I live in a one-room shack on Dixie Garden Drive, a rural dead-end road on the edge of Chapel Hill, North Carolina. About a year and a half ago, our well sprung a leak, and we were without water for a couple weeks. Every day I'd see my landlord, Phineas, digging somewhere between my house and his. "I think I found the leak!" he'd say. One night I got home late and was ready to sleep. Instead, I was greeted by bright work lights shining from behind my home, loud music, cigarette smoke, and several dogs running wild. Phineas and his friend Mike were drunkenly digging a trench between our houses. Mike explained there was no water, but there was plenty of whiskey and handed me a plastic flask of Old Crow or something like that. Instead of getting annoyed, I took a swig and grabbed my camera. I had no idea Mike was about to make a startling confession involving 100 monkeys – nor did I expect to begin shooting a feature-length documentary that night. Dixie Garden Drive is a film about the men and dogs who congregate around their friend and neighbor, Phineas. It challenges our notions of masculinity and maleness.
Born in the U.S.A., raised in Pennsyltucky, educated in Boston, did time in Pittsburgh, refined in the South. Filmmaker, Artist, Photographer, Teacher, Musician. Pepsi Generation.