The kind of day where heat clings to everything. Your skin sticks to your shirt. Your camera fogs up between frames. The air itself feels heavy, and every step kicks up dust that never really settles.
This show tested every rider, every horse, and every ounce of my own focus behind the lens. Not because of the competition—but because the conditions were relentless.
Photography at an event like this is a thrilling challenge. The lighting is hard, the action moves fast, and the atmosphere pulses with excitement. Shooting handheld, I focused on freezing those split seconds where movement and emotion merge—a glance, a leap, a stance.
On September 11, 2001, nearly 3,000 lives were lost in a single morning. It was a moment that reshaped history — not just for America, but for individuals, families, and communities around the world. For many of us, that day is not a chapter in a textbook — it’s a memory. A feeling. A silence. A tear.
This month, I’m sharing a series of blog posts (Wednesdays for x days or until x) that revisit a chapter of my creative career that taught me some of the hardest lessons about worth, boundaries, and the cost of giving too much in the name of loyalty, trust, or “just one more favor.”
Storm Ride was captured in 2019, deep in the hills of Appalachian Ohio. A young rider—undeterred—was riding uphill as storm clouds built behind her. The air had shifted. The kind of quiet that only comes before a storm had settled in. And still, she rode forward.
It’s not often that I step away from the barn and into the world of weddings. As an equine photographer, my usual subjects are four-legged, hay-loving, and prone to sticking their noses in my lens. But every so often, the right opportunity comes along—and I say yes.