For years, I poured my creativity, skill, and passion into a niche I loved—crafting one-of-a-kind posters, flyers, and marketing materials that told stories as vivid and dynamic as the performers themselves.

My work wasn’t just decoration. It was art that captured movement, emotion, and culture—something unique and authentic, made with deep understanding of the craft and community.

Dogwoods Bloom was created in late spring, deep in the hills of Belmont County, Ohio, where the first dogwood blossoms opened like quiet stars against the still-bare woods. Captured in black and white, the image strips away color so the form, light, and texture can speak in their purest voice.

It’s not just a photo. It’s everything I’ve ever learned about light, patience, timing, and trust—compressed into a single frame.

What most people don’t see is the years it took to learn how to recognize the moment, feel the emotion, and build the technical skill to capture it—not by accident, but on purpose.

Sunrise in Glacier Bay was captured in May 2019 during a cruise through Alaska’s majestic wilderness. It was 3:30 AM, and while most passengers slept, I was bundled in four layers, perched on the ship’s bow, determined not to miss a single second of the unfolding dawn.

I believe in the magic that happens when a photograph gets it right.
When a rider sees their bond with their horse captured honestly.
When a piece of art outlives the moment and becomes a memory.
When storytelling matters more than scrolling.

In Flight was captured in July 2025 during my first intentional foray into hummingbird photography. It’s a black-and-white portrait of a hummingbird mid-hover, wings blurred in motion, outlined sharply against soft, out-of-focus foliage.

Every season, I see new ideas and models pop up in the rodeo and equestrian photography world. One that’s been floating around recently is the “season pass” model—a prepaid package that guarantees riders a set number of images per event across the entire season.

There’s a unique kind of magic that happens when you look at the world through the lens of a camera. But what if you don’t just take photos? What if you paint with your shutter? That’s the space I want to live in — where photography transcends documentation and becomes an act of creation.

A Mother’s Love was taken in the soft, early morning hours of May 2023 in Appalachian Ohio. A quiet hillside barn. A small gathering of family. And one powerful moment: a mare lowering her head gently, instinctively, toward her newborn colt—her first.

But here’s what you don’t know yet:

There will be people who take. And take.
And never give anything back.

You will be called difficult the first time you say no.
You will be ignored the first time you send a bill.
You will be blocked when you ask to be paid fairly.