15 years in the most
interesting rooms in New York
I don’t remember everything about my first trip to Europe. But I remember a woman looking at my photos when I got back and telling me they were something. That was the first sign.
The second was in Mali.
I was studying abroad in West Africa when I was given extraordinarily rare access to photograph djinn trance ceremonies. I lived with the priestess for a month. She spoke no French. I spoke no Bambara. At the end of that month, she told me I would become a photographer and make my living this way.
I believed her.
After graduation I moved to Johannesburg with a Watson scholar I’d met on the program — seven of the nine of us, it turned out, were queer — and big ideas about building something meaningful with zero business experience. A year later I came back to New York, started photographing nightlife and music, and never stopped.
That was 15 years ago.
I see what others don’t. People being more human than they planned to be — that’s not a technique. It’s how I’ve always moved through the world.
Since then I’ve been in the photo pit at Madison Square Garden, in UN meetings on the future of AI, at Brooklyn warehouse parties with aerialists swinging off the rafters, at speakeasies and galas and finance summits. I was there when a 90-year-old philanthropist launched her book at the Met and people wept just to hold her hand.
For corporate clients
Images that capture the actual energy in the room — not just your brand. The ones that make your team feel seen and make everyone else wish they’d been there.
Fast turnaround. Coverage that works from LinkedIn to your next pitch deck.
For couples
No shot list that runs your day. No gendered posing. I’ve been documenting queer love since 2011 — before marriage equality.
Galleries in 4 weeks, not the industry standard 8–12.
The people in that room will rarely, if ever, all be together again. That’s what I’m actually documenting.