Becoming

Photography has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, but it wasn’t until eleven years ago - when I bought my first full-frame Canon DSLR - that I began to take it seriously. It wasn’t just a camera; it was a commitment.

Since then, I’ve done my best to grow - to study, to experiment, to fail, and to try again. It’s only in the past six months that I’ve started to feel truly confident in my work… and perhaps more importantly, confident enough to share it. That’s been the hardest part — not the technical mastery, but the willingness to say, this is mine.

For the past two years, I’ve drawn tremendous influence from Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act. I’ve listened to it more than twenty times, and it continues to shape how I approach the act of creation itself - as something less about control and more about openness.

Steven Pressfield’s Turning Pro, Put Your Ass, The War of Art, and The Artist’s Journey reminded me that resistance is part of the process - that showing up each day, even without certainty, is the work. Bob Proctor’s Change Your Paradigm, Change Your Life reshaped how I think about growth, while Austin Kleon’s Steal Like an Artist trilogy reminded me that creativity isn’t about originality - it’s about authenticity.

Every one of those influences gave me permission to create without apology.

A few months ago, I visited Benjamin Walls’s gallery in Asheville. His photography is stunning - but what inspired me most wasn’t the subject matter, it was his execution. The way he prints, the materials he chooses, the craftsmanship in presentation - it elevated his work in a way that made me rethink my own.

That visit led me to WhiteWall. Seeing my photographs printed on their museum-grade materials for the first time was transformative. It felt complete - as though I was seeing my own work for the first time through the eyes of a collector, not just the lens of the photographer.

In many ways, that was the moment I realized how far I’d come. Not in skill alone, but in trust - trusting my vision enough to invest in it fully.

Confidence, I’ve learned, isn’t about certainty. It’s about faith - faith that what you create carries truth, even if it’s only yours.

My hope is that when people see my work, they not only see a photograph, but a reflection of that journey - years of study, doubt, patience, and eventual clarity. Every print I share now is more than an image. It’s a step toward becoming who I was meant to be.