My Unexpected Love Affair with Photography
August 19th is World Photography Day, and I couldn’t think of a better time to share my unexpected love story with photography. It’s a medium I never saw coming. A medium that started as a side escape and turned into a body of work that changed the way I see art, storytelling, and myself.
For most of my twenties, I introduced myself as a filmmaker. That identity fit, but it also carried weight. Films are as beautiful and they are maddening. They take months, even years, to bring to life. Scripts, casting, scouting, contracts, crews, post-production, distribution, marketing. Somewhere along the way, I decided I didn’t want my creativity to only exist inside that process. So I shifted. Now I call myself a storyteller. a title feels like breathing room.
Photography wasn’t supposed to be part of that. I stumbled into it on a whim, honestly a frustrated one. I had the itch to create without the patience for the marathon of filmmaking. So I pulled out my iPhone, started snapping, and something cracked open. Photography became my “fuck it” medium. The art form I reached for when I wanted to make something without permission slips or production schedules.
I’ve only ever shot on an iPhone, and I don’t question whether that makes me a “real” photographer. To me, a photo doesn’t need expensive equipment any more than a film needs a million-dollar budget to matter. What matters is if the image makes you stop, stare, gasp, or get lost in its details.
My favorite styles are wildlife and street photography. Both are unpredictable, and that is exactly why I love them.
As a writer and director, everything I created used to be rehearsed, scripted, and edited. With film, you construct reality. With photography, you surrender to it. All you have is yourself, the camera, and a fleeting moment that will never happen again. That tension, between control and chaos, is what hooked me.
It also inspired my first photography series, which I called Unscripted.
The Unscripted Series
I travel a lot, usually around my birthday, and I’m always on the hunt for excursions, especially ones that involve wildlife. Photography slid naturally into that rhythm. No pressure. Just me, a city, or a sanctuary, and whatever crossed my path.
Volume 1: Mirrors
I started collecting moments where people and animals reflected one another. Head Turns from both pedestrians and a cheetah. A fierce walk paired with what looked like a roar, though it was just a yawn. Perpendicular wolves and two women standing at exact angles to each other. A man walking alone in a street and a deer walking alone in a forrest. My favorite part of this process is that it took two full years to capture these photos, and only when I stepped back did the patterns begin to reveal themselves.
Volume 2: Shapes
I didn’t know what Volume 2 would be until one winter afternoon on a bus. A puppy peeked out of a backpack, and the curve of the bus seat framed its face perfectly. That was the spark. This time, the series played with shapes, with subjects centered or engulfed inside frames created by their surroundings.
Volume 3: In Progress
Right now I’m working on the final volume. I know it will involve both street photography and wildlife, but the theme hasn’t revealed itself yet. I’m learning to trust that it will arrive when it’s supposed to.
Somewhere between these volumes, the series picked up recognition, including awards for Best Street Photography and Best International Wildlife Photo. Those moments made me proud, but honestly, the real win has been discovering a side of myself I didn’t know existed.
What Photography Taught Me
Photography sharpened my instincts. In a crowded city, you only have a split second to capture something before it’s gone. There are no retakes and no tweaks. Just a choice: snap or miss it. That urgency rewired me. It taught me to act on impulse, to trust my gut, and to carry that same energy into my writing and directing.
It also made me pay attention to beauty in the everyday. I can’t count the times I’ve looked back at a photo I took in passing and felt my chest tighten with awe. No planning. No editing. Just the honesty of a moment that could have slipped away unnoticed.
That is what photography gave me: a reminder that art doesn’t always have to be built. Sometimes it just has to be caught.
I learned that you have to surrender to your art. As a filmmaker, so much of what we are taught is essentially control. How to control a camera, a set, a cast, a crew, lighting, even distribution deals. The medium itself often feels like bending everything to your creative will.
Street photography and wildlife photography don’t give me that option. I can’t negotiate with a cheetah when he and his handler are standing in front of me. I can’t ask a deer to pose. I can’t walk up to a stranger and ask them to tilt their head a little more so I can frame their silhouette better. Negotiation isn’t part of the process. All you can do is be present, pay attention, and catch the moment before it disappears.
Wrapping this up
Photography surprised me. It started as a release, a quick way to scratch the itch to create, and became one of the most meaningful parts of my artistic life. What began as a whim has turned into a practice that sharpens my instincts, opens my eyes, and reminds me to surrender to the beauty I can’t script.
World Photography Day feels like the perfect moment to honor that lesson. For me, photography is proof that art doesn’t always have to be controlled, polished, or meticulously planned. Sometimes it just asks you to be present. To notice. To catch what is right in front of you before it’s gone.
That is the gift I’ll keep carrying in my photos, in my films, and in the stories I have yet to tell.