Sometimes the best sessions come from unexpected connections.

I first met Christine through my obsession with Shelvis and the Roustabouts. Over time, she became one of my favorite dancing buddies at their shows. She’s also the partner of Donny Dark—one of the band’s lead guitar players—who surprised her with a Valentine’s Day photo session I was running earlier this year.

When Christine and I started talking about ideas, she wasn’t sure what kind of shoot she wanted. I asked about her interests, and she mentioned her love for the outdoors and horses. That was all I needed to hear.

Through my connections in the recovery community, I reached out to Serenity Stables, a beautiful nonprofit that helps people heal through connection with horses. The owner, also named Christine, and her team—especially Kelsey—welcomed us with open arms. Their kindness and passion made the entire experience unforgettable.

For Christine, this was a chance to slow down, breathe, and reconnect with something bigger than herself. The horses offered her a few kisses and created moments that felt genuinely moving. Bear, the dog, was the unexpected bonus—adding a touch of warmth and humor to the evening.

I’ll be photographing with Serenity Stables again soon, and I can’t wait to highlight the incredible work they’re doing. For now, I’m simply grateful for the day we all shared—the light, the laughter, and the reminder that connection can heal in more ways than one.

Sophia swore she wasn’t comfortable in front of the camera… and then immediately proved herself wrong. Within minutes, she was posing like she’d been doing this for years — all confidence, laughter, and those perfectly chill “yeah, I got this” vibes.

She chose a gorgeous spot where we could get it all — mountains, sky, and those golden fall colors that make Colorado show off a little. The light was perfect, the wind was on our side (mostly), and Sophia made the whole session easy.

She’s one of those people who doesn’t need to try to look natural — she just is. Sweet, genuine, and totally herself.

Every once in a while, a session finds its way to you at exactly the right time. This one did that for me.

Savannah and Trevor’s story is one of strength. You can feel it the second you’re near them. There’s a calm to their energy, but beneath it is the kind of resilience that only comes from walking through things most people don’t see — and still choosing love, still choosing life, still choosing hope.

Photographing them as they prepare to welcome a new baby into the world hit something deep in me. I’ve spent years behind the camera, capturing milestones and love stories, but this one reminded me what it’s all really about — the work it takes to get here. The unseen effort. The rebuilding. The courage to stand in front of a lens and say, “We made it to this moment.”

Lately, I’ve been questioning my purpose — wondering where I fit, what still matters. But standing there with them, watching the way they laughed together, held each other, and looked ahead with quiet pride… it brought me back. It reminded me why I started doing this two decades ago: to bear witness to love that survives.

Savannah and Trevor, thank you for letting me into this chapter — for trusting me with your truth, your joy, and your in-between moments. Photographing you reminded me that purpose always lands in connection and love.

And Dottie, thanks for coming along and sneaking your love in along the way.

Some people just belong in front of a camera. Gina is one of them.

When her mom asked me about her senior photos, I knew we had to find a spot that felt like her. Not the typical brick walls or park benches—nah. Gina is full-on gothy cemetery vibes. And we found the perfect place for her to sparkle like America’s Next Top Model.

She didn’t need direction. She just stepped in front of the lens and presented herself exactly as she is—confident, radiant, and completely at ease.

Senior sessions aren’t just about marking the end of high school. They’re about freezing this moment in time, capturing who someone really is before the next chapter starts. With Gina, you can already tell that chapter is going to be bright.

I feel so lucky I got to be the one behind the camera for her.

Days before putting on the biggest recovery event in Denver, I had the honor of photographing some of the truest faces working in the field. Coaches, directors, board members — people whose daily work doesn’t just support recovery, but actively reshapes what it looks like in Colorado.

The session felt more like a gathering of friends than a formal shoot. Many of these advocates I now call my friends, and it was moving to capture their portraits against the anticipation of the Rally for Recovery.

A heartfelt thank you to Tonya Wheeler, whose vision and support brought me into this incredible community. Tonya’s leadership has always lifted others, and I’m deeply grateful she opened the door for me to witness and document this work up close.

