Frames of Honor exists because too many people who dedicate their lives to service are never visually honored beyond a title, uniform, or moment in time.

This project is deeply personal to me. My father was a veteran of the CIA’s Secret War in Laos. When he came to the United States, there were no photographs of his life before displacement and survival, nor of his service. That absence shaped how I understand memory, identity, and loss. Instead of learning about my father’s life and the lessons he walked away with, my siblings and I inherited the psychological impact of it.

According to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs’ most recent National Veteran Suicide Prevention Annual Report (2024), an average of 17.6 veterans die by suicide every single day. While this figure is widely cited, the real number may be even higher.

Frames of Honor is not a solution to this crisis—but it is a response to a quieter, often overlooked reality: when identity, story, and dignity go unseen for long enough, people can feel invisible.

This project exists to ensure that the lives of service members, veterans, first responders, and community heroes are preserved with intention—so their stories are not lost, and their humanity is never reduced to silence.