SOMETIMES YOU DON'T START OVER. YOU REFINE

As I sit and reflect over my photography journey, one thing I see has always been consistent: my focus on light.

When I first started, everything I did relied on what Mother Nature gave me. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Natural light can be beautiful. But I was never fully satisfied with spotty lighting, blown-out skies, or distracting backgrounds. What I always wanted was depth, rich tones, balanced light and above all, true skin tones.

That has never changed for me.

Clean, accurate skin tones matter. Overexposed highlights and odd color casts are never timeless. Sure, there’s a time to have fun with editing, but at the core, I’ve always wanted images to feel polished, intentional, and lasting. Over the years, one of the things people have told me they appreciate most about my work is how clean and refined it feels and that’s something I’ve always taken to heart.

I’ve also never wanted to offer just one thing. I’ve always tried to be a little different, to give my clients more options and more flexibility. That mindset is what eventually led me toward studio work. I laugh when I think about my very first indoor space a 12×12 room in my home that’s now my office. Looking back, it wasn’t bad considering the size… but I can’t imagine working that way now.

From there, I moved into a larger space (one that no longer exists, as it was torn down to build the current library), and I grew a lot during that time. With each move, my desire to truly understand and control studio lighting only deepened. I wanted to create a look something clean and simple, inspired by magazine imagery. High-key whites, soft grays, darker tones when they made sense. The person as the focus, with everything else simply supporting them.

I’ve experimented with countless lighting setups over the years, and I always find myself coming back to the same goal: light that makes skin, hair, and eyes look their absolute best.

When the opportunity came to move into an old factory building, I remember standing upstairs with Todd, the owner, talking through what the space could be. At the time, his vision felt ambitious. The building was raw, unfinished, and hot as heck, lol.  But he believed in it. And more importantly, he believed in me. He knew I was serious, committed, and not going anywhere.

I was the very first tenant in the building.

There were times when I was completely alone in that massive space especially in the evenings. Let's just say standing in an old factory after dark, is quiet and slightly terrifying. I have more than a few memories of convincing myself I heard something… and then laughing at myself once I made it back to my car.

There were also plenty of texts along the way:
“Hey Todd, it’s really dark — can we get some lights on the stairs?”
“Hey Todd… I’m a little scared at night can we add lights in the parking lot?”

He’d laugh, but he always listened and followed through.

There was an old staircase full of character and became one of my favorite spots to use during sessions. Todd would joke that it really needed to go, but I loved it. Eventually, the staircase was updated, more tenants moved in, and the building began to fill with life.

The vision grew from a single photographer in a quiet factory to a space now home to a variety of businesses. And no, I’m definitely not alone anymore.

Today, I’m surrounded by large windows, character, and creative energy. Being part of what is now known as "The Vine" has allowed me to not only work within my studio walls, but to utilize different parts of the building as well — something I never take for granted and allows me to work in ways that aren’t typically accessible.

I posted my first photos on Facebook back in 2011, which somehow feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. Now, 15 years later, I’m feeling something shift. Not dissatisfaction, but an itch.

We all get comfortable. We find what works and repeat it year after year because it’s easier. I’m guilty of that, too. But I’ve learned to pay attention when that itch shows up. It usually means it’s time to scratch.

My current studio for many is a dream space, and I’m incredibly grateful for it. And yet, I find myself envisioning something more layered: a studio that feels warm, cozy, and inviting, while still holding onto that clean, intentional, creative loft feel.

I want to create multiple setups within the studio spaces that offer different looks without feeling chaotic. I believe a studio should give variety, especially for my seniors who want that flexibility. I love location work and always will, but why not have both?

I’ll be sharing pieces of that process along the way  as I figure out how to scratch that itch and shape what’s next.

Sometimes growth doesn’t mean starting over.
Sometimes it simply means refining.

And I think I’m right in the middle of that process.