I began photographing people in my late teens and early twenties, shooting test photos for fashion agencies. What stayed with me was the moment when the models saw themselves in a photograph and genuinely loved what they saw. I learned early on that a portrait can shape how a person feels about themselves, and that responsibility has guided me ever since.

What drew me to photography then is what still draws me now — expression. I have always been more interested in the person’s expression than the clothing they wore, studying faces first, searching for that subtle shift in presence that reveals something true. That early fascination became the foundation of my work.

Over the years, I learned light by studying the photographers and painters whose restraint and clarity shaped my eye: Paolo Roversi, Irving Penn, Peter Lindbergh, Rembrandt, John Singer Sargent, and Lawrence Alma-Tadema. What unites them is their devotion to simplicity and to light that sculpts rather than distracts. Their portraits feel quiet, dignified, and enduring — qualities I strive for in my own work.

When I photograph someone today, my approach is conversational and observant. I often ask clients to speak with me as if we’re having coffee. As we talk, I watch for the moment when performance falls away and the person simply is. That’s the moment I wait for.

I created Portrait Alchemy because I wanted portraits to exist in more than one dimension — whether as painterly interpretations that extend the image with imaginative depth, or as platinum/palladium prints with a physical permanence few mediums can match. Whatever form the final portrait takes, my intention is the same: to create something memorable, honest, and crafted to endure.

My hope is that the people I photograph feel safe, seen, and well represented — and that their portraits become something their families return to with quiet affection as the years pass.