Focused on what's important
Life has taught me that identity is far less fixed than I once believed.
Over the years I have worn many hats — photographer, business owner, wife, mother, co-parent, advocate, and student of human connection.
Motherhood transformed me in ways I never expected. It challenged my understanding of who I was and who I wanted to become. Parenting a child with autism has taught me to slow down, listen differently, embrace individuality, and let go of expectations of what family "should" look like. It has taught me to notice the moments that are easy to miss — the quiet gestures, the unconventional expressions of love, the tiny milestones, and the beauty that exists when we stop trying to make people fit a mould.
In recent years, life has continued to reshape me. I have moved through a separation from my husband, I'm learning the art of co-parenting, navigated coming out later in life, and found myself in a beautiful relationship with a woman as we create a blended family together.
None of these experiences define me on their own.
But together they have deepened my understanding of people.
They have taught me that families come in many forms. That love can look different than we imagined. That identity evolves. That joy and grief often coexist. That growth is rarely linear. And that the most meaningful stories are usually found in the spaces between who we were and who we are becoming.
I bring all of that with me when I pick up my camera.
My life experiences have changed the way I photograph. They have taught me that families come in many forms, and that every person carries a story we cannot see from the outside.
When you step in front of my camera, I'm not looking for perfection. I'm looking for connection and what lies underneath. The way your child reaches for your hand, the way your partner looks at you when you're not paying attention, and the way your family loves each other exactly as you are right now.
Because the photographs we treasure most are rarely the perfect ones. They're the ones that remind us how it felt to be there.
Perhaps that's why I felt compelled to create The Matrescence Project. The more women I photographed, the more I heard stories of transformation — stories of losing themselves and finding themselves, of becoming mothers while simultaneously trying to hold onto the people they had been before.
When I discovered the concept of matrescence, it gave language to something I had been witnessing for years. Because matrescence isn't simply about having a baby. It's about identity. It's about becoming. And while motherhood may have been one of the most significant transformations of my life, it certainly wasn't the last.
I believe we are all continually evolving throughout our lives. My hope is that through photography, we can honour those chapters, preserve those stories, and create artwork that reminds us who we were in the moments that shaped us.
I welcome and celebrate families of all cultures, backgrounds, sexual orientations, and gender identities. My commitment is to provide a safe, nurturing, and respectful space for everyone who walks through my door.
