Rarely do photo sessions feel like work for me. They’re challenging, but in the best possible way. When sessions flow freely, I feel like I’ve slipped into a room full of brilliant people, excellent music, and just enough dancing to qualify as cardio. Yesterday was all that! Harmony and I photographed Allison: Seattle University professor, knot theory specialist (which sounds both intellectually heroic and slightly impossible), award-winning author, mentor, mother, and a wom

I'm pretty good with the written word, but not so much lately. Luckily, photography doesn’t require them. For quite a while, the camera and I took a break. Not the dramatic, “finding myself” kind. Life simply stepped forward and handed me a level of responsibility I could not have prepared for. I lost my sister, and soon after, my attention turned to caring for my elderly father. Photography had to wait. When I finally picked the camera back up, there was no big creative plan

It’s been a rough few days. If you’ve glanced at the news, doom-scrolled for three minutes, or accidentally made eye contact with a headline, you already know. The world feels… sporty. In the way a house fire is “warm.” So naturally, Harmony and I responded the only reasonable way: big hair, sequins, dramatic lighting, and absolutely no emotional restraint. This image is what happens when two grown adults with professional credentials decide that glamour is a perfectly valid

Coming back to creative work after a long season of caregiving for my elderly father has felt like a bizarre identity crisis in sensible shoes. You’re technically back in your life. Back in your routines. Back in the studio…and yet, something in you is still buffering. Your eye remembers. Your instincts remember. Your nervous system, meanwhile, is running an unauthorized beta version held together by caffeine, side-eye, and pure will. Sometimes gin. You don’t come back as the