This blog has followed me through seasons of change: artistic growth, personal reinvention, victories and rejections, burnout and bold new beginnings. It’s witnessed quiet moments behind the lens and the spectacular sunrises at sea. It’s been a journal, a portfolio, a space to process, and sometimes, just a place to breathe.

In photography, we often get caught in a cycle of chasing the perfect shot, the perfect light, the perfect moment that validates our work. We wonder if our photos will impress clients, win awards, or “go viral.” But Stephen King’s words pull us back to the real heart of art—it’s a vessel for life, not a bubble we escape into to avoid living.

Good Morning, Dominica was captured in December 2012, during a long voyage abroad where the sea was home and the horizon always shifting. On this morning, we rose early—drawn from our cabins not by alarm, but by instinct. A kind of knowing. Land was near.

Island of Dominica at Sunrise is a moment—captured in the stillness between night and day, as the island slowly opened to light. Taken just before dawn, this image holds a gentle, glowing quiet: the ocean still dark with sleep, the sky brushing itself awake in soft shades of rose, blue, and silver.

If you’ve ever wondered, “So what am I, if I’m more than just a seasoned pro?”, you’re not alone. Many photographers reach a point where technical skill and experience feel like the baseline, but their work—and their creative identity—have evolved far beyond that.

My images aren’t just about documenting what’s happening in front of the camera.
They’re about creating a sense of story, mood, and emotional connection.
They’re designed to feel like something—not just show something.

Crowned in Crimson is one of those images. Photographed in full summer bloom in a the garden of Darcys Dahlias in Hilliard, OH, it centers on a single dahlia rising amid a wild chorus of color. A deep, commanding red—so rich it almost hums—this dahlia seemed to rise with purpose, unfolding itself like a flame, sculpted in velvet.

Sunset Over Cuba captures the exact moment where sea and sky dissolve into one another, bathed in the golden fire of a Caribbean evening. Taken in 2012 while I was living aboard the MV Explorer and traveling the world with Semester at Sea, this image is as much a memory as it is a photograph.

The last barrel race of July at Grizzle Ridge Arena was the kind of event that tests more than just your gear—it tests your endurance, your mental focus, and your willingness to keep going when your body begs you to quit. It was hot—maybe the second hottest show I’ve shot all summer—but it felt like the worst. The kind of heat that doesn’t just burn, it suffocates. Heavy and unmoving, like a weight pressing down on your lungs. The kind that smothers your soul and makes every step feel like a chore.

Most photographers can take a decent photo of a horse. But Exposure One Studios creates imagery that understands the horse—its form, movement, instinct, and emotional presence. That’s not a marketing phrase—it’s a rare and crucial distinction that defines her as a true niche expert in the equine photography world