Three Groups, One Mountaintop: My Summer at the lululemon Residency in Marfa

2026 note: The purpose statement I wrote on top of that mountain became the seed of my Heroes on White project.

In June 2016 I had the opportunity to go to Marfa, Texas, with lululemon. Where is Marfa, you might ask? I asked the very same question. It's a small town in far West Texas, roughly 400 miles west of San Antonio. It became something of an artists' haven in the 1970s and now has a surprising amount of art for a town its size. The landscape is beautiful, but the people lululemon brought out there were the real reason for the trip.

I served as resident photographer for three back-to-back groups: Men Take Marfa, Hall Pass and Namaste. Each had its own purpose and its own kind of magic.

Why lululemon did this

That summer lululemon ran a series of month-long residencies in houses across the Southwest. Each hosted several groups of people from inside and outside the company, and the sessions weren't about the brand. They were about the growth of the people attending. It's a big investment in something with no direct effect on the bottom line, and I can tell you it worked on me.

Men Take Marfa

This first group will always have a special place in my heart. It was my first, and I felt like one of the guys rather than just the photographer. I didn't even know the point of the trip when I started the ten-hour drive west. Somewhere along the way I realized the guys had loaded up in Houston and San Antonio together and had already spent those ten hours getting to know each other. Work had me arriving a day late, and the only person I knew was Kelley, who had invited me. I could be the awkward outsider, or I could ignore that feeling and dive in. I chose to dive in, and I had a great group of guys to get to know as soon as I stepped out of the car.

I arrived just after noon on the first full day, grabbed my camera and jumped in a van to rent bikes, the perfect time to ask names, get them wrong and ask again until I knew everybody. We rolled across town for burritos, where I learned a group of super-fit guys can eat more than I ever imagined, and then explored. It was my first time shooting from a bike, and it was a great way to break the ice. We took in El Cosmico and the Chinati Foundation's installations. I won't claim I "got" all the modern art, but it was interesting.

By the end of that first day I realized this was nothing like my usual assignments. It was a chance to work as a documentary photographer instead of an advertising photographer: documenting, journaling and enjoying it all. If I hadn't joined in, I couldn't have told the story Kelley and lululemon wanted told.

So I joined in. We played slam ball, I carried a broken rental bike back to the shop on my shoulder (true story), we looked at the moon through a telescope at McDonald Observatory, and we swam in the huge, clear spring at Balmorhea State Park, where I caught a snake to everyone's horror and amazement. (Sam just rolled her eyes. #nevergrowup)

All of that was really a lead-up to the last day: Big Bend National Park.

The mountaintop

Big Bend is one of my favorite places on earth and badly underrated. It has always made me feel a little more at peace than anywhere else in this huge state, so I was stoked. On the way we stopped at a little coffee shop in Alpine for some of the best cold brew I've ever had, which is saying something, because I usually think cold brew is disgusting.

We hit the park before it got too hot, and that's with an asterisk, since it was well over 100 degrees by our second stop. Our hike was the Lost Mine Trail: about five miles round trip, gaining more than a thousand feet to some of the most sweeping views in the park. I carried about 30 pounds of camera gear and kept running from the back of the group to the front to set up, shoot the team walking by and do it all again, all the way to the top. Demanding? Yes. But it was a blast.

All week, Kelley and Beth had been leading these men through a series of exercises. These were business owners, trainers, fathers and husbands, and the exercises were meant to help them understand their purpose, their drive and the legacy they wanted to leave. The climax was on that peak, overlooking a sweeping ravine, where each of them declared his purpose in life.

At first I wandered to the other side of the peak to eat my smushed peanut butter sandwich, write in my own journal and miss my wife. (I'm not trying to score points. I really was a little mopey in such an amazing place.) Then I started listening to what was happening behind me. The guys weren't just doing another exercise. They were standing up, reading their statements aloud and having to convince everyone else that it really was their purpose. On top of a mountain.

