What I love most about photography is photographing people. About four years ago, I finally worked up the courage to take my first street portrait. I had always been drawn to the idea of photographing strangers, but the fear of rejection kept me at a distance. Looking back now, that fear feels almost silly. On the other side of that fear has been a lifetime of meaningful, unexpected interactions with people I never would have met if I had stayed small and guarded. Heck, taking street portraits even led directly to one of my personal film projects: HERE - and that’s the thing with street portraits; you never know where they will lead you.
In many ways, street portraiture marked a creative rebirth for me. Each time I showed up, the fear that once felt so loud grew quieter. I began to see how much possibility lived inside a simple act of approaching someone with curiosity and respect. This practice taught me more than any textbook ever could, and it quietly reshaped how I relate to people through a camera. Over time, it also gave me a deeper sense of ease and confidence when photographing or filming people I already know, as well as on film sets. Having been rejected so many times on the street, rejection itself no longer feels so threatening.
This small collection is a mix of both: portraits of strangers and portraits of people from my own life. Different contexts, same practice. Showing up, paying attention, and allowing someone to be seen.
And maybe the most important lesson of all is this: people, no matter how different or intimidating they might seem at first, are for the most part deeply warm, generous, and thoughtful when given the chance.
If you’ve ever felt the pull to photograph strangers, I’d encourage you to listen to it. Whether or not you consider yourself a photographer, the simple act of approaching someone with curiosity has a way of giving back far more than it asks.
