Some images don’t just live in our memory—they haunt it. They tug at something deeper than aesthetics. They remind us of a feeling, a time, a truth we thought we’d forgotten. As a photographer, I strive to create work that doesn’t just land on a wall but lingers in the soul. And when that kind of work is recognized in fine art competitions, it’s not just validating—it’s a sign I’m on the right path.
Over the past few years, a few of my images have earned Honorable Mentions in international competitions like the International Photography Awards (IPA), ND Awards, and Prix de la Photographie, Paris (Px3). Each of these awards is fiercely competitive, judged by curators, editors, and industry leaders. Thousands of photographers submit each year from all over the globe. To be named at all is rare. To be awarded? It's staggering.
So why these images? What made “Rewarded Moments” “Pink Tulip”, “The Soul of The Horse”, “ The Dahlia”, and “Red Rose” resonate not just with me, but with international juries?
I believe it’s because they carry weight beyond the visual. They’re not just pretty pictures—they’re moments distilled with emotional gravity. The grit of rural life, the sacred pause between horse and rider, the way color can whisper something unspeakable—these elements live in the images. They’re not staged. They’re not trying too hard. They just are. And they tell the truth of what I see and feel in the Appalachian and equestrian worlds I photograph.
These honors gave me something I didn’t know I needed: permission to keep going.
Submitting work to contests is a leap every time. It costs time, money, and energy, with no guarantee of recognition. But those acknowledgments—especially in contests as selective as IPA, ND, and Px3—told me I wasn’t just dreaming. I was communicating. I was reaching across borders and genres and touching something that judges, artists, and viewers could feel.
This year, I’ve submitted another round of entries. A new crop of work that feels just as raw, just as ambitious, just as heartfelt.
As a photographer, my goal is to create images that stop people in their tracks. The kind that leave an echo. But the reality is—we don’t always make contest-worthy work every year. Not every season produces a standout. Some years are quieter, more transitional, more about experimenting or documenting for the sake of process. That’s part of the craft, too.
This year has been an anomaly. I’ve had one of the strongest crops of images I’ve ever created—work that feels emotionally charged, technically sound, and rooted in a clear point of view. I’m proud of it, no matter what happens. But of course, I hope. I hope one or two break through beyond Honorable Mention. I hope the judges feel what I felt when I made them.
Because some images stay with us. And when they do, they remind us why we make them in the first place.