Advocates for Recovery Colorado is the state’s first peer-led, peer-run Recovery Community Organization. Their mission is rooted in peer recovery coaching, family support, inclusive meetings, and advocacy that reminds us all: there is more than one way to recover. They are the face and voice of recovery in Colorado — and on this day, I got to help put faces to that voice.

This gallery is just a glimpse — a handful of portraits from a much larger session. Every single person I photographed that day carries a story worth telling, and together they embody the resilience, advocacy, and heart of recovery in Colorado.

And just to make sure you were paying attention — here’s the final shot. Because recovery isn’t only serious work, it’s also joy, laughter, and sometimes even cat claws. Thank you, Advocates for Recovery Colorado, for letting me capture both the strength and the playfulness of this community.

If you happen to see a crew of weather-worn dreamers thumbing a ride on a dirt road in Colorado, do yourself a favor and stop the car. These aren’t ordinary travelers — they’re The Legendary Hitchhikers. And let me tell you, once you hear them play, you’ll be glad you picked them up.

Our session played out like a road story itself: red rocks glowing like embers, wide blue skies stretching forever, and the kind of blazing sun that makes you wonder why anyone would carry this much equipment up a hill. (Spoiler: they did. For me.)

These gentlemen didn’t just show up to play rock and roll — they showed up with kindness. When I couldn’t quite catch my breath on the climb, they stepped in without hesitation, lugging gear to keep us moving. It’s not every day your photo subjects become your road crew.

And that’s the essence of The Legendary Hitchhikers: talent mixed with generosity. On stage, they’re Denver’s longest-running tribute to Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, weaving in southern rock staples and classic gems — Eagles, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Fleetwood Mac, ZZ Top, you name it. Offstage, they’re the kind of guys who’ll help you carry the load, in every sense.

So if you see them on the roadside, don’t think twice. Pull over. Pick them up. Let them remind you what it feels like when music, kindness, and a little bit of road dust come together. And better yet — go hear them live. Crank up their set, sing along, and let these hitchhikers take you exactly where good music’s supposed to go.

The photos are new, but this adventure started on March 2, 2024.
That night, I did something for myself that lit me up like the Vegas strip.

I’d been feeling low—deep in my own head, stuck in a cycle I couldn’t quite break. Out of desperation (and maybe a flicker of hope), I checked the Facebook events page. Nothing. Refreshed again. Still nothing. But then—one more time, one more scroll—and I found Shelvis and the Roustabouts.

An Elvis tribute band? In Denver? How had I never heard of them?

As someone who lives and breathes all things Vegas, retro, and rock-n-roll, I knew I had to go. And that night, walking into that show, I had no idea I’d be walking into the arms of people who would come to mean the world to me.

I didn’t realize at first that Shelvis was a she—a powerhouse female Elvis channeling not only the King, but also the spirit of Buddy Holly, John Travolta, and more. She had the swagger, the soul, and the stage presence of a seasoned legend. And the band? Electric. Talented. Full of heart. I was blown away.

In my excited fangirl state, I handed them a business card and blurted, “If you ever need photos, I’d love to photograph you.” And then… I just kept showing up to their concerts for my heart. I brought my camera. And somehow, they didn’t just let me in—they welcomed me into their lives and their greenroom.

They became friends. Chosen family. People who not only lit up the stage, but lit up my life.

Shelvis and her partner showed up to support my debut at Denver Fringe this summer. They’ve believed in me, encouraged me, and made me feel seen during one of the most meaningful chapters of my recovery. They are more than performers. They are pure love, wrapped in compassion.

This past Sunday, I had the honor of photographing them again officially at the Buffalo Rose. The show was a full-on party—complete with scarves, stories, giveaways, and one unforgettable performance by guest saxophonist SuperSaxy. The energy was electric. The love was palpable. The crowd was all in. And I got to capture it.

I don’t always have the words to explain what people mean to me.
But I hope my photos do.

They say a photo is worth a thousand words—but it’s the stories behind the photos that stay with me.

