There’s something about a human face that I will never grow tired of. Not because it’s symmetrical, or perfect, or even photogenic by traditional standards – but because it always has a story. A life. A pulse.
I’ve never had the urge to photograph landscapes or still lifes. They’re beautiful, yes, but they don’t look back at you. They don’t laugh mid-frame or blink away a tear or slowly unfold into color right in front of you. I crave connection. I want to be invited into something real. And for me, that door has always been opened through photographing people.
From the very beginning, my goal wasn’t just to create “nice portraits.” It was to make people feel. To feel seen, to feel strong, to feel beautiful, or like themselves again – sometimes for the first time in years. There’s no single formula for what makes a portrait work. Sometimes it hits you like a jolt – sudden and electric – like you’ve just glimpsed a hidden truth someone didn’t know they were showing. Other times, it’s something soft: the kind of portrait that draws you in slowly, reveals the glint of a secret smile, a quiet strength, a vulnerability you want to wrap in warmth. Some images tell whole stories in a glance. Others simply remind the subject of their story – something they may have forgotten.
One of the most powerful memories I have in the studio is from a few years ago. During the consultation before the shoot, a couple sat down with me to talk through the session. I asked what had brought them in, and the partner said, with quiet honesty, “I felt like [she] lost herself after the birth of our child. I wanted to give her this opportunity to find herself again. To feel good. To see herself the way I see her.” She was right there, listening. And when she later arrived for her session, it felt like she showed up in emotional grayscale. Soft, hesitant. Not yet convinced she deserved the space she was stepping into. But slowly – over hours filled with warmth, light, laughter, quiet moments – she began to bloom. She came back into color. By the end of the session, there was a lightness in her step. A spark in her eyes. A change you could feel, not just see. Years later, she returned for another shoot – this time after the birth of her second child. And this time, she walked in knowing. She remembered who she was. She remembered what this space held for her. The confidence was already there – it just needed a moment to rise, and when it did, it was absolutely magnetic.
These are the moments I live for. These transformations that happen not because of makeup or lighting or retouching – but because someone allowed themselves to be seen. And they saw themselves through my eyes.
What I hope people take away from a session in my studio isn’t just a set of beautiful portraits. It’s a memory. A feeling. That reminder you can hold in your hands for years to come. Because let’s be honest: we don’t all wake up feeling amazing every day. Life is full of messiness, doubt, exhaustion, and comparison. But having that one photo – that one image that says, “Yes, this is me. I’m strong. I’m stunning. I’m still here.” – can change the tone of an entire day. Sometimes, it can change the tone of a life. That’s why I created this magazine. Not as a catalog or a flyer or a sales pitch – but as an invitation. To feel something. To see yourself in these stories. To get curious. To maybe work up the courage to step in front of the camera – even if that idea makes your stomach flutter.
You don’t need to be “ready.” You don’t need to lose ten kilos or wait until you feel more confident. This space was created for you, as you are. Messy, brilliant, real. And I would be honored to help you see yourself – truly see yourself – just as the people in these pages have.
Welcome.
the magazine
September 17, 2025