I had to grab my camera, but more importantly, I had to get over there and be part of it. You could hear the moment each man nailed it. When they were just reciting words, it sounded like reciting. When it became their purpose, the pride and conviction in their voices was unmistakable. It was a map for how they wanted to affect the world and a statement they could check their actions and goals against. I had to get in on it, and here's what I came to:

I tell the stories of the Heroes that surround us, to inspire others to be the Heroes we need.

Saying that out loud to such a powerful group, in such an awe-inspiring place, gave me goosebumps. That moment defined the trip for all of us.

Hall Pass

I came back for the second and third groups with my friend Eric Walley, a talented photojournalist I knew from our weekly church small group. Ten hours in a car, a week together and ten hours home could have gone either way. It was awesome. Both groups loved him, and having him there took a lot of pressure off me. I didn't have to capture everything. I could tell my chunk of the story and trust Eric to fill in the rest, the way Sam and I used to split weddings.

Hall Pass was exactly what it sounds like: a few days off for a group of lululemon educators from South Texas to relax and get to know their coworkers. Where the first group had been intensely competitive, this one was defined by a chaotic, creative energy. I struggled at first with what to document, until I let go of my expectations and started enjoying these people for who they were.

We explored on bikes again (I brought my own this time), practiced yoga, and Kelley and Jeska led purpose discussions like the one on the mountain. The answers were different. Where the men had aimed at their work as trainers, athletes, business owners and fathers, this group talked about the greater good: listening to others, making them feel loved and welcome, and bringing happiness to the people around them. It was beautiful to watch them shape those statements, especially at a time when the world can seem so cynical and self-absorbed.

The second day started before dawn with a sunrise yoga shoot in the Davis Mountains with three of the group, Shannon, Luna and Adyn, which I wrote about separately. After the group's purpose session, it was off to Balmorhea for one more afternoon in the spring, where Kelley had me doubled over laughing and earned a standing ovation from the whole pool with an epic backflip in pink goggles and a float around her waist.

By the time we got back, the final group had arrived, and Eric and I were sad to see Hall Pass go. Some of my closest friendships from the whole trip came out of that group. Marfa magic.

Namaste

By the time the third group arrived I was running on about three hours of sleep, and we had to build new friendships on the fly. It was a great lesson in how journalists and editorial photographers work: diving into short-lived relationships and figuring out how to tell the story as fast as possible.

This group truly lived the practice of yoga, and that was far from my own daily life. With my background in biomedical engineering, I wasn't sure how I'd connect well enough to tell their stories. The turning point came the first night at El Cosmico, where Eric and I finally got a bed (in a tent!). We sat under a clear sky talking with Kathryn, who was leading the group through finding their voices, and we got a real sense of how great these people were.

The days filled with yoga, voice exercises and one last trip to Balmorhea, and one night Eric and I set up tripods and photographed the Milky Way from El Cosmico.

Then came the kind of day I love most: a photoshoot. The group wanted portraits around El Cosmico, so Kelley, my unofficial art director for the day, split them between Eric and me, matching personalities with photographers. The weather didn't cooperate, so we ducked out from under cover when we could and worked with the overcast light. Some of the best frames happened organically, mid-conversation, and the one-on-one time let me really get to know people.

What Marfa gave me

Looking back, it went by so fast. We usually surround ourselves with people who share our experiences, beliefs and views. A chance meeting here or there might stick with us for a while, but it rarely changes the way we see the world. Being dropped into groups so different from me, and needing to know them well enough to tell their stories responsibly, changed me. It changed how I see the world for the better, and it opened up my heart and my walk in faith in a way I didn't see coming.

Thank you to Kelley, Eric and everyone in all three groups for the experience of a lifetime, and for ending my time in Marfa with as much magic as it began.

Originally published on the Ruddock Visuals blog, August 2016. Lightly edited in 2026.