A woman with short brown hair sitting on a beige cushioned seat against a wooden wall, resting her head on her hand, wearing a brown sleeveless sweater and dark pants.

Whenever I visit my childhood home, I find myself drawn to the old closet at the top of the stairs—the one where my mother kept our family photo albums. I peel back the brown seventies binders, tinged with yellowing inserts, and leaf through photographs of my family.

I see my mom and dad in their first house. My Uncle Jimmy, who died young, helping them fix it. Both sets of grandparents, side by side, laughing at my oldest sister's first birthday. My mother looks beautiful. I see my three sisters with suspicious-looking haircuts giggling by a roadside fair. I see a photo of me around age 8 that I had never seen before. Alone, on a dock, in the middle of a lake with a fishing pole in my hand. I still don’t know who took it.

I was the youngest of four sisters— quiet, bookish, and perpetually watching. I spent a lot of time observing, and somewhere in that stillness I fell in love with story.

Light has always felt a little sacred to me. Sometimes I feel like if I can capture it in just the right way, I can find a way to articulate the tenderness I have for life.

I first fell in love with photography while studying at the University of Texas, where I studied under Magnum and UN photographers. I was always trying to reconcile my deep love for beauty with my care for the people of the world. Photography felt like a way to do both.

After university I moved to Los Angeles, started a social justice magazine, and assisted film directors. Then I fell in love with a man who loved poetry and plants. We escaped to a little farm in Southern Oregon — flower gardens, salmon in the river behind the house, wide open sky. It was beautiful and it was too quiet. I found out I needed stories around me.

If my childhood home were to burn down, those dusty albums would be the first thing I'd gather into my arms. They hold our stories. Our personalities. Our love.

That's what I want to create for you. Something honest. Something that lasts. Even in the chaos. Even through the tears. This is our one precious life (that I know of). What could be more beautiful than turning it into art?

Kids dressed as clowns and princesses celebrating at a party, smiling and playing together.
A young girl wearing a cowboy hat, red sweater, light blue jeans, and black boots, standing in a kitchen.
A young woman with long hair stands outdoors near a body of water, wearing a sleeveless top, jeans, and sandals.
A woman dressed in vintage attire with a long, flowing dress and puffed sleeves, standing and smiling for the camera.