I have been taking photos for as long as I can remember. Long before I knew what a career was, or what it meant to be an artist, I had a camera in my hands. I was eight years old when I first started shooting with a green Poloroid camera. At that age, I did not have language for composition, light, or storytelling - or even what I like to take photos of. I just knew that when I looked through a lens, the world made more sense. Things slowed down. Details became important. Moments felt worth holding onto.

I think photography stuck with me because I realized that so often, it mirrors the life experience. I notice small shifts in light. I pay attention to patterns, textures, and movement. I am drawn to what is real and fleeting. A photograph, when done honestly, becomes a moment you can step back into. Not a performance. Not a setup. A window - and nature has always been central to that pull.

I love nature photography. It offers something rare in modern life, escape, silence and so often, solace. When I am alone outdoors and behind my camera, the noise drops away. The constant pull of devices, schedules, and expectations fades into the background. Nature does not ask anything from you - except maybe to slow down and not rush it. It surely doesn’t. It does not care if you are productive. It simply exists. Being in that space allows me to reset and reconnect with myself, which ultimately makes me more present behind the camera. Nature photography teaches you patience. Light does not arrive on demand - it drive the narrrative. Weather does not cooperate because you want it to.

You learn to pause.
To observe.
To wait.
To accept.

You learn to accept what the moment gives you instead of forcing what you think it should be. This mindset shapes how I photograph everything. I am not interested in controlling a scene. I am interested in listening to it.

Living next to the ocean has given me endless opportunities to step into this place. The coastline is never the same twice. Tides shift. Fog rolls in unexpectedly. The color of the water changes by the hour. Some days, the ocean is calm and reflective. Other days it is loud, restless, and unpredictable. I can return again and again, learning its rhythms and moods. It has become both a subject and a teacher. The ocean has also reinforced my belief in showing things as they are. It cannot be staged. You meet it on its terms. That honesty is something I try to carry into all my work.

Alongside wide landscapes and natural scenes, macro photography plays a huge role in how I see the world. I love detail - I always have. Macro lets me explore how things are built and made. The structure of a leaf. The geometry inside a shell. The textures that are invisible until you slow down enough to notice them. When you look closely, you realize that complexity exists everywhere, even in the smallest spaces - kind of like you and I.

Detail is not just visual for me. The way something is constructed tells a story about function, resilience, and intention. Macro photography is about respect. Respect for the craftsmanship of nature. Respect for the layers beneath the surface. It is a reminder that there is always more happening than what we see at first glance. This attention to detail influences how I approach every shoot. I am not just looking for a subject. I am looking for relationships. How light interacts with texture. How movement creates emotion. How a single moment can reveal something deeper if you are paying attention.

I am physically involved in my work, though as I get older this gets tougher. I love getting into the positions required to get the shot. Kneeling in the sand. Lying on cold rock. Stretching, balancing, adjusting until the angle feels right. Photography is not passive for me. It is immersive. It requires presence and effort. I want to feel the environment I am capturing. I want my body to be part of the process, not separate from it. I am not afraid to drive, hike, climb, lay down, or travel to get the shot. Some of my favorite images exist because I was willing to go a little further, wait a little longer, or put myself in an uncomfortable position. That willingness is not about chasing drama. It is about commitment. If a moment feels meaningful, it is worth the effort to meet it where it lives.

Credit: Michael Dirksen

Success is not about perfection. It is about honesty. I try to take photos that feel like moments in time. Windows into something real. I am not interested in heavily staged scenes that feel disconnected from life as it is lived. Real moments are trusted moments. And trust is what creates connection.

I strive to put connection is at the center of everything I photograph - as if you’re there with me.

A photograph can connect us to a place we have never been. To a feeling we have forgotten. To a quieter version of ourselves. When someone looks at my work and feels something familiar, something grounding, something true, that matters to me. That is the goal. I want my images to feel lived in. To feel like you could step into them and stay for a while. Not to impress, but to invite. Not to overwhelm, but to resonate.

That instinct started in that eight year old boy. The tools have changed. The experience has deepened. But the core remains the same. Curiosity. Patience. Respect for the moment.

I am a photographer and an artist, but more than that, I am a witness. I witness light as it shifts across water. I witness the quiet complexity of a single detail. I witness moments that exist for a fraction of a second and then disappear. Photography allows me to hold space for those moments and share them with others. My work is shaped by silence as much as it is by image. By the time spent waiting. By the solitude of early mornings and long walks. By the physical effort required to be fully present. These are not obstacles to the work. They are the work.

If my photographs feel calm, it is because they come from calm. If they feel intimate, it is because I was close, physically and emotionally, when I took them. If they feel real, it is because they are.

This is how I see the world. This is how I move through it.

And this is what I hope you feel when you spend time with my work.