corporate headshot, event, product, and fine art family film photographer

in studio does not mean boring | Fort Worth senior portraits

I like to work in-studio. A few reasons off the top of my head:

1. It has air conditioning. 

2. I don’t have to worry about ruining / forgetting / losing any of my equipment. 

3. I have hairspray and a restroom and all kinds of things you might need for a photo shoot. 

4. The lighting is consistent, regardless of the weather. 

5. I am no longer 20 years old which means my back doesn’t really love schlepping cameras and lights and thousands of dollars of heavy equipment with me.  

6. I honestly think the best work I do is done in-studio. 

7. Natural light is not (always) the best light.

8. It’s contained meaning toddlers cannot run too far. 

9. It’s a space that is designed to bring about a sense of relaxation and photographs can be stressful and vulnerable for some people.

10. I have coffee and Topo Chico readily available. 


Anyway, I can’t tell you how many times people say, “I’d love outdoor, natural light photos,” and I do that. I’ve done that for years. I do that well. But, I don’t know that I do it well in August. Nor July. June is a tossup. May might be showers or flowers. April always gets rescheduled. March might bring a pandemic. February is too cold for my taste. And January, well, that’s generally a time when my phone doesn’t ring because the holidays broke everyone’s bank. I don’t work in December…I do holiday cards. That’s my work. Haha! I don’t photograph in December though because Black Friday and all of the product photography generally threatens to send me under the covers screaming. 


So, for outdoors in Texas, that leaves September, October, and November. I’m putting together my fall calendar and I’m excited about some upcoming sessions at golden hour with families I’ve photographed for years. 


For this senior portrait session, he said, “Let’s keep it simple,” and he didn’t want to be sweating all over the westside of Fort Worth, so he came in to my studio at a leisurely 10 am, and he left before 11 am to go about his life. I just want you to see what magic can occur in-studio. For seniors, I always need to produce a pulled-back photo for the yearbook along with some other editorial inspired photos that make you look like you just stepped out of a magazine, some portraits the parents and grandparents will love, and some portraits that push the edges on what’s possible creatively. I love how this set turned out. 

If you’re interested in setting up a studio session, send me a message, or you can find my calendar HERE, where you can book a call or a session. 


it took a pandemic for me to…

I like to ask my followers and friends to complete this sentence: “it took a pandemic for me to…”

It took a pandemic for me to find the studio space of my dreams. For the past three years, I’ve subleased community studios in town, and as grateful as I am for the flexibility to lease space only when I need it…I need space. I am creative only when I have the space to create. Quiet, solo space. 

I found this studio in the beginning of April, right after everything closed. The timing seemed awful, except that for perhaps the first time in the history of my career, I had time to furnish a new space. I moved all of my equipment out of the closet in my son’s room. I have a permanent studio on West Vickery, a glorious 0.6 miles from my home– close enough to come home for lunch and far enough away to leave my work when I come home. 

This was the first of many narrative brand sessions I’ll do here with Marty Young, who’s a life coach and entrepreneur who sells clothing for Savvi and some products to help women live well. The vibe was bright and airy, fun and feminine. It allowed me to blend my love of portraits and product work. It was seamless– other than all of the covid-19 stuff leading up to when we could safely do the shoot. 

And, Marty mentioned how comfortable I made her feel, which really warmed my heart. I feel as if my work as a photographer is not just to create well lit and composed images that tell a story, I know how nerve wracking it can be to be photographed, so I want the people who trust me to feel at ease in my presence. She is incredibly fit and didn’t want to intimidate people with her physical strength, but when I see these photos, I feel inspired to move my body and celebrate what it can do. I hope you do, too. 




quarantine stories: Fort Worth, Texas:: Part I

Hello, World. I love you. 

I see you. This is hard. 

You are not alone.

We are alone, together. 

Let us pause. 

Be still. Grateful. Still. 

Keep breathing. 

Please don’t forget to breathe. 

Big breath in, 

Big breath out.

Love in,

Love out. 

Love is Infinite. 

Into its depths we are diving.

And, there— we are never alone. 

Repeat after me: 

I am healthy and whole 

in mind, body, and soul. 

When I pull back the veil of 

anger, fear, and scarcity, 

I find we are connected 

through our love. 

You are not alone.

We are alone, together. 

Let us pause. 

Be still. Grateful. Still. 

Breathe in God,

Breathe out Fear. 

The only way out, 

is in. 

Lean in. 

Feel it— 

however it feels.

Feel every feel. 

We’re all in this together—

alone together:

humanity,

unity, 

One. 

There is strength in the broken places. 

There is always hope to be found if you keep seeking. 

Trust your hopes and 

not your fears. 

Honor the fear, but shift the outcome 

in light. 

See the sparkling light—

Shine.

Reach toward it. 

Awaken to your light, your truth.

Let no outside force pull you away

from your center, 

your power, your light, your Truth.

You need not add power to omnipotence. 

You are not alone.

We are alone, together. 

Let us pause. 

Be still. Grateful. Still. 

Look for the lovely. 

It’s there if you look for it. 

Beauty all around us. 

Connection through the miles. 

Grace.

Find and share your kindness. 

Grace and kindness are possible.

Embrace new ideas 

of service and self-care.

This will change several times a day. 

Everything changes.

There is no need to be afraid. 

You are not alone.

We are alone, together. 

Let us pause. 

Be still. Grateful. Still. 

Let us remember to be grateful for small moments. 

We offer immense gratitude to those of you on the frontlines.

We are nourished,

nursed and nurtured

because of you—

your courage,

your service 

your sacrifice. 

“This is what I was made to do,” you say, 

“It is my calling. 

I embrace the fear, 

the duty, 

the heart, the soul 

of medicine

every day.”

You are not alone.

We are alone, together. 

Let us pause. 

Be still. Grateful. Still. 

Please love yourself fiercely. 

As you love us, always. 

We sit here in the calm.

Meanwhile, you’re in the eye of the storm. 

When I forget, may I remember to ask myself:

Who am I being right now? 

Grant that I may seek not so much to be consoled as to console. 

For it is in giving that we receive. 

Be the light for those who are confused or doubtful. 

Take the action.

Let go of the outcome. 

All of the world is suddenly reduced 

to the cry of a baby at midnight

and I am grounded again. 

Our sweet Mother Earth is powerful and capable of rather remarkable 

healing 

when given rest. 

The same is true for me and you.

You are not alone.

We are alone, together. 

Let us pause. 

Be still. Grateful. Still. 

Baby steps. 

Let there be peace on Earth,

and let it begin with me.

With every step I take—

Baby steps. 

May we lean into uncertainty,

open our hearts to the values of change,

May we carry forth the best parts of 

this recalibration 

and cling to the only real

Source of healing— 

each other

for the rest of our living days.

From our front porches, 

we’ll paint a new reality. 

We will get through this. 

We will survive.

We are going to be okay.

Baby steps. 

And, maybe,

just maybe,

on the other side of this,

we will come together 

with more profound respect 

for the Earth,

each other, 

and the things we cannot change. 


Using Format