," earned three Daytime Emmy nominations and allowed me to explore environmental storytelling while refining my approach to long-form documentary work.
While accolades are meaningful recognition, what really drives me is when a story makes a difference – to the subject, to the audience, to the mission.
In 2023, I joined Floret as Executive Producer, where my work focused on connecting the natural world with the themes of determination, resilience and empowerment.
Photo by Jesse Crowell
One of my most meaningful projects was "Gardening in a War Zone," a documentary about Alla Olkhovska, a Ukrainian gardener who continued cultivating rare clematis varieties while living under missile attacks in Kharkiv. The film showed how beauty is not just a luxury but a necessity during the darkest times – a testimony to the human spirit and a refusal to surrender hope.
Throughout my career, one of my great joys has been mentoring others. Whether at industry workshops, university lectures, or just trying to be helpful to my coworkers and friends, I've tried to pass on what I've learned: that the best stories come from listening more than speaking, watching more than directing, and finding the emotional truth at the heart of each one.
I live in Portland, Oregon with my wife Fran and our two children, Alcina and Seamus. Much of my time is spent on various sidelines, cheering for them at track meets, soccer and volleyball games and just trying the best I can to be a good parent. When time allows, I retreat to my workshop, continuing a woodworking tradition my father and I shared. In his final years, we spent a lot of time in that small shop – a sacred space where we connected through the shared language of creating something from nothing.
These relationships – with my parents, my children, the people I have met along the way – have taught me what truly matters. Even in naming my company & Finch, I carry forward the traditional "& Son" approach as a quiet nod to my father's enduring influence on everything I create.
That act of creating something, of being entrusted with a story, is sacred. When someone allows you into their business, their home, their life and hands you their truth to shape into something lasting
… that's both a responsibility and a profound privilege.
Stories shape who we are.
They help us understand our place in the world, give meaning to our experiences, and connect us to what matters most. They hold both our memories and our possibilities. They anchor us in who we've been while guiding us toward who we might become.
Every project I take on becomes personal to me.
And all stories are worth getting right.
They do outlive us, after all.
Photo by Kenzie Bruce
Stories have shaped my entire life.
Some of my earliest memories are of watching my father, a newspaper photographer, work in the darkroom. I remember my amazement as images emerged in trays of chemicals, revealing moments, stories, memories saved. What looked like magic to me as a child became my life's work – finding the moments that matter and giving them a place to exist beyond themselves.
My father taught me something essential: meet people where they are, with love in your heart. In a world that often rushes to judgment, he approached everything and everyone with genuine respect and curiosity. Whether through his photos or in our shared woodshop where he patiently guided my hands on the lathe, he showed me that great work emerges from this place of respect – for the craft, for the story, and most importantly, for the people whose lives we touch.
For almost 30 years, I've told stories in one way or another. I love the front-row ticket to life that storytelling provides. Being present for both celebrations and heartache. Turning toward the painful, complicated and joyous… all at the same time.
I was born an idealist. Still am.
I believe stories are what give us the ability to keep going. They make us feel. I love when a story makes you cry. When you're so invested in what you're experiencing that it draws emotion from deep within you. Stories connect us with others and they connect us with ourselves.
Especially now, as we live increasingly distracted lives, with so much artificial and disposable media, stories that elicit genuine feeling matter more than ever. This isn't abstract theory. It's concrete reality. Stories matter to everything – politics, social change, environmental action. They shape how a person approaches challenges, what they believe they're capable of in all aspects of life. The story you tell yourself is your truth.
For almost 30 years, I've told stories in one way or another. I love the front-row ticket to life that storytelling provides. Being present for both celebrations and heartache. Turning toward the painful, complicated and joyous… all at the same time.
My path has taken me from photojournalism to documentary filmmaking, from newsrooms to disaster zones to flower fields. At The Oregonian, I was part of a team that won the Pulitzer Prize for Breaking News. It was there I learned that technical excellence matters, but emotional connection matters more. Later, as the Visuals Editor, I guided other storytellers, helping them find their unique voices.
As Creative Director at Blue Chalk Media, I directed hundreds of projects while developing the company's human-centered take on filmmaking. One project, "Growing Floret," earned three Daytime Emmy nominations and allowed me to explore environmental storytelling while refining my approach to long-form documentary work.
While accolades are meaningful recognition, what really drives me is when a story makes a difference – to the subject, to the audience, to the mission.
In 2023, I joined Floret as Executive Producer, where my work focused on connecting the natural world with the themes of determination, resilience and empowerment.
Photo by Jesse Crowell
One of my most meaningful projects was "Gardening in a War Zone," a documentary about Alla Olkhovska, a Ukrainian gardener who continued cultivating rare clematis varieties while living under missile attacks in Kharkiv. The film showed how beauty is not just a luxury but a necessity during the darkest times – a testimony to the human spirit and a refusal to surrender hope.
Throughout my career, one of my great joys has been mentoring others. Whether at industry workshops, university lectures, or just trying to be helpful to my coworkers and friends, I've tried to pass on what I've learned: that the best stories come from listening more than speaking, watching more than directing, and finding the emotional truth at the heart of each one.
I live in Portland, Oregon with my wife Fran and our two children, Alcina and Seamus. Much of my time is spent on various sidelines, cheering for them at track meets, soccer and volleyball games and just trying the best I can to be a good parent. When time allows, I retreat to my workshop, continuing a woodworking tradition my father and I shared. In his final years, we spent a lot of time in that small shop – a sacred space where we connected through the shared language of creating something from nothing.
These relationships – with my parents, my children, the people I have met along the way – have taught me what truly matters. Even in naming my company & Finch, I carry forward the traditional "& Son" approach as a quiet nod to my father's enduring influence on everything I create.
That act of creating something, of being entrusted with a story, is sacred. When someone allows you into their business, their home, their life and hands you their truth to shape into something lasting
… that's both a responsibility and a profound privilege.
Stories shape who we are.
They help us understand our place in the world, give meaning to our experiences, and connect us to what matters most. They hold both our memories and our possibilities. They anchor us in who we've been while guiding us toward who we might become.
Every project I take on becomes personal to me.
And all stories are worth getting right.
They do outlive us, after all.
