Light is not just what we photograph.
It is how we live. Tell me your story. I know how to find its light.
At nineteen, I trained as a fine art sculptor. I loved the idea of it more than I could ever make myself show up for it. The studio was there, and some days I simply couldn't get myself through the door. Not once a week. Sometimes not once a month.
At thirty-four, I picked up a camera with purposeful intention, and I have barely put it down since. Sixteen years, and counting.
That's the difference between wanting to make art and being an artist: showing up. Every day, every rented room, every new country - the camera was in my hand before the boxes were unpacked.
Paris, Kuala Lumpur, Dubai, the Seychelles, New Zealand, and now the soft grey-green fields of Oxfordshire. Six countries, twenty years, and a body of work built one ordinary, unglamorous act of showing up at a time. But the years gave me more than a practice. They gave me a family, a string of homes and homes-from-home, children who grew up watching me work, and a marriage to the idea that this - being a working artist - was worth the discomfort of building it in public, imperfectly, again and again.
I write poetry with life in front of me. I photograph people, families, makers, artists and brands, and I thread connection between me and the people I'm photographing, pulling from nostalgia and memory, and paying attention to what we'll want to feel and remember about right now, once it's become the past.
I specialise in what it feels like to live, love and work as a woman, in our world, today. Championing modern women’s stories as a peer and poet first, and a service provider second. My work is crafted to infuse your confidence with the strength of who you are, and what you do.
My work has been recognised by Nikon Global, Nikon New Zealand and Panasonic Lumix. For the Love of the Photograph, my first book, in 2019; A Year in Awakino, 2026, a #1 bestseller on the NZ Non-fiction charts. A Year of Light as Language is the current path. Recent work has ranged from family kitchens to photographing HRH The Princess Royal at The Old Department Store - a charity built on the belief that everyone deserves a meal, and no one should eat alone.
We are ambient beings.
The Power of Personal Work
Creative muscle memory is built through return.
I have always anchored on a subject and stayed with it — my children in their early years, our first year in New Zealand, a series of self-portraits, three years of diptychs. Right now it is Great Haseley Windmill.
I return to it through every season, every weather, every quality of light. Not to document a structure — but to practice the art of seeing the same thing differently. To understand what constancy teaches. To discover what only time and attention can reveal.
This is what personal work does. It keeps the channel open.
Every photographer needs a windmill. Something to return to. Something that asks more of you each time.
If you have one already, or want to find one — I'd love to talk.
Let's have a conversation.
