I’ve never called myself a “professional photographer”, just someone who’s always felt the pull to capture. A moment. A feeling. A flicker of light or something seemingly ordinary that, for some reason, just needed to be held still for a second.
I got my first camera when I was around 12, a chunky 35mm back in the days before digital even existed. I took it everywhere. Birthdays, beaches, rainy streets, random afternoons with friends. Over the years, I’ve collected decades of snapshots, memories, connections, laughter, life. The people I’ve loved. The world as I saw it.
I’m rarely in those pictures, of course. Always behind the lens. Always observing, never posed. Just quietly documenting it all.
A Creative Curosity
I’ve always resonated deeply with surrealism — the dreamlike world between thought and reality. Artists like Picasso and Salvador Dalí stir something in me. Their work gives permission to be bold, strange, symbolic, layered. In my own way, I try to paint from that place too — not always literal, but always honest. My paintings are often emotional snapshots, symbolic moments, inner landscapes.
Sometimes they come from joy. Sometimes from grief. Often from in between.
What My Photography Means to Me
It’s not about technical perfection — it’s about expression. It’s about catching the in-between. The soft glances, the slightly messy, the fleeting things that often go unseen but say the most.
Much like my painting, my photography is emotional. It reflects the moment I was in when I took it — sometimes peaceful, sometimes heavy, sometimes curious, sometimes tired but still seeing beauty in something simple.
It’s my way of honouring what’s real. What’s raw. What might otherwise be forgotten.
Through My Lens
In the gallery below, you’ll find a collection of my photography — moments I’ve chosen to hold onto and now want to share with you. Some are available as prints if something resonates or speaks to a part of your own story. Others are just here to be witnessed.
Thank you for seeing the world a little through my eyes — and maybe, seeing something new in your own.