I didn’t start photography chasing perfection. I started it because I liked walking — slowly — and noticing things most people passed by. As a teenager growing up in Idaho, I’d wander on my own with a Pentax camera, then wait days or weeks for film to be developed and mailed back. That waiting taught me something I didn’t have words for at the time: seeing takes patience.

Today, wandering the Oregon Coast with my camera, that same rhythm still guides me. The coast doesn’t rush. Wildlife doesn’t perform on command. Light arrives when it’s ready — not when we are. Photography, for me, is an act of listening. Whether I’m watching a heron decide when to strike, standing between ocean and sky as the tide pulls at both worlds, or leaning close enough to a flower to discover an entire universe in its center, I’m always learning the same lesson: the quiet moments are the ones that hold the most truth.

As a non-binary, genderfluid, pansexual photographer, living between worlds feels familiar. The in-between is where I’m most at home — and where my lens naturally settles. I’m drawn to edges, thresholds, pauses. Places where something is becoming, but hasn’t scattered yet.

This blog is a space to share those reflections — not as declarations, but as invitations. A place to slow down together, to notice the threads that connect land and sky, stillness and motion, self and world. If you’re here, thank you for walking with me for a moment. I’m really glad you found your way to this quiet corner.

If you’d like to explore the images that inspired these words, you can wander through my Woven Collections anytime.