I started shooting photography around the age of 10, when my uncle, Joseph Kugielsky, a photographer for the New York Times, gave me my first camera—a Nikon F. I spent a lot of time in the darkroom while in college, but by then music had taken over my life, and I’ve been very lucky to have had longtime success with it.
During a long album tour around four years ago, I started shooting again, following my uncle’s guiding ethos to document the things you see that others don’t. For me, on tour, living the weird juxtaposition of being in front of a huge crowd one moment and then isolated in an airport terminal or anonymous hotel room at 4 a.m. the next—those are unusual experiences that I really enjoyed capturing with my camera. When I work on music I tend to work on it by myself, but in order to create visual work I had to involve friends, and I really liked this communal aspect. When I take photos I’m also forced to interact with the physical and material world in a way I don’t ever have to do in music. With music you’re just pushing air molecules around.
Even after four years of collecting a significant body of work, I had doubts about showing my images to anyone. With digital photography being so prolific, everyone I knew was a photographer. I felt like a dilettante. So, I showed my work to some artist friends (Will Cotton, Damian Loeb, and Tom Sachs) and got a lot of good feedback, but I was still nervous about showing it.
I remembered a quote by the great American science fiction writer, Robert A. Heinlein:
"A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects."
What I take from that quote is that to truly live a creative life means that you will need to experiment in as many different fields as possible. With that challenge, there’s always that risk that as you do, you will leave yourself open to being seen as a dilettante. But I decided that I’d rather try even though it runs the risk of failure.
My initial reluctance to show my photography, I think, was fueled by the fear of public criticism. But in the world we live, anyone who does anything in a public capacity is going to be criticized for it. Honestly, you can’t take it too personally because scathing things get written about a lot of people. It’s sad when people self-edit or inhibit their creativity just out of fear that some mean spirited person might write something nasty about them. We need to learn to base our sense of self worth on the things that really matter—creativity, and family, and friends, and your health, rather than the opinions of strangers you’ll never meet.
There’s something humbling about creating something new and running the risk of public ridicule, but I guess I have pretty low standards when it comes to shame and humility. Really, you have to ask yourself: What’s the worst-case scenario? The worst case is that someone doesn’t like what you do. You still have your friends, family, health, and freedom. So why not try something new? The worst-case scenario really isn’t all that bad.
Photos courtesy of moby, innocents, 2013
Wiman hiding her face behind a bunch of cashCanva
A mansion and its reflection in the swimming poolCanva
Salzburg at nightCanva
Fancy homeCanva
Happy volunteersCanva
Parents of young children get more time with them if they work from home.Photo credit: Canva
Juicy subject matter
Giphy from The Blacklist.
We could start a rumor.
Grieving couple comforting each other
This response to someone grieving a friend might be the best internet comment ever
When someone is hit with the sudden loss of a friend or loved one, words rarely feel like enough. Yet, more than a decade ago, a wise Redditor named GSnow shared thoughts so profound they still bring comfort to grieving hearts today.
Originally posted around 2011, the now-famous reply was rediscovered when Upvoted, an official Reddit publication, featured it again to remind everyone of its enduring truth. It began as a simple plea for help: “My friend just died. I don't know what to do.”
What followed was a piece of writing that many consider one of the internet’s best comments of all time. It remains shared across social media, grief forums, and personal messages to this day because its honesty and metaphor speak to the raw reality of loss and the slow, irregular path toward healing.
Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:
Why this advice still matters
Mental health professionals and grief counselors often describe bereavement in stages or phases, but GSnow’s “wave theory” gives an image more relatable for many. Rather than a linear process, grief surges and retreats—sometimes triggered by a song, a place, or a simple morning cup of coffee.
In recent years, this metaphor has found renewed relevance. Communities on Reddit, TikTok, and grief support groups frequently reshare it to help explain the unpredictable nature of mourning.
Many readers say this analogy helps them feel less alone, giving them permission to ride each wave of grief rather than fight it.
Finding comfort in shared wisdom
Since this comment first surfaced, countless people have posted their own stories underneath it, thanking GSnow and passing the words to others facing fresh heartbreak. It’s proof that sometimes, the internet can feel like a global support group—strangers linked by shared loss and hope.
For those searching for more support today, organizations like The Dougy Center, GriefShare, and local bereavement groups offer compassionate resources. If you or someone you know is struggling with intense grief, please reach out to mental health professionals who can help navigate these deep waters.
When grief comes crashing like the ocean, remember these words—and hang on. There is life between the waves.
This article originally appeared four years ago.