Photography became my excuse to get to know remarkable people.
For me, it has never been about the camera. It has always been about the person.
Photography has been woven into my life for as long as I can remember. My dad was the one who introduced me to it. He loved cameras, always had one nearby, and because of that, our family’s story was documented in photographs. Birthdays, vacations, ordinary afternoons—he believed those moments were worth preserving.
In high school, I joined the yearbook staff and was responsible for designing several sections of the book. Rather than using someone else’s photographs, I wanted to create my own. I wanted the images to belong to the stories they accompanied, not simply fill the space on the page. That experience changed everything.
I fell in love with photography—and with magazines.
I devoured the pages of Glamour, Vogue, and every editorial publication I could get my hands on. My dream was to move to New York and work in publishing, creating photographs that felt cinematic, intentional, and full of personality. There was something magical about the way those images could make an ordinary moment feel extraordinary.
Even today, I believe there’s something deeply meaningful about a magazine-inspired portrait session. Having your hair professionally styled, your makeup thoughtfully applied, and slipping into clothing that makes you feel confident isn’t about pretending to be someone else. It’s about giving yourself permission to step into the best version of who you already are.
Over the years, my definition of a great portrait has changed.
When I was younger, I admired beautiful fashion photography. Today, I’m more interested in the person than the styling. The wardrobe, the lighting, and the makeup all matter, but only because they help remove distractions. What I’m really looking for is the moment someone stops worrying about how they look and starts simply being themselves.
That’s the portrait I’ve been chasing all along.
Not fashion.
Not perfection.
Recognition.
Because the photographs that stay with us aren’t the ones that make us look different.
They’re the ones that remind us who we’ve become.