I’ve been doing this for over 15 years now, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the best work happens the moment you stop trying to impress anyone. I didn’t start with connections, money, or some polished five-year plan. I left my hometown with a camera, a bag, and a stubborn belief that I’d figure it out when I got there. When I landed in New York City, I wasn’t chasing fame, I was chasing feeling. The city either eats you alive or teaches you how to see. It taught me both.

My first real industry exposure wasn’t glamorous. I interned for a textile sourcing company connected to Oscar de la Renta, surrounded by fabrics that cost more than my rent and people who could talk about weave structure like poetry. That’s where I learned that fashion isn’t surface, it’s architecture. Texture, weight, movement, silence. Around the same time, I was assisting a fashion photographer, carrying gear, watching light get sculpted, listening more than speaking. Assisting humbles you. It strips ego fast. You realize nobody cares about your “vision” until you prove you can actually execute one.

For a while I was just another quiet observer with a camera, shooting constantly, refining, failing, shooting again. Then came my break with Paper Magazine. At first it was small digital editorials, quick shoots, tight turnarounds, no room for overthinking. But those early features gave me something priceless: momentum. People started recognizing the work, not me, which is exactly how it should be. One shoot led to another, then another, and suddenly I wasn’t assisting anymore. I was being asked what I wanted to create.

From there, things unfolded the way they do when you’ve been grinding long enough for luck to finally find you. My images started appearing in publications like Vogue, Harper's Bazaar, and W Magazine. I worked with houses like Chanel, Gucci, and Tom Ford. Those names look impressive on paper, and I’m proud of them, but the truth is, the real reward was always the process. The quiet second before the shutter clicks. The shift in a model’s posture when they stop posing and start existing. The split second where light, instinct, and honesty line up without asking permission.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped worrying about what the industry expected my work to look like. That’s when it actually became mine. I realized the thing that always set my images apart wasn’t perfection, it was resistance. I’ve always had a rebellious streak, and instead of fighting it, I started channeling it into my work. I lean into contrast, tension, attitude. I’m drawn to subjects with presence, with edge, with something a little unpolished that can’t be manufactured. I don’t chase pretty. I chase real. That shift changed everything, because rebellion, when focused, becomes style, and style, when it’s honest, becomes signature.

I think living in New York burned away whatever fear I started with. The city doesn’t reward hesitation. It rewards conviction. You either commit to your eye or you get swallowed by everyone else’s. After years of chasing approval, I realized something simple: the strongest images come from not caring whether anyone approves at all. That quiet, slightly reckless confidence, that’s the real turning point for any artist.

I’m still chasing that feeling now. Still experimenting. Still collaborating with people who want to make something unforgettable instead of something safe. I don’t shoot to follow trends, and I don’t create to satisfy algorithms. I create because I have to. Because sometimes an image says what language can’t. And because even after all these years, that moment when everything aligns and the shutter clicks still feels like the first time I picked up a camera and realized I might never put it down.

Selected Clients & Collaborations

Nike
Footlocker
Chanel
Casablanca Paris
Gas Bijoux
PacSun
Adidas
Levi’s
Urban Outfitters
Reebok
ASOS
H&M
Nordstrom
Sephora
Jacquemus
and others

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