On Friday, I photographed Recovery’s Got Talent, an Advocates for Recovery talent show, hosted by CrossPurpose—an organization committed to radical inclusion and generational change. Every performer that night demonstrated recovery. And every performance was met with celebration, laughter, applause, and deep respect.

This space didn’t just preach transformation—it embodied it. It was spiritual without being exclusive. There was a cross on the stage… and open arms for everyone who walked through the door. That kind of welcome is rare. And deeply needed.

There was one performance in particular that caught me off guard—the kind that hits your chest in a way you can’t quite explain. One of the final performers sang “Maybe This Time” from Cabaret, and the moment she opened her mouth, I felt a lump rise in my throat.

That song… it holds so much. Hope. Desperation. A fragile kind of belief.

Maybe this time, I’ll be lucky.
Maybe this time, he’ll stay.

Hearing her sing it—bravely, beautifully—was a mirror I wasn’t prepared for. Because while I’ve spent years recovering from trauma, illness, and loss… there’s another kind of recovery I don’t talk about much: the recovery of the parts I’ve quietly abandoned.

Like my voice.

There was a time I was certain I’d be a vocalist. I trained for it. Dreamed of it. Built my sense of self around it. But somewhere along the way—between motherhood, survival, advocacy, and all the noise of life—I let it go. I stopped singing for me.

And in that moment, watching her stand onstage and absolutely own that song… I realized I miss that part of myself more than I’ve let myself admit.

Her courage reminded me: I’m not done.
I still want to use my voice.
I still need to sing. Not just as a puppet, but as me.

And maybe this time… I will.

Recovery isn’t always obvious. It’s not always about what’s been destroyed. Sometimes, it’s about what’s been set down. And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is pick it back up.

Every performer brought their own spark and story to the stage. They showed their fire, which radiated like the heat of the building. Nothing stopped them from being heard.

Recovery allows us to imagine a bright future. It allows us to see what are path might be. We must step onto that stage and claim it.

So, I’ll ask you.
What part of you is ready to claim their spotlight.
What would it look like if you went all in?

At the Denver Fringe Festival, I had the absolute joy of attending The Big Bug Adventure four times in one weekend—twice in English, twice in Spanish—and yes, I still would’ve gone back for a fifth.

Created by the wildly talented Katy Williams of Katy Williams Designs, this puppet show follows the story of Stripes (the worm), who’s on a journey to live their best dance party life. But let’s be real: getting to the dance party isn’t always easy.

As with most things, there may be a few obstacles. (Some may even be intentional road blocks put in our way!)

This show is packed with surprises, lovable characters, and an incredible amount of audience participation—and not just the “clap along” kind. Kids are in it. Helping. Problem solving. Cheering. Laughing. Fully part of the story from beginning to end.

But what really got me were the lessons. Subtle, gentle, and beautifully woven into Stripe’s story:

🐛 Sometimes we face big obstacles—and they feel a little too big for our tiny worm bodies.
🌿 Sometimes we fall down. And when we do, we have to figure out how to get back up.
🪱 Sometimes we need to ask for help—even when we really don’t want to.
🦋 Sometimes we misjudge someone—and we need to talk about it.
🐞 It’s okay to cry. Really. But we also need to stay open to solutions.
🐜 And sometimes? You ask two friends for help… and seven show up. (Best moment.)

At its core, The Big Bug Adventure is about community, connection, resilience—and possible dancing.

It’s full of heart. It’s full of laughter.
And in the end? Does Stripes get to the dance party? There is only one way to find out!

This show is available in both English and Spanish and would be perfect for birthday parties, schools, libraries, and community events. I can’t recommend it enough.

Reach out to Katy Williams Designs to bring The Big Bug Adventure to a stage—or park—near you.

The words I share here won’t come close to capturing the full weight of Blue Silk.

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to photograph a number of beautiful performances at the Denver Fringe Festival—but this one stayed with me. Blue Silk slipped under my skin and settled somewhere familiar. As someone who has spent years working in mental health and substance misuse, this show didn’t feel like a story—it was something I have seen. Something I’ve understood.

Told through dreamlike puppetry and quiet devastation, Blue Silk follows a puppet grappling with an addiction to silk. But what unfolds is far more than a metaphor. It’s a portrait of longing, of dependency, of consumption—one that doesn’t preach, but holds up a mirror with startling tenderness.

There are moments in this production I keep returning to. The puppet is struggling, unraveling in front of us—and the puppeteers surround it. You can see their faces. The concern. The love. The helplessness. The heartbreak.

And I’ve seen these scenes before.

I’ve witnessed them in hospital rooms. In kitchens. In quiet bedrooms after everything has fallen apart. The people who love, trying so hard to help, and not knowing how. These moments in the show are the most emotionally honest pieces of performance I’ve ever witnessed—with or without puppets.

Cinco, the writer, director, and puppet designer, has created a haunting, fragile world that echoes truths we’re often too afraid to say out loud. Blue Silk explores the toll of addiction—on the body, on the earth, on each other—and does so with poetic precision. It’s a warning, yes, but it’s also a reaching hand.

