John Craigie at The Lariat: A Colorado Concert Experience

As a Colorado concert photographer, I’ve had the privilege of capturing some incredible live performances, but there was something about seeing John Craigie at The Lariat in Buena Vista, Colorado, that felt extra special. The small bar atmosphere, the intimate stage—it was the perfect setting for an artist whose words hit you right in the gut.

The Music That Heals

There are some artists that feel like home the first time you hear them—like a melody you’ve known forever, even if you just stumbled across it. John Craigie is that artist for me. His words bring you up from the depth of your being, in the best possible way, reaching into places you didn’t even know needed healing.

When I first heard I Am California, a song he recorded with Gregory Alan Isakov, I felt something shift. That song was my introduction to John, and since then, I’ve been lost in the soul of the boy from Oregon, following his music like a thread through some of the most transformative moments of my life.

So when I had the chance to photograph his show at The Lariat in Buena Vista, Colorado, it felt like a full-circle moment.

The Lariat: A Venue With Soul

The Lariat is one of those small, intimate venues that makes every show feel like it’s just for you. The kind of place where the stage is close enough to touch, and the music soaks into the walls, lingering long after the night is over. It was the perfect setting for John’s storytelling magic—his songs, his humor, the way he weaves in and out of melody and conversation like an old friend spinning tales around a campfire.

Standing there with my camera, capturing the energy of the room, I couldn’t help but think about how this moment all started months ago—on the Tuolumne River in California.

A River, A Raft, and a Musician With a Bucket of Water

Last summer, I joined John and a small group of adventurers on one of his annual rafting trips with ARTA River Trips. It was my first time rafting, and I won’t lie—I was a little nervous. But with an incredible guide, I found my rhythm on the water. We spent three days floating through wild, untouched beauty, and two nights sleeping under a sky dusted with stars, the sound of the river lulling us to sleep.

Each night, John played an intimate set for our tiny crew, his voice blending with the crackle of the fire and the whisper of the water. There’s something about music in a setting like that—stripped down, raw, real—that connects people in a way nothing else can.

Some of my favorite memories from that trip? John becoming my “water boy” for a moment, tossing buckets of water onto a flipped raft so I could slide into the river. And the time we hiked and swam up a mountain stream, some of the group daring to dive off cliffs into the deep, hidden swimming hole we found tucked into the rock.

But the most unforgettable moment?

One afternoon, we took a hike up to an old mining shaft. We knew that was our destination, but what we didn’t know was that John had gotten there before us. As we stepped inside, string lights and candles flickered against the rough stone walls, and suddenly—music. His voice carried through the dark space as he played Nomads at the far end of the shaft, waiting for us.

We all piled in, sinking into the moment, the sound of his voice echoing off the stone. It felt sacred, like we had stumbled into something we weren’t meant to witness but were so lucky to be part of. (Spoiler alert for future rafters—I hear he does this on every trip. But even knowing that, I promise, it won’t make it any less magical.)

At the end of that rafting trip, I mentioned to John that I was a photographer and would love to capture one of his shows when he came through Colorado. Fast forward to this night at The Lariat, and there I was, camera in hand, documenting a musician whose work had carried me through some of my hardest and most transformative years.

The Art of Keeping My Cup Full

Being a live concert photographer fills my creative cup in a way that keeps me inspired for the work I do with families and couples. There’s something about capturing raw emotion—whether it’s the energy of a crowd singing in unison or the quiet, intimate moments between loved ones—that keeps my passion alive. Exploring different styles of Colorado photography allows me to bring fresh artistic inspiration to my clients, ensuring their images feel as vibrant and storytelling-driven as the moments I capture on stage. Concert photography is one of the ways I do that. It lets me step into a different creative space, chase light and movement, and be fully present in the energy of live music.

Find What Fills You

This experience reminded me how important it is to pursue the things that set your soul on fire. Whether it’s music, art, adventure, or something else entirely—find the thing that makes you feel alive and make time for it. Because when we give ourselves space to be inspired, we have so much more to offer the world.

If you haven’t listened to John Craigie yet, do yourself a favor—start with I Am California, then let yourself fall down the rabbit hole of his discography. And if you ever have the chance to see him live, take it.

Why Music and Photography Go Hand in Hand

Music freezes moments in time, just like photography. A song can take you back to a feeling, a place, a season of life—and so can an image. Whether I’m capturing a concert event or a family session bathed in golden-hour light, my goal is the same: to tell a story that brings you right back to the heart of that moment.

Ready to Capture Your Story?

If you’re looking for a Colorado concert photographer or someone to document the raw, unfiltered love in your life, I’d love to connect. Whether it’s a live show, a couples session, or a family adventure, let’s create something unforgettable together. Want to follow along as I chase creativity through photography, music, and wild adventures? Let’s connect.

The Train That Gave Me Power – Ringling Bros. Circus in Colorado Springs

Still life photography is one of those things that just doesn't happen often for me. My kiddos are generally always with me or I am elbow deep in schoolwork or tasks for my business. Sometimes though, sometimes I get to take the time to adventure and go beyond my comfort zone. Those are the times I live for. That is where the drive is.

In 2015, when I first moved to Colorado, I remember arriving in Colorado Springs. My path took me towards downtown under the Uintah bridge. I had just spent the last five years of my life on an isolated ranch in the middle of nowhere Nebraska and the sight of a giant shiny CIRCUS train stopped on the bridge was more than my brain could process. This stuff actually exists? I was in awe. Dumbstruck. I had to document this.

The next morning I got up at 5 am and journeyed down to the tracks where the train sat. Focusing on the details of the train, rather than the fact that it was a circus train, was the goal. To tell the story of the metal boxes. In 2016, when the circus and train came back to town, I revisited the metal beast again, this time with a fancy new camera in tow. I tried to take myself back to the day I moved to town. It worked, and something else happened in the process.

When I was photographing the train, I didn’t realize that the set of images created a statement within my soul. To me, they symbolize something beyond what I even knew when I was creating them. A new start. A fresh journey. Hope. Happiness. They mark the turning of a page and the strength of being on my own. I was a woman finally free. Free of the hands that bound me. Free to adventure in life without someone trying to derail your every move. I can do that just fine on my own, thanks. Everyone stumbles, but keeping someone in place just to do it just isn’t the same.

The circus and the circus train are no longer in service, and that's okay with me. I have this set of images that no one will ever be able to take away. I have a memory attached to the giant metal boxes. Boxes that pave the way for new life. Boxes that used to bring joy, town by town. Steadily moving towards a new destination. When I look at them, I do not just see a set of still-life images. I see my life. Renewed, healthy, and just like the train; moving forward. Inch by inch. As the heavy train starts to move, with it’s slow but steady pace, you think, will it ever get up to speed? Then, when it reaches its full power, the train becomes an arrow, difficult to stop without some force. 

That is me. Moving forward with such gusto that it would be difficult for someone to stop me in my tracks.

I want to share with you the power of symbolic hope. The train that I captured created a sense of renewed power and drive for me. Trains are heavy, oh so heavy, but they are also powerful and full of might. Difficult to start but even more difficult to stop, I look to the train as my reminder that I too am like a locomotive. You can't stop me. Not without a fight.