My photography is an extension of my nervous system and memory. I focus on emotion before perfection, capturing moments that feel lived-in, raw, and quietly charged rather than overly posed or polished. Light, shadow, and texture matter more to me than technical sharpness alone. I’m drawn to the in-between moments where vulnerability slips through—soft glances, tension in hands, rooms that feel like they’re holding a story. I want my images to feel intimate and confessional, as if the viewer has stumbled into a private moment rather than been invited to observe from a distance. The themes in my photography mirror my larger body of work: identity, survival, tenderness, autonomy, and the complexity of being seen. I gravitate toward emotionally honest subjects—people in their natural states, spaces that carry history, and details that suggest presence even when no one is visible. My work often balances softness with intensity, allowing beauty and discomfort to exist side by side. Rather than documenting reality as it is supposed to look, my photography asks the viewer to slow down and feel—to sit in a moment of quiet recognition where being fully myself, and fully human, is allowed, even when it’s messy, fragile, or unresolved.