As anyone who has ever been witness to a story like this will know, there is deep sorrow within the layers of this piece.
Still, Cinco manages to share something so vitally important–
hope.

There are some people who speak with authority, and others who speak with heart.
Brooke does both.

In recovery for the past five years, Brooke has used her lived experience not just to heal herself—but to lift others up.She’s become a pillar in the recovery community, reminding those around her that connection saves lives, and that no one should ever have to walk this path alone.

When she reached out to me for portraits in celebration of being selected to present at the Peer Rural Conference, I was honored to say yes.

Brooke will be leading a breakout session, sharing her story and insights in the same heartfelt way she supports her community every day. Her presence in that space is more than just a speaker slot—it’s a testament to how far she’s come and how many people she continues to reach.

During our time together, Brooke shared pieces of her journey—what she’s survived, what she’s building, and the way her future is being shaped by the community she continues to serve. What stood out most wasn’t just the strength in her story—it was the gentleness in the way she tells it.

Brooke is the kind of person who makes people feel safe. Seen. Less alone.
She shows up for others not because she has to, but because she believes in the power of being there. She knows what it’s like to struggle. She also knows the power of being met with understanding—and now, she’s paying that forward in every space she steps into.

This session wasn’t just about capturing a headshot. It was about honoring a woman who shows up for her community with her whole heart. A woman who gets it, and still chooses hope.

Brooke, Congratulations on being selected to share your vision at the Peer Rural Conference—you represent what’s possible when we heal out loud, and when we lead with love.

When someone sets a vision for themselves—and really commits to it—it’s a powerful thing to witness.
And when that person is your friend, it’s something even deeper.
It’s an honor.

My dear friend Michael set a goal: to transform his fitness before his 40th birthday. Not for anyone else. Not for show. For himself. And he did it—with the same strength, grace, and dedication he brings to every part of his life.

Michael has always been strong.
But strength isn’t just what you can see.

Before our shoot, we sat and talked—about his journey, about healing, about the long roads we sometimes have to walk back to ourselves. What always impresses me about Michael isn’t just his discipline or his results.
It’s his soul.

Michael carries a warmth, a compassion, and a depth of insight that could change the world if more people were lucky enough to hear him speak. He understands the human condition—not in a distant, clinical way—but with a genuine kindness that makes you want to be better simply by being in his orbit.
I could honestly listen to him for hours.

When we started shooting, Michael didn’t just show up physically—he showed up fully.
Every movement, every moment, was a reflection of the work he’s done inside and out. He gave himself a workout during that shoot, and he let me capture something beyond muscle:

Character. Dedication. Transformation. Truth.

Photographing him was a reminder of why I love what I do.
Because when you get to witness someone stepping into themselves—and you get to honor it through your lens—there’s no better feeling in the world.

Michael, you are the embodiment of strength, heart, and vision.
Thank you for trusting me to capture this chapter of your story.
You inspire more than you know.

This is Amber. Pound Fitness Instructor. Rockstar. True Warrior.

And I know a thing or two about warriors.

When my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, I was a teenager. I remember asking her if she was going to die. She looked at me and said, “I don’t know. But I’m going to fight every step of the way.”

And she did.

She showed up for her family, for her life, for herself—through the pain, through the chemo, through moments when we almost lost her. She never stopped being my mom. That was the moment I learned what a real warrior looks like. And once you’ve seen a warrior like that, you recognize that energy when it kicks in the door.

Amber doesn’t just kick. She’ll pound down anything standing in her way. And cancer got in her way.

From the moment I met her, I was drawn in by her stick-it attitude—the kind of spirit that doesn’t just go through life, but pounds through it. (Yes, the pun is intentional.) She was already a regular in the Pound Fitness world, and always encouraged me to try it. But I had a long list of reasons not to—my size, my knees, my coordination… you name it, I gave the excuse.

But when Amber asked me to photograph her Pound: Colon Cancer Awareness event, everything in me said yes.

When you know someone has walked through fire and is still showing up, still leading, still smiling and creating space for others to thrive—you honor that. You witness it. You celebrate it.

Photographing this event was a privilege.

What I saw in that room wasn’t just a fitness class. It was a full-blown rock concert of resilience. There was music, laughter, sweat, joy—and Amber, right at the center of it, surrounded by people who had clearly shown up that day because of her. Some were familiar faces from my past, and I knew—just by the way they looked at her—they were there because Amber got them through the door.

That’s what real warriors do.

They don’t just survive.
They lead.
They inspire.
They remind the rest of us what we’re capable of.

And they aren’t afraid to do it with poop on their head. (Just sayin’.)

A few months back, I told Amber how much I admired that she kept showing up through everything. She simply said:

“Well, I had to.”

Did she have to? No. She chose to.
But for Amber? There wasn’t another option.

That’s a warrior.

