About

I didn't choose photography because I loved cameras.

I chose it because I know what it feels like to lose someone and only then realize how few photos you have of them.

My older sister passed away over ten years ago. And as the years have gone on, I've found myself reaching for memories that only exist in my mind now — moments that belonged only to the two of us, that no one else was there to photograph. We never thought to. We didn't know we'd need to.

Grief has a way of quietly rewriting what you pay attention to. I started believing that every moment lived deserves to be photographed — every laugh, every quiet glance, every ordinary second full of love worth keeping. Because I knew now how fast a photo becomes the only thing you have left of someone.

And that became my purpose.

Present, intentional, treating every frame like it matters deeply. Because I know firsthand that it will.

And when you need me I'm there. A gentle nudge, a quiet prompt, just enough direction that you forget the camera exists, and what's left is entirely, honestly you.

You're trusting someone who genuinely understands why this matters.

I'd love to be part of your story.