I picked up a camera the way most people do — to remember a place. The hills behind home, the long evenings on the west coast, the quiet kind of weather that doesn't make it into postcards. I was photographing the silence long before I was photographing anyone in it.
Then a friend asked me to shoot her wedding. I said yes the way you say yes when you don't quite know what you're agreeing to. I remember thinking, halfway through the day, that this was the same thing — the same listening, the same waiting for the moment when the air changed. Just with people in it.
That was a few years ago now. Since then I've been lucky enough to photograph weddings across Ireland and a few abroad, plus a quieter parallel practice of portraits and love stories — maternity sessions, engagements, the in-between chapters that don't always get a photographer but probably should.
I'm in this for the long haul. I want to be the photographer your kids find a hard drive of in twenty years and say, "this is exactly what it felt like."