She knew people were counting on her.
She knew the power of showing up.
And she did it—again and again.
Inspiring all the way.

What I captured that day was more than a class.
It was a room full of rockstars, every single one of them pounding out fear, doubt, excuses, and showing up loudly for themselves and each other.

Amber creates that space. She builds that energy. And being in it—watching her lead with that signature fire, surrounded by people clearly there because she inspires them—**she inspired me, too.

Yoga mat? Purchased. Pound class? Located. Ripstix? On the way.

Every once in a while, the universe hands you a moment so perfectly aligned with who you are that you can’t help but sit back and whisper, damn, I am so lucky.

That moment? It happened when Katy Williams, puppeteer extraordinaire, asked me to photograph a session that was more than just images—it was a celebration of artistry, passion, and the joy of bringing characters to life. And where did we get to do it? The stunning Psycullescence: A Garden of Imagination exhibit at the Marie Walsh Sharpe Gallery in Colorado Springs. A place where creativity breathes, and where we got to step inside a living, breathing work of art.

I was already thrilled to be there, but meeting the mind behind the exhibit, Patrick Shearn of Poetic Kinetics, was an absolute honor. His work doesn’t just hang in a space—it moves, flows, and invites you into something bigger than yourself.

But back to the real heart of this blog—the puppeteers.

Katy Williams: A Powerhouse in Puppetry

I met Katy last year at Rocky Mountain Puppet Slam, and from the moment she stepped into my world, I knew she was one of those people. The kind who makes an impact just by existing. She educates, builds, creates, and performs. She is all in on puppetry, and it shows. When she works, you can see the love in her hands, in the way she moves, in the way her eyes light up when she brings something to life. It’s the same feeling I get when I work my own puppets. Pure, unfiltered joy.

Kilah Storm: Breathing New Life into Puppetry

Then there’s Kilah Storm—a puppeteer unlike any other. When I say she brings new life to puppetry, I mean that quite literally. She incorporates taxidermy into her puppetry, blending art and preservation in a way that is both haunting and breathtaking. She sees life as something to be celebrated, reborn, and honored. And the way she carries that into her work? Nothing short of magic.

Let’s Get Personal

Here’s where this story gets personal—the blessings that really hit me.

After the session, Katy and Kilah took me to lunch. And they didn’t just ask about my work—they asked about me. About Roxie and The Mental Felts, the casting call I had recently posted, my puppetry goals, dreams, and vision. They listened. They encouraged. They made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t experienced before—through the eyes of accomplished puppeteers.

And then? Kilah asked to hear more.

We set up a meeting, we talked, and now—she’s officially part of The Mental Felt Family. Not only is she an amazing puppeteer, but she’s also proving to be quite the videographer and, more importantly, a friend.

Gratitude, Joy, and the Power of Connection

This session wasn’t just about capturing beautiful portraits. It was about connection. About the unexpected ways that art weaves people together. About the pure joy of watching someone light up when they do what they love.

Photography has always been a gateway for me—an open door to new friendships, new opportunities, and new stories waiting to be told. And this? This was one of those moments that reminds me why I do what I do.

Nothing makes me feel more joyful than having a puppet in one hand and a camera in the other. And joy is what life should be all about.

Some people step into the world with fire already burning in their souls. Vanessa? She is the fire.

Proud. Fierce. Unapologetically herself. A two-spirited transgender woman with a heart big enough to carry a whole community and the strength to lift them higher. She is a force—one that doesn’t just survive but thrives, loves, and leads with a kind of courage that most people could only dream of.

When Vanessa said she wanted to do a photoshoot that captured her in full—every ounce of her power, resilience, and truth—it wasn’t just about taking pictures. It was about reclaiming space. About standing tall in the light. About looking the world dead in the eye and saying, I am here, I am whole, and I will not be moved.

She chose warrior face paint—bold, unapologetic, and deeply symbolic. A reflection of who she has always been: a fighter, a healer, a guiding force in the world of recovery. To bring her vision to life, we found an incredible artist from Face Fiestas, who absolutely nailed the design with stunning precision and artistry. (Though, thanks to my own inability to read, they will forever be known in my heart as Face Fajitas—a name that has now taken on a life of its own.)

But let’s talk about what really matters here. Vanessa’s impact is bigger than words. She is a walking revolution—a beacon for those in recovery, for the LGBTQIA+ community, for anyone who has ever felt like the world tried to erase them.

She meets pain with love. Meets injustice with action. Meets every damn storm with the kind of force that turns tides.

Taking her portraits wasn’t just an honor—it was a front-row seat to witnessing power in its purest form.

And because of Vanessa, this won’t be the last time a moment like this is captured.

She is the heart behind the Rockcovery Portrait Series—a celebration of those who walk the path of recovery with strength, resilience, and undeniable beauty. Her courage sparked something bigger, a reminder that every warrior deserves to be seen, their story honored, and their light captured.

So here she stands.

Bold. Radiant. Unshakable.

A warrior in every sense of the word.

And the world is better for it.