I was a daddy's girl. There was adventure and a untamed toughness about him. He owned a construction company for nearly 60 years and he often tore down and remodeled old buildings. In the summer, when he went to a job site, he'd let me tag along, too. I was about 14 when I got my first camera; I often studied a National Geographic magazine for hours, imagining where I could go and what I could see, and what could come home with me on a reel in a metal box. But, in the meantime, I had to stick close to home, and explore what I could. Daddy let me explore those old places that appeared to have lost all life, but I saw them much differently. I saw stories. I got my hands dirty, and I got to see what torn apart looks like, and what well again looks like, when it's painted up real nice and when it isn't. I saw stories in both, and depending on how you're looking at it, there's heartache in one, and a whole lot of happiness in the other. It's amazing how not so human things can suddenly seem very human.
As I got older, I traveled and researched and documented wherever I went, I guess you could say I'm a little National Geographic all my own. I still go around looking for old, worn down things to shoot, and I feel that incredible sense of curiosity and wonder again. Sometimes I go looking for stories, and sometimes stories find me. My business card says "Adventure Photographer" and I should probably add "Story Teller".
I was born in northern Oklahoma and gypsied around the country until I settled down in OKC almost two years ago. I have two daughters, two cats, one dog, and a camera.