It all started back in November.

Kristen and I were winding down a perfect day in Charleston, heading back to my car around sundown. We were waiting at a crosswalk for the light to turn, when a horse-drawn carriage full of tourists stopped next to us. The tours - and horses - are staples of the peninsula, running day and night year-round. Right before the light went green, I hunched down just a bit and half-assed an attempt at a silhouette, shooting this photo:

It was a decent shot of the horse, but he had blinders on, along with a bunch of other head gear (and dreads?), and there were cars lined up in the back. Too much going on, but could have been a nice shot.

It wasn’t until later, while reviewing the day’s haul, that I saw it with a different eye. If I had crouched just a little lower, that steeple in the back ground would have sat like a horn on the horse’s head.

A Chucktown Unicorn.

For the next few months I played with the idea in my head and kept it in my back pocket for my next two visits, which weren’t until the following March. If you remember, I was getting antsy in Myrtle, I had discovered Southern Charm, and couldn’t shake the feeling that greatness was calling my name in Charleston. I made back-to-back Sunday trips as the flowers bloomed downtown and had great success sharpening my street photography skills.

When I got back from the second visit, Cam asked me if I got my ‘unicorn shot’.

Yep, I said assuredly, but I was only taking the phrase figuratively; forgetting that I told him about the idea from November. I had meant the ‘heart in the clouds’ shot, a metaphorical unicorn, once-in-a-lifetime type photo. But he meant it literally - did you line up a church and a horse like you said you were going to?

And the answer to that was no. Over the span of two full days I didn’t even get an attempt.

I thought about all the factors, all the boxes that needed to be checked for it to actually look like a unicorn.

The steeple placement, the pose of the horse, the background scenery, the lighting, the weather. The horses don’t stop in one spot for long, and there are so many trees and buildings downtown that catchinga steeple on the horizon is a real challenge, mostly done at or in intersections.

Maybe, I thought, I’m lucky to even get as close as I did. This could be nearly impossible.

A perfect unicorn horn, for those with eyes to see.

April came and went (work has been crazy) and all of a sudden I was staring at a post on my phone that brought equal parts dread and excitement. It was Charleston Magazine announcing that there were 31 days to enter your submissions for their 2026 photo contest issue. I looked up at the calendar. It’s May already!? This was something I had on my radar since last year; I actually made it into the magazine but had my qualms about it.

It was with a photo I didn’t really love (I hate it!) and I was out of the country when they hosted their big party for the winners (publishee’s?) So not only was I not that proud, but I didn’t really get to enjoy the spoils. Making it to that party - no, kicking the figurative doors down - is what I really need to do. Make my name known in a place I love. Make some connections. Get a job. The possibilities are endless.

But the contest snuck up on me. I thought it was held later in the summer, and had planned on having a few more visits under my belt by contest-time. With a trip to the mountains planned for the end of the month, this meant I had just three Sundays.

Three Sundays to find my unicorn.

I slept good all week. I got in a good routine, same bed time every night. I was taking this as serious as my second try at college. [Editor’s note: and much more serious than the first try.]

I brainstormed, I plotted, I daydreamed. The last one was the most important.

I woke up on Sunday and left my apartment before 7 AM. It was a smooth ride as usual, and everything was going according to plan until I got downtown. I took a right on to King and my stomach sank. My secret free parking spot, the staple of my day-long visits here for the last six years, was gated off, just as I feared might one day happen. Damn it.

I didn’t do well without a plan. I circled, and start-stopped, and read parking signs out the window at a slow roll. I couldn’t have looked any more like an out-of-towner, which I was in every sense.

I eventually found a spot, and well, it was in the projects. Fine by me. Beggars can’t be choosers. I parked and got the day started.

I’d never seen this part of Charleston before and it offered some new views. What it did not offer, was horse-drawn carriage rides. I was probably a good mile or two from hearing any hooves clicking. My camera shutter would have to make up for it in the meantime.

I heard it way, way before I saw it. A colossal rumble. I flipped my camera on and pointed it to the sky. I was a soccer goalie, making a split-second, instinctual guess at which way to jump.

I guessed right. That’s a BLUE ANGEL, in the wild, leaving the area after being part of a show in town the day prior. Thousands of people took it’s photo that day. I’m sure I’m the only one who got it this morning. This was a good sign. I was ready for the day.

I passed St. John’s Chapel, which had this stunning tree in the courtyard. The sign says the church was established in 1839, which made me wonder: which is older - the church or the tree!?

Do you think there’s 187 rings in that trunk or no

The photo contest technically has a theme, or tagline: “So Charleston” ie: Do you have a photo that’s So Charleston?

From my experience, this includes a wide swath of subjects, scenes and ways of life. It is first and foremost, a beautiful and historic world-renowned tourist destination for top-notch food, beverage and hospitality. But it’s also a dirty college town and an enormous hospital campus, mixed in with some low-income housing, sprinkled with a bunch of breath-taking parks. museums and a world-class shopping district.

And it’s a million years old, draped in powerlines, flood-prone and full of eccentric locals and transplants.

