My images examine the space between surviving and living. By capturing moments of survival, I learn how to live—discovering how to appreciate the small, easily unnoticed details of existence.

Take, for example, a small horse pulled from its natural state, forced into a job it must do. Scared, confused, and trapped, it seeks the comfort. Yet against this tension, it was a gorgeous evening. Nearby, cowboys try to maintain their balance on a bucking bull. For what? A dollar bill to pay for feed, gas, and lodging—just trying to get ahead. In this world, everything hangs in a delicate balance.

Later that evening, that same bull flew ten feet into the air and broke both its back legs. The announcer calmly asked for a sled. Someone had to handle it. It leaves you wondering: how much better was life before you were pulled from whatever you were doing?

My perspective is shaped by my time with the Marines, which ultimately afforded me the time to serve as a caregiver for my dad, a Vietnam War veteran. This role has forced me to reflect on what truly matters. I have learned that smiles carry more weight than gold, cries hurt more than physical pain, and simply feeling alright is the true "high life."

Like nails bent into intricate pieces by an artist, putting the fragments of life together is a mystery. While driving with the windows down and soaking in the sun, the reality hits: the world is on fire, the mountains are fading from view, and we better get ready for what is coming.

– Damien Moore June 2026