I’m In Love With A Dead Squirrel

I came across Michael J. DeMeo’s photography recently and got why he refuses to leave film. Everything about his work feels intentional—not in that performative Instagram way, but in the sense that shooting film requires actual knowledge. You burn through a roll fast enough that each frame matters. You can’t fake it.

He photographs people, usually tattooed, usually real. Sometimes naked. The kind of people and moments that don’t photograph well when you’re trying to be polite about it. And the images have this quality where you can’t doubt that what you’re looking at actually happened. There’s no filter, no algorithm, no second guessing.

The title about being in love with a dead squirrel makes sense when you’re committed to capturing what’s true rather than what’s pretty. A dead squirrel is less beautiful than a live one, but it’s more real to what actually exists. That matters if you’re serious about the work.

Portland-based, committed to a medium most people consider obsolete. That level of conviction is less common than it should be, but when you see it—when you see work that refuses to compromise—it lands different.