I tend to live in compartmentalized containers, desperately seeking that which will make my pieces whole.
I am here for it all. A walking contradiction in the best kind of way, I came to photography through fear and stayed because it’s the only place I feel whole. A decade of chasing my inner thoughts, raising kids, and burning through rolls of film has taught me that making isn’t about perfection — it’s about staying awake. I get swept up in the act of selfish creation, but somehow, I still manage to make the kids’ dinner.
I see it before you say it. That dream you had. That feeling you couldn’t name. I’ll pin it down, hold it to the light, and turn it until it makes sense. I’ve spent years shaping what is fleeting: the pause, the glance, the in-between. That’s what I do. I’m a seer. And a maker.
I give shape to the intangible. You’re mid-thought, half-sentence, and I’m listening —closely. Tilting my head, I pull a thread from the air. A reference, a tone, a flash of something familiar but not obvious. I’ve worked in darkrooms and kitchens, in city apartments and roadside motels, in the chaos of family life and the silence of early mornings. I ground in the abstract. Shape the ephemeral. Give it texture. Each frame is a way of turning feeling into form, of giving memory a body to live inside.
Work with me. Collect my prints, explore the archive, or step in front of my lens. However you arrive here, know that I’m glad you’re here. Every photograph is an artifact of living — yours, mine, ours.