So to me, a photo that’s “So Charleston” could be something like this:

Or something like this:

It’s as charming as Savannah, as weird as Austin, as snooty as LA. It’s as haunted as a single place could possibly be. And there’s a tour for everything. So how does one decide what “So Charleston” means!?

Well to me, it’s a magical place. I’ve written about it over and over. The parks, the trees, the alleyways. From the flower boxes to the gravestones; life, death and everything in between is beautiful in Charleston, South Carolina.

Can you imagine leaving your job and you’re like ‘OK time to go home now’ and then you go here lmao.

The churches, like St. John’s shown earlier, are all hundreds of years old. Some are older than America. It’s known as the Holy City, after all.

The horse-drawn carriage tours, while controversial to some, cannot be argued against as a staple of culture on the peninsula. It simply would not be the same without them.

So by combining the two, the steeples and the horses, I was trying to create something truly magical. Figuratively, literally, whatever: I’m going to make a unicorn today, and show everyone how magical it really is here.

But I still have another half a mile at least before I see anything with hooves. I walked faster in anticipation.

Oh cool you live in a gently-haunted gingerbread house in a whimsical Southern neighborhood? No big deal, very common lifestyle, not jealous at all.

After a good amount of sun and steps, more than usual before this point, I made it to Meeting Street.

I knew that the carriage rides had a home base; a stable in the heart of downtown - I visited it once back in 2020 - so I thought I would start there. [Editor’s note: the ‘i' goes before ‘a’ in carriage!? Hm. I don’t like that or agree with it but whatever.]

Didn’t get nearly low enough, the canopy is also not ideal.

My first attempt of the day was right in front of the stable doors. This horse was just getting done with tour, and there was one coming out behind me. I was, without a doubt, in the way, perhaps of more than one party. This is not a sustainable spot or method. It almost certainly be only a matter of time before someone, probably that guy in the shades, tells me to get lost.

This is the second attempt, 10-15 minutes later. I stood in the shade around the corner from the main entrance/exit to the stables, and listened as people gathered and waited their turn. They gabbed about brunch, church, vacations, staycations, you name it. I looked at my phone. It’s still the ‘first-half’, but time is indeed ticking. Standing around listening to the Housewives of West Ashley review their cranberry-mimosa pancakes or whatever the fuck they’re talking about might be a bad strategy, regardless of location. As soon as the black horse pulled in, I ran out into the entrance way again and tried once more. Close but no cigar. I like it, but I don’t think the angle is perfect. I could get more of Charleston in the background. And I would love to get one without all the head-gear on. They look like a Harley jacket (derogatory).

Eli the horse, coming dangerously close to being Eli the unicorn. But the angle - both of the photo and of the horn - are not great.

While waiting for another action shot for what seemed like forever, a lady basically parallel-parked a horse right next to me on the corner. I introduced myself and told her what I was doing. She seemed genuinely impressed by the idea and told me to give it a try with Eli here.

I had a horse at my disposal, with a trainer to coax it, and a church in the background, with all the time in the world. And this is still the best that I got. While the second attempt encouraged me, shooting Eli almost did the opposite. To get the shot that I had in my head was going to be very, very hard.

I had been standing around the stables for almost an hour when I got a clean shot at this guy. I liked the angle, and there was a lot more going on in the background. But it doesn’t jump out as a unicorn. It’s only recognizable as one if someone points it out. I want it to be obvious.

At this point, I had heard all the FAQs answered by the gentleman out front of the stables, acting as an ambassodor for both the business and the horses - or their owners at least. And honestly I was fully swayed by the information - or propaganda - that he was doling out. Like I said before, the horses can be controversial - there are locals who protest their use, or abuse, in hot temperatures (which is much of the year in Charleston) or even at all.

But from what I heard, and saw, they live a good life. They were coddled by trainers and tourists alike from start to finish, worked four-hour shifts and were taken home to John’s Island every night. And on top of that, they only work 100 days a year. Now, if you don’t believe animals should work at all, then that’s your belief, but:

A.) People have been using horses for work and transportation since the year [checks Wikipedia] 3000 BC. There is a track record, and it starts with hieroglyphics.

B.) I would like a job where I only work 100 days a year and go home to John’s Island every night [median home price 966k]

I was re-encouraged by that last attempt, but decided it was time to move on. It was not my M.O. to stand around in Charleston and I felt that might be the best I could do with that location. It may have been the easiest spot to find a horse, but to really get what I wanted, I was going to have to catch one out there in the wild. So I packed my stuff up (Celsius, water, sunscreen, camera) and hit the streets again.

Stated before and here again, I am an absolute sucker for tree cover. Tree-covered streets, alleys, sidewalks, whatever. The more the better.

American Gothic windows (s/o Grant Wood))

A Honda Pilot parallel-parking behind a Lamborghini with license plates that read “U FN WSH” (I do not.)

The only cloud in the sky, reflected off a bank window downtown.

I went back and looked at the last unicorn attempt a few times. It was growing on me. Had I done it? It looked pretty good.

I was talking myself into settling [Editor’s note: don’t do that.] But I was also convincing myself that I was heating up. Perceived success can build momentum, help garner a flow, even when there is no real merit to it.

So I heated up. Especially at Waterfront Park.

