There wasn’t one singular moment when photography became more than just a hobby for me, it was a series of small, significant moments that slowly stitched themselves together into something undeniable.

One of the earliest was while walking through a grocery store. I remember noticing how the bottles on the shelf looked different, some darker, some lighter, and asking my dad why. He explained it was because of the way the light hit them. One in shadow, one in the sun. That quiet play of light and shadow stuck with me. It still does.

Years later, while working in the food industry, my sister gifted me a photography book for my birthday. I looked at the images, the textures, the light, and I just knew: this is what I want to do.

My approach is rooted in curiosity and reverence for light, its energy, its texture, its vibration. At university, I studied and shot with medium and large format film, which sharpened my eye for composition. I became fascinated with how shapes relate to each other, the lines and the negative space. It’s all pattern recognition in a way.

Living in Cape Town has only deepened this connection. It’s the most visually generous place I know. I think of myself as an observer. There’s a scene in The Secret Life of Walter Mitty where he finally spots the elusive snow leopard he’s been tracking and just… watches. Doesn’t even take the shot. That quiet reverence speaks to me. Sometimes, the best moments are the ones you simply witness.

What drives me, ultimately, is the creative process itself. Taking a loose idea and shaping it into something that lives and breathes. The energy of a good team, the moment we land the perfect shot, it’s electric. It’s a dance. And then seeing it out in the world, on a billboard, in a magazine, blown up and rolling past on a truck. From the unseen to the seen.

With each project, I aim to evoke a sense of awe. I want my images to feel striking, to emerge from the shadows, to stop you in your tracks, if even for a second.