Why I Photograph Dancers...

There has always been something about dancers that draws in photographers. Funny enough, I started photography after being photographed as a dancer myself for years. In that time I experienced being in front of the lenses of many photographers, some more talented and experienced, others maybe not so much... But what I walked away from in that experience is deeply wishing that I could merge the talented photographers with someone who had a real and deep understanding of ballet. When I say real and deep, I mean it on many levels. I mean it both technically and artistically. The physical and the emotional investment of a dancer. Someone who could take their art and their awareness and make something amazing. For me, I aim to bring these worlds together and to make that amazing artwork I dreamed of.

I think each dancer has their own unique take on dance. It looks, feels, and manifests differently for everyone. I believe my job is to capture that uniqueness in my photos. We could just go in front of a backdrop or pretty background and take a photo of nice lines, well executed by the dancer... easy! Or we could plan together and dream together and make a collaborative piece of artwork. If we took the time to come up with something that will live with you forever and capture this stage in your life, identifying parts of you that no one else can replicate, that my friend is art.


What I See When I Look at a Dancer

What I see when I look at a dancer is the years that have been invested. The level of commitment to their craft that most will not understand. I've been to the gym, and I have taken ballet. No contest. If you want to feel every part of your body, and all the muscles you didn't even know existed, then take a ballet class. The physicality of it alone is just unmatched. The discipline to show up every day and learn to love pain for the returns you will get is an incredible experience. The identity you must take on, the understanding that you are different, set apart from others — this is something that is earned. It deserves to be documented.

One thing that even dancers don't fully grasp: while they are in the dancing stage of life, they are moving through phases and moving quickly. Each stage and phase of that dance life is something beautiful. Even now, when I look back on my old videos and pictures, my natural reaction is to critique myself — but alongside that criticism is a respect for what I was experiencing that helped to shape the dancer I was becoming. Flashing back to that time is meaningful for me, even today, a decade after my last performance on a stage. Which is crazy to think about, by the way.

So for me, the work matters. It speaks to the passion behind our everyday project of being the best we can be and making art that leaves a legacy. When dancers see their work in my photographs and they feel like they are looking at art that they can share with the world, further reinforcing their confidence in their ongoing daily efforts, it gives me a similar sense of satisfaction that a finished performance always gave. I want you to always be able to look back at this stage of your dance life and remember how all the late rehearsals and sweaty classes helped to build you into the person you are becoming. ❤️


This Is Why I Started the Art in Motion Project

For the dancers wanting to see the beauty of this stage in their life, I want to capture more than just that pretty photo with the simple backdrop. I want to capture you completely in your element. A multi-faceted approach to capturing your uniqueness and your own brand of beauty in the world of ballet. From capturing you in class, through to your rehearsals, and then finally the planned works of art either in studio, on location or both — I want to get the whole picture in the form of an album. A book dedicated to you and your devotion to your craft.


If any of this resonated with you, I'd love for you to learn more.

👉 Learn more and apply here
I can't wait to meet you. 🩰
Black and white photo of a dancer gracefully balancing under a concrete bridge on sandy ground.