I have always had a fear of forgetting.
When I was young, I wrote everything down, documenting my existence in stacks of spiral-bound notebooks. It never seemed like enough.
I was 14 years old when I found my dad's old 35mm Minolta buried in the buffet drawer in the dining room of my childhood home. From that moment on, I spent my time teaching myself how to use it, and my hard-earned pay on developing countless rolls of film. I had stumbled upon something magical; I had found a new way to remember.
Fast-forward to college: I was an english major who spent more time in the darkroom than on essays and thesis papers, and finally decided to make a change. As a fine arts major, I discovered a side of myself that I never knew existed. I fell in love with paint, and even more with portraiture. I learned to use new equipment and to push boundaries. I learned to recognize the absolute beauty of the human form.
Despite this, I continued to struggle with my own self-image. Like so many other women, I have spent the bulk of my life tearing myself down -- I just need to lose 20 pounds; I wish I had better boobs; my arms look so big in this tank top -- and those are among the nicer things I thought to myself. I saw beauty in every body but my own, I spent countless hours comparing myself to other women, and it was exhausting.
And then I did a project. Not technically boudoir, but I found some brave peers to pose nude for a photography assignment, and it changed the way I looked at portraiture. They came into the studio timid and reserved, unsure of what to do. They left the studio boisterous and emboldened
Ultimately, I have grown to be nothing more than an older, more experienced version of that happy, bright-eyed, awe-struck teenager. The biggest difference, I think, is that I am finally ant to help others remember. I want to capture your moments in their truest form, and leave you with memories that will last a lifetime-- and then some.