My Photography Philosophy & Creative Evolution

Where it All Began

I was around 14 when I first started taking photos of my friends with a small point-and-shoot camera. It wasn’t even mine, but I remember feeling completely fascinated by what I could capture. I’d play with strange angles, shake the camera to create light trails, and experiment without knowing what I was doing, just following my curiosity.

Back then, I didn’t think of photography as anything serious, drawing was actually my main passion. But something about freezing a moment no one else noticed felt kind of special. I loved colors, textures, and the way light could turn an ordinary scene into something really cool.

When I turned sixteen, I finally got my first real reflex camera. I remember how exciting it felt to hold something that could translate my imagination into real images. I started photographing anything that caught my attention, my friends, small details, the play of light on walls, and the different colors in the sky.

At home, I’d often photograph my mom and sister. My mom was so young and beautiful, though she didn’t always see herself that way. Through my camera, I wanted to show her what I saw (her strength, softness, and beauty). My sister was a dancer, and I loved capturing her movements, her expressions, the way she lost herself in music. Looking back, I think that was my first glimpse of what photography could do: tell stories about people I love and make them see themselves again.

Finding My Voice

When I was in University, my photos were very experimental (artsy, moody, and abstract).
I went to art school, where everything had to be deep and conceptual to be considered “real art.” I felt completely lost. I wanted to be an artist, not just a photographer, but I didn’t yet know who I was or what I wanted to say.

For a long time, I felt too small, unseen, and afraid to take up space. But the journey taught me something powerful (finding your voice takes time, patience, and self-acceptance).
Slowly, I stopped trying to impress and started trying to connect.

The people I photograph have become my greatest teachers. Every session reminds me of something about self-love, trust, or courage. Through them, I’ve learned to see beauty in imperfection and strength in vulnerability. I’ll forever be grateful for the souls who step in front of my camera and let me witness who they truly are.

Of course, my mistakes have shaped me as much as my successes. They’ve taught me when to let go, when to say no, and when to simply trust myself. Each failure has pushed me to grow, to refine my vision, and to remember that art doesn’t come from perfection, it comes from presence.

Letting Go of Perfection

There was a time when I was so focused on the technical side (lighting, settings, composition) that I forgot to simply feel. I was missing the moments that make photos meaningful.

In the past two years, something shifted. I learned to breathe, to be present, to let my clients move and express themselves freely. I guide them gently but allow them to just be. That’s when the magic happens, when laughter, movement, or quiet stillness tell the story better than any pose ever could.

What I Hope People Feel

I hope that when people look at my photos, they remember what love feels like. That they see happiness, nostalgia, and truth in the way someone looks at them. I hope they understand that perfection doesn’t exist, only realness does.

I want my work to remind people that natural light, human connection, and unguarded emotion are all there really is.

My Heart Behind the Lens

If my photography could speak, I think it would say: “I see you. As you are.”

I want my clients to feel safe, empowered, and free to be themselves (to feel the kindness and calm I bring into each session). My greatest joy is watching someone soften in front of my lens, realizing they don’t have to perform, they just have to be.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. There were times I didn’t believe I’d make it this far, that my fears and insecurities would always be louder than my dreams. But now, I choose to leap even when I’m scared. I’ve learned to surprise myself, again and again.

What keeps me inspired are the people I meet, their love stories, kind words, gratitude, and the trust they place in me to capture their most special moments. I’ll never stop being thankful for that.

Closing Thoughts

My photography has become more than a creative outlet, it’s a way of connecting, healing, and honoring life as it is. Every person I photograph reminds me why I started: to celebrate the real, the raw, and the beautifully imperfect.

Thank you for being here, for letting me keep creating, feeling, and telling stories that remind us how beautifully human we are.

With love,
Emme