Notes from summer

This summer, I kept my Leica close—whether tucked in my glovebox, thrown in my purse, or hanging around my neck—more than I have any other summer. I found myself staying home in the Bozeman area more than I can remember, surrounded by the familiar landscapes and rhythms of my surroundings. Between May and August, I photographed seven weddings, captured multiple kitchens, documented businesses, and several veggie farms.

Often, I think I need novelty to keep my creative spark, but this summer’s commitment to my own turf provided a valuable opportunity to hone my ability to notice the subtleties of daily life. I learned to pay close attention to the light, the fleeting moments, and the nuanced beauty right in front of me.

Staying inspired and eager to pick up my camera is essential for me. Funny enough, it was ensuring I never went too long without it that kept my engagement consistent. This approach allowed me to capture the unexpected joys of summer: the long, stretched-out rays of the sun casting golden hues over the valley as I headed to a trailhead; the vibrant colors of ripe fruits and blooming vines; the laughter and warmth of tailgate barbecues and backyard dinners with friends. By bringing my camera along to activities that filled my heart with joy, I found myself more attuned to the little details of my own life. This attentiveness helped me maintain a sense of balance and creativity.

Additionally, I took the time to comb through over ten years of my work to refresh my website. This process was enlightening, revealing how many connections I’ve made over the years. How sometimes I start documenting out of interest and eventually that interest ends me up in a paying job. My photographic journey in Montana—following the path of carrots from farm to kitchen and ultimately to the table—has deeply rooted me in the local food community that I cherish.

Reflecting on my old photos, whether from my own life or those of my clients, I’m gifted with the insight of hindsight. I see how much has changed over the years, yet I also recognize the constants that remain. Our experiences, jobs, and relationships shape us, but the core of who we are holds steady through time. This reflected duality is one of my favorite aspects of looking back at photographs: they capture moments that resonate with the essence of life.

I’m grateful for the pauses that photography allows—the intentional act of stopping to document a moment. While it’s not always convenient to slow down, schedule or just pull the car over, it is in looking back that the gratitude grows. In paying attention that my creative inspiration deepens.