It’s Not Just a Party.
It’s Your Story.

The Moment After the Moment.

The photos you expect bring everyone together. The ones you don’t are the ones you keep.

In over a decade behind the camera, my idea of what makes a “good photo” has changed a lot.

When I first started taking photography seriously, I was studying engineering at the University of Alberta. And like a true engineer, I focused on the technical: ISO, shutter speed, aperture, composition, lighting quality. Those details were always top of mind. I was determined to get everything just right.

However, the more I chased technical perfection, the more I realized I was missing what was actually happening around me. The real moments. The ones that weren’t posed or lit perfectly—but meant something.

At first, it wasn’t obvious. But after photographing more events—and reviewing my images with fresh eyes—I began to understand what truly mattered. Clients would tell me which photos they loved, and I’d be caught off guard—because it was rarely the ones I expected.

Instead, they pointed to the ones where someone was laughing mid-sentence.
Or hugging without realizing anyone was watching.
Or looking at someone the way people only do when they forget they’re being seen.

Eventually, my surprise wore off. As a result, I began paying closer attention to what they were actually responding to. I realized that what draws people in isn’t technical perfection. It’s what the photo represents. The moment. The feeling. The story.

Over time, as my experience grew, so did my instinct. I started to notice how the presence of a camera can sometimes get in the way of the story. It can make people self-conscious—aware of being watched. So I learned how to work quietly. How to photograph without pulling people out of the moment.

I also learned how fleeting those real flashes of connection can be. And that realization changed what I look for in a room.
Rather than chasing the perfect lighting or setup, I’ve come to chase presence—the emotional truth of the moment, not just the appearance of one.

Of course, I’ll still get the big, expected moments—the ones everyone came for.
But what I’m really watching for is the moment after the moment.
The breath. The laugh. The truth that slips through when no one’s performing.

That’s not to say I’ve left the technical side behind. On the contrary, I care deeply about the craft. But I believe my job is to know those tools so instinctively that I don’t have to think about them. That way, I can be fully present—with the people, with the atmosphere, with the story that’s unfolding.

Ultimately, that’s what I aim to capture.
Not just what it looked like—but what it felt like.
The part you didn’t know anyone else noticed.

What Working Together Feels Like

When you hire me, you’re not just getting a photographer. You’re getting someone who understands what’s at stake.

I know how much time, energy, and care goes into planning an event — and how much can shift once it’s actually happening. My job is to move through that space with calm, to bring ease instead of tension, and to notice the things that matter while you’re fully in the moment.

Because when you’re really present, you’re not tracking every detail. But the details — a glance, a gesture, a shared laugh — become the parts of the story you’ll want to return to.

Over time, even the most extraordinary moments can slip into the blur of routine. The traditions, the voices, the little rituals that give life its texture — they deserve to be remembered with care.

I’m not here to capture everything. I’m here to make sure what matters most doesn’t go unnoticed.

The Portrait Booth: Where Legacy Lives

The Portrait Booth is where the energy shifts.
This is where we slow things down — and make sure you walk away with the best photograph you’ve ever had.

Solo shots. Family portraits. All the cousins piled together. Best friends. Siblings. You name it.

We’ll make it legendary — because these aren’t just party pictures. They’re anchors. The kind that keep you connected to the people who mean the most.