TCF Ep. 640 - Matthew Finley

An Impossibly Normal Life Project, Sequencing Your Images, & Mark Steinmetz' Chicago.

An Impossibly Normal Life

I’m happy to share this new episode of The Candid Frame featuring photographer Matthew Finley, whose work is a powerful blend of vulnerability, beauty, and emotional truth.

Matthew’s photography is deeply personal. Growing up queer in an environment where he never felt fully accepted, he often found himself feeling isolated and unseen. But in the studio, he’s created a space where he can express his true self. Through his use of gesture, form, and a variety of photographic techniques, he’s able to explore anxiety, identity, connection, and what it means to be human.

A big part of our conversation centered around his new book project, An Impossibly Normal Life, which he’s currently funding through Kickstarter. It’s a fictional visual narrative built from a collection of found photographs, used to imagine the life of an uncle Matthew, later learned may have been gay, but who had passed away years before Matthew came out himself. It’s a tender and haunting act of storytelling, a way of reaching back through time to connect with a family member he never truly knew, but whose story resonates deeply with his own.

The project blurs the lines between fact and fiction, history and imagination—and in doing so, it gives voice to the stories that so many queer people have had to keep hidden. It’s not just a book of photographs; it’s a deeply empathetic and evocative portrait of a life that could have been, and a reflection on the lives we struggle to make sense of when the pieces are missing.

If you listen to anything in this episode, make it this part of the conversation—Matthew speaks so thoughtfully and openly about why this book matters and what it means to put something so personal into the world. You can check out and support the campaign right here.

Why Sequencing Your Photos Matters

One of the most important—and often overlooked—aspects of photography is sequencing. It’s not just about picking your strongest images. It’s about how those images live next to each other, how they speak to one another, and how they create rhythm and flow. The order of your photographs can completely shape how your work is experienced. It can build tension, create surprise, offer space to breathe, or hit the viewer with emotional weight.

Sequencing is one of the most important things a photographer needs to learn to do well—but honestly, it’s something most photographers do poorly. It’s not about randomly arranging your best shots. It’s about intention. About storytelling. About knowing how one image leads to the next and why.

Whether you're working on a book, a portfolio, a gallery wall, or even a social media series, sequencing is part of the storytelling. And it’s not something you leave to the last minute—it’s a creative act all its own.

If you're not already thinking about sequencing as part of your process, I want to recommend a great video by Dan Milnor on his YouTube channel called “Shifter: Sequencing.” Dan has a great way of breaking things down. In this video, he shares his personal approach to editing and sequencing and why it matters. He also talks about how sequencing isn’t about rules—it’s about feeling and intent.

Rebuilding a Library, One Beautiful Book at a Time

Since the fire, I’ve been slowly rebuilding my photography book collection—one thoughtful, meaningful title at a time. At the top of my list is Chicago by Mark Steinmetz.

The photographs in this book, made between 1988 and 1991, are a quiet, beautiful portrait of the city and the moment in time it captures. While Steinmetz is often connected to the American South, Chicago has clearly held a special place in his creative journey. Its neighborhoods, its architecture, and its people gave him a rich visual language to work with—and he used it to create images that are tender, reflective, and timeless.

What I love about Steinmetz’s work is how subtle and human it is. The sequencing in Chicago feels intuitive and intentional—it gives the images space to breathe while slowly building a sense of rhythm and emotional weight. It’s the kind of book that reveals more with every viewing.

Looking through Chicago also makes me think about the photographs I’ve made—and continue to make in Altadena. There’s something about the way Steinmetz sees that resonates deeply with me. It reminds me why I photograph in the first place. His images act as a kind of mirror and motivation, a quiet nudge to keep paying attention and stay connected to the world around me. It’s the kind of book that doesn’t just sit on your shelf—it becomes part of your creative process.

It’s the kind of book that reminds you why the photo book is such a powerful medium—and why building a personal library of work that moves you is so important.