Outside of all this, my world is slow and full in the best way;
rooted in faith, in growing things, in my husband, and in the quiet rhythm of a life shared with animals and open air.
And yet, I’ve always been drawn outward
to the way people move, gather, and find meaning in places far from home.
From the rolling hills of Tuscany to the ocean air of Hawaii, I’m inspired by a life centered around people, around food, around being fully present in what matters most. I carry both with me:
a love for home, and a longing to see the world God created.
I don’t want your story to get lost in a sea of sameness. I hold it carefully, honestly; like something rare. Like something meant to last.
By the end of a wedding day, I don’t feel like an outsider looking in.
I feel like I’ve been folded into something sacred. Like I’ve known you longer than a day. That’s the space I create from.
I document the moments you’ll come back to,
the ones that will hang in your kitchen, the ones your children will flip through one day, the ones your grandmother will hold onto because she wants to remember your faces just as they are now.
These are the images that remain.
Hung in your home. Passed between hands. Returned to over time.
The ones that become part of your family’s memory, quietly and without asking.
My approach is intuitive and observant—guided by feeling as much as form. I work with both digital and super 8 film, allowing each to hold what it does best—movement, texture, memory.
Nothing forced, nothing overworked.
Just what is, preserved with care.
By the end of a wedding day, something shifts. It no longer feels like documentation—it feels like being let into something sacred. Familiar. Held.