Do you ever look at your work and think, “I feel like something’s been missing.” Or, “I used to feel differently when I looked at my photos, and now I feel… nothing.” Well, after having a four-year love affair with a single lens set-up, I’ve come to terms with the fact that something has, in fact, been missing.

Admitting that to myself is kind of a bummer. I really wanted a single lens set-up to work, because it gave me versatility via a versatile zoom lens and less back-pain because I was carrying less gear, but I was also missing something I could no longer deny: beauty.

*Alaska Railroad Coastal Classic near Anchorage, Alaska USA 2018*

It’s not like the photos I took for the past several years were entirely lacking in beauty. I mean, my gosh, I’ve visited some of the most gorgeous places I can think of — Glacier National Park, Central Colorado, and Paris, France to name a few — and gotten some of my favorite images in my personal and stock photography catalog. Not to mention images I’ve gotten of my clients over the past several years - the families and weddings, the moments that spoke to the viewer and gave lasting pieces of documentation that will hold importance for the rest of their lives. Those were certainly not compromised.

However there’s been a certain je nais se quois missing, a certain element that made me feel something when I looked at my photos.

You know when you try to tell yourself that a certain piece of clothing is cute, but really… it’s cute for someone else? Like, there’s nothing inherently wrong with it, and there’s nothing wrong with trying something new, and like… anyone can wear what they want, but some things just don’t feel right for you. I think that’s what happened with my photography.

I’ve seen loads of photographers create masterpieces with their zoom lenses and high apertures, with extreme lighting and eye-bending composition. I thought I could embrace that, especially if it meant a lighter load in my camera bag. It would be my evolution, how I matured into a “real”, respected photographer. I had determined that shallow depth of field and blurry backgrounds were a crutch that I needed to leave behind, and also, leaving behind those extra lenses would mean I wouldn’t be in crutches, because my poor body was struggling with the literal weight.

*Reinisch Rose Garden, Topeka, Kansas USA 2024*

But here’s the thing: in doing so, I had to deny to myself what led me to fall in love with photography almost 20 years ago.

When I first started in photography, I just followed what I intuitively found beautiful. At first it was just about achieving a blurry background and understanding how to get a nice bokeh (hello wide apertures!), and then it became about understanding light and how much good light could make a huge difference (bring on the reflectors and light modifiers). A couple years down the road, I discovered the unique beauty of zoom lenses, understanding they were more than a telescope to see far away things more closely — they also smoothed, blurred, and compressed backgrounds in a delicious way (hello 135mm and 70-200mm!). Combine that with thoughtful composition, the occasional unique foreground element, and a splash of whimsy, and things got really fun.

With each added element though, I also had that much more to carry. The physical weight of gear combined with the mental load of decisions (which lens was right for which situation?) had begun to wear on me. An impasse presented itself - I had aching shoulders and an angry back, knees that seemed misaligned, and the bones in my feet aching for orthotics with a job that I was not leaving anytime soon. Something had to give, and that’s when I found the single lens setup. One camera body, one lens, one relieved photographer. Such limitations required that I make sacrifices though - my focal length would be limited to 70-105 mm depending on the lens, and I wouldn’t shoot at an aperture lower than f/4.0 or f/2.8 again - also depending the lens.

*Curecanti Creek Trail, Colorado, USA 2022*

Visually things would look a little different, and so naturally, the way I took photos had to change so things still looked dynamic. Composition, creative lighting, and wildly unique moments became king. Dynamic imagery was the path forward, but if I’m being honest, it never really felt right for me. Often times, I felt like an impersonator trying to fit in with the cool kids, and honestly, not being very successful at it. In trying to conform to another style, I abandoned my initial artistic intuition, diluting the essence of my work in the process. While it served me well for a time when I needed a change, recognizing the weariness that comes from repeatedly doing a job seemingly in isolation, surviving a pandemic, enduring endless self-criticism and comparison, encountering financial difficulties, facing odd hours and missing life-events of loved ones due to photographing those of others, the time had come to dust off my shoes (and my old lenses) and reclaim a beauty I once lost.

You might say that in trying to survive in this business, I lost sight of my North Star, of the driving force behind why I ever liked taking photos in the first place.

*Logan Pass, Glacier National Park, Montana, USA, 2020*

Now I believe I’ve found my compass, and after a little detour, am back on the trail, one I was convinced was wrong, even though it so innately aligned with my internal sense of wonder and beauty.

So enough of the abstract ideologies, what does that mean practically?

It’s going to look like reintroducing the yumminess of a shallow depth of field with wider apertures and bokeh bokeh bokeh while embracing compression and blurred backgrounds with longer lenses. I never stopped seeking pretty light, but I have a feeling light leaks and lens flares will be making a comeback in my portfolio. Something I plan to carry over from this 4 year long experiment is the layering of foreground elements. Bring on the out of focus, indistinguishable flowers and tall grasses because those speak to me (and feeling something is the goal here).

The journey back to beauty, and honestly, back to self, isn’t necessarily going to happen overnight, but I certainly hope that what comes from it is a restored love for photography, and more than anything, work I love and am excited to share — not because I think you’ll love it, but because I know that I love it, I engaged with it, I fought for it, and my hope would be that you find delight, joy, and wonder in it too.

*Monet’s Gardens, Giverny, France, 2023*

That’s probably the weirdest thing about creating for ourselves, is that it oddly becomes not about us, but about everyone else, about inviting others to step into the very thing we’re passionate about, giving them a window into something wonderful, that perhaps they never would’ve experienced and even better inspiring them to create as well.

Thanks for making it this far in this very wordy post, made entirely by my brain and not an AI robot, I should add. It was honestly so freeing to sit down and think through some thoughts that have been swimming around. I’m so grateful to all of you who have followed along with me through this photography journey, who’ve entrusted your personal histories to me, who’ve been up for my silly ideas, and largely - who are just kind. I’m not always the best at remembering to answer my e-mails or being perfectly on time, but I’ve been a recipient of so much grace and appreciation of which I’m endlessly grateful.

You might not notice the shift in my work, but I will. It’ll be intentional, intuitive, and led by one of my heart’s longest desires — the pursuit of beauty. I can’t wait to see what happens.

If it’s not pretty, I don’t want it.

It’s Like Rain on Your Maternity Photos Day