I live and work in New England, where the landscape is never static. Much of my photography is made along New Hampshire’s coastal stops, forest trail systems, marshes, and waterways — places that move through dramatic seasonal shifts. Those transitions are a constant source of fascination, and the photographs are meant to hold those experiences.

I’m a recreational hiker and kayaker, guided by principles of conservation, especially when I’m out photographing nature. I stay on trails, leave nothing behind, and take nothing with me except images. When I photograph animals, I keep my distance, allowing them to remain safe in their own spaces.

Photography gives me a way to relive these experiences long after I’ve left a place. Deep in the forest, kayaking through marshes and estuaries, or standing at the edge of a reservoir, I notice moments I want to return to later.

I started taking photographs as a child, around eight years old. My earliest images were simple — mostly of the sky, because I loved the blue then, and still do. I photographed my chickens. I photographed my little brother, my constant companion. One of my favorite early photographs is of him perched in a tree — an image that earned me a bit of trouble when my mother saw it. I still have that photograph decades later, because it holds both the image and the story that came with it.

That impulse hasn’t changed much. I love zooming in on details my eyes alone can’t fully see: blossoms, insects, mushrooms, frogs, salamanders, snakes, chipmunks — though not all creatures are willing collaborators. I’m especially drawn to the way light moves through the landscape: how it rests on flowers, catches on stone walls in the woods, or shifts constantly across water. I’m interested in contrasts wherever I find them.

This project is simply how I choose to share what I see. The photographs come from walking slowly, paying attention, and returning again and again to places that never look quite the same twice.