I make portraits. Not the kind your aunt hangs over the fireplace next to the taxidermy deer. These are the kind that feel like someone walked into your life, looked around, and said, “Yeah, let’s shoot this weird little corner.” Sometimes it’s clean. Sometimes it’s a beautiful mess. Sometimes it’s pretend—because let’s be real, pretending is just another way to sneak up on the truth.

I mostly work with people who care too much—in the best way. Artists. Small business owners. Nonprofits. People who are way too tired to fake it but still show up with something real in their hands. My job? Help them show the world what that looks like.

Look, I don’t show up with a clipboard and a fake smile. I show up with a camera, too many ideas, and probably a snack. We make a plan, then we break it. We chase the good light. We talk about your dog. We accidentally make something that hits harder than either of us expected.

I only take on a handful of projects at a time. Not because it sounds cool—because that’s what it takes to actually give a damn.

And the truth? I wake up every day thinking about this stuff. Like, obsessively. Before coffee. Before Instagram. Just this loud little voice in my brain that won’t shut up until something gets made.

You’re weird. I’m weird. The world’s on fire and somehow still asking us to be normal. No thanks.

Life’s short. And a little ridiculous. Document accordingly.