Some moments are too fleeting to notice—until a photograph brings them back.

I grew up in a house full of women, where a camera was almost always nearby. My mom documented everything: photos, home videos, quiet afternoons that didn’t seem important at the time. Back then they felt ordinary. Now they feel like pieces of time we were lucky enough to keep.

Looking back at those images now, I understand what she was really preserving. Not just milestones, but the small, fleeting moments that make up a life. Those photographs became a kind of archive; of memory, of time passing, of the people who shaped me. That perspective quietly follows me into the way I photograph today.

I’m drawn to moments that feel honest and unforced. The in-between glances, soft laughter, the quiet kind of closeness that doesn’t need direction. My work leans moody, nostalgic, and cinematic; less about perfection, more about feeling.

More than anything, I want the images I create to last. The kind you return to years later and feel the moment come back to you, just as it was.