That lady has two palm trees on the back of her shirt : )

After two outfit matches in as many minutes at the pineapple fountain, I felt like was really cooking. That’s when I came across Lily.

Lily is a sculpture by Charleston artist Mary Whyte. Mary is an unbelievably talented painter and sculptor, who actually has an exhibit at the Gibbes Museum of Art as we speak. I didn’t originally plan to do anything with the statue other than admire it. It is someone else’s art, after all.

After a few minutes of admiration, however, I noticed the gulls flying to and fro in the background, against a Toy Story-wallpaper sky. I had to try something.

My first couple attempts. I had to consider framing, lighting and composition while also waiting for a god damn bird. I did not bring a tripod, of course, so I’m stuck in the same position a catcher crouches in when they’re intentionally walking a batter. Please hurry up bird.

A few minutes, seven that felt like twenty, actually, I got my bird. Or Lily got hers. Whichever. I was ecstatic. There were two gentlemen smoking giant cigars on the bench directly behind me, watching the whole scene take place. I turned and looked at them like I might need one myself. This was a surefire entry.

[Editor’s note/update: It did end being an entry, and I titled it “Lily Goes For It feat art by Mary Whyte”. It’s like an R&B song that samples a rap hook but then features the rapper on a verse as well. You can’t just take a picture of someone’s art and turn it in and say “OK here’s my art”. You have to make it your own somehow. Remix it. Sample it. Feature them.]

There’s a bird on that porch that cat calls and does other various whistles. I was flattered.

I was covering all kinds of ground, with a pep in my step. I wound up on Broad Street, home of my favorite church (that I know of so far) in town - Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist.

I stopped in a few years back to escape the heat and have done the same ever since. It’s a moving experience even opening the front door. It’s impossible not to feel something inside.

I sat and prayed. Things were really going my way today, so it was more of a thank you than a plea. God bless.

“My light is still on, so why would I pray now?”

— Big KRIT "Mixed Messages"

After thanking the universe for the day so far I cut through the City Market and got a turkey-apple sandwich straight from God herself, I believe. That’s what it tasted like, at least (I had forgotten to eat up until this point, 4:30p-ish).

As I sat and watched the market shoppers, I noticed one intersection in particular got a lot of hoof action. Church and Market.

I circled the area a few times and got the shot above. I couldn’t decide if I liked it more or less than the previous best-attempt.

That’s when I saw this guy coming:

I thought quickly about the checklist:

Perfect location, beautiful white horse, minimal gear. No canopy, small carriage, blue skies. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

I ran into the middle of the intersection, which I miraculously had to myself, kneeled on one knee and starting firing off.

Here is the unedited sequence, straight from my camera, followed by the finished product:

AHHHHHHHHHHHH HAHAHAHAHAHA

OH MY GOD

The horse trotted right into focus, right into the light, right into history.

After getting out of the way, I just stood on the corner in shock. Should I call someone? Text someone? I pulled out my phone and took my heart rate. 99 beats per minute. I’m freaking the f*** out. Holy shit.

I started back towards the stables, still in a stupor. On the other side of the market was the same intersection, just a half a block back. I saw two more horses coming.

“BANG!!! ....BANG!!!!”

— MIKE BREEN

A MIKE BREEN DOUBLE BANG HAHAHA. My camera was physically smoking. And I could have smoked a cigarette. Not one, but TWO back-to-back “I’ve had this in my head just like this for six months and here it is in real life” photos. Time to go home man.

That’s when the sobering feeling of realization sunk in. Realizing that I am nowhere, nowhere near my car right now. It’s on the other side of the peninsula, the other side of the housing projects. Better get moving.

Even when I’m trying to beeline it to the car I can’t just not stop for scenes like these.

While on most days, leaving on a Shrek-pajamas color match is above and beyond good enough. But I was too hot to call it quits.

As I got off the Ravenel Bridge leaving Charleston, I saw a basketball court at a park under the Mount Pleasant exit, one I would normally blow past to head home.

But this time I got off. And went to find that park.

I parked my car and this is the first picture I took. A pristine ‘lowcountry’ scene. If there were a bird anywhere in sight I might have another entry. So damn pretty.

I couldn’t believe how beautiful the park was. I needed to explore more - but ran out of time. The sun was going down, I was 26,000 steps and my ETA home was pushing 10pm. I left it all on the floor.

This will sound hyperbolic, but this type of shooting day justifies everything. I couldn’t have done this in Iowa. It is license to be OK with my decisions. To leave home, to tell my friends I’m meant for more. To re-brand myself in third-person (tounge-in-cheek but still). To even say I’m a photographer.

In January of last year I wrote about the struggles of regretting leaving home, and weighing that against the burden of unfulfilled potential. I concluded, after pouring my guts out and examining them, that I still had a lot more to prove. To the world, to my hometown, to myself.

This is what I was talking about. A day like this gives that merit.

Ladies and gentlemen, my name is STEW.

And STEW GETS BUCKETS.

“ALLOW ME TO RE-INTRODUCE MYSELF”

— Jay-z "PSA"

WHAT'S NEW

HUNTING FOR UNICORNS