For Rob, who taught me how to see what I could not.

Photography has been the constant thread through my life.

I began taking photographs as a child, first with a Kodak Instamatic and later in a high school darkroom, where black-and-white prints and chemical trays taught me to see through light and shadow. From the moment I placed my first sheet of paper into developer, I knew photography would be my language. It became both my life’s work and my profession, leading me to a career as a photographer and teacher of photography.

Over the years, photography has been many things: an escape, a refuge, and a way to survive. When life demanded everything—grief, responsibility, reinvention—photography remained. Quiet. Patient. Unconditional.

After profound loss and transformation, my work has become slower, closer, and more intimate. I am drawn to what remains after change—traces, fragments, repetitions, and natural patterns that echo larger truths. My recent work explores fractals, macro details, and liminal spaces: places where one thing becomes another, where meaning is not loud but precise.

These images are not about documenting the world as it is supposed to be seen. They are about how I see the world.

Photography is not separate from my life. It is the thread that runs through it—deepening with time. Each body of work reflects a moment of becoming: not an ending, but a continuation.

This work is about presence.
And what remains.