Last week, I had the honor of photographing the wedding of Ayla and John. It was a small ceremony—intimate, heartfelt, and entirely focused on the couple and their journey. They’ll be celebrating with more friends and family at a larger reception soon, but this day… this day was just for them.

They were married in their pastor’s home, and when I walked through the “secret door,” I stopped in my tracks. The room was flooded with soft pink tones, gentle light, and an unexpected romantic warmth. It felt like stepping into a dream—a fantasy not just created, but earned.

That’s what moved me most. Every detail of the day was soaked in meaning—not performance. It wasn’t about appearances. It was about love—the real kind. The kind that grows through time and tenderness, through pain and healing, through honesty and deep, sacred work.

This is where the stories hide behind the images. And those who know them—truly know them—carry a deeper understanding.

The ceremony was filled with deep emotion—from tears to laughter. Much of that was thanks to the pastor, who not only held space for every feeling, but in many ways helped bring them to life. The faith in that room was palpable. So was the love—for each other, for the couple, and for the road that brought them to this moment.

The rings were presented by Ayla’s sons—a quiet moment that carried more weight than words could say. They stepped forward with careful hands, guided gently through the exchange. It wasn’t staged or formal. It was real. Honest. A small act that somehow held the whole meaning of the day: love, growth, and presence. Watching them share that space together made the moment feel even more sacred.

The ceremony closed with the perfect kiss—genuine, joyful, and exactly right for them. After signing the marriage license and officially sealing the day, the newlyweds and their guests boarded a party bus to Maggiano’s for dinner and celebration. The shift from ceremony to reception carried the same energy: full hearts, full presence, and a love that didn’t need to prove anything.

Dinner at Maggiano’s was as good as you’re imagining. (Of course I took food photos—and yes, I absolutely balanced the bride’s ring on pepperoni. Why wouldn’t I?) The meal was incredible, but what stood out most was the atmosphere. Guests began giving impromptu toasts—no schedule, no pressure, just genuine words from the heart. One after another, people stood up to speak love over the couple. It was emotional, unscripted, and full of truth. The kind of toasts you remember.

I often say my favorite weddings are the ones that feel personal. This one? It was more than that. It was a testament—a celebration of everything they’ve been through, and everything still ahead. And maybe most beautiful of all, it was a reminder that they don’t have to walk that path alone. They’ve got people behind them, supporting them every step of the way.

Yesterday, I opened up hard drives from the past 22 years—and found some of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever had the honor to document.

Baby Births.

I know what some of you are thinking: “Ew.”
But let me assure you—my birthing photography isn’t about the nether regions.
It’s about the moments.

A father caring for a mother.
A child patiently (or impatiently) waiting for their sibling to arrive.
The day turning into night with family anticipation.
But above all, a new mother holding her newborn for the very first time.

As I looked through the images yesterday, I cried.
These moments that I was invited into… they remind me of the best parts of humanity.
They linger with me as some of the most impactful work I’ve ever produced—not because of skill or technical ability, but because of truth, emotion, and love.

There are stories behind every photo—and behind those stories, even more.

I realized yesterday that the very first birth I photographed was in July of 2009.
That baby will turn sixteen this year.
And I wonder—without these photographs, would he know what his grandmother’s face looked like the first time she saw him?
Would he know how many people gathered to welcome him?
Or how they circled him in prayer?

That’s the magic of this work.

While reviewing two birth stories I’d photographed for the same family—years apart—I noticed a laptop open in the delivery room during the second birth.
On the screen was one of my photos: their firstborn, now a toddler, dressed in vintage attire from one of our playful sessions.

I had photographed his birth, too.

And now, years later, he was present—watching over his new sibling’s arrival in his own way.
That moment hit me like a wave.
Not just because of the photo, but because of what it represented:
A family that invited me in again. A story I was trusted to keep telling.
That’s the kind of full circle that makes this work matter.

There are so many moments like that tucked inside these archives.
So many little flashes of humanity.
So much tenderness.
So much awe.

I don’t always have the words to explain what it feels like to be behind the camera during a birth.
But maybe you’ll feel it in the images.

And maybe—just maybe—you’ll see the beauty I was lucky enough to witness.