Why I Take Photos: More Than Just Pictures

I’ve always been drawn to the arts—music, theatre, design, photography—anything that lets me create and tell stories. Creativity has been at the heart of everything I do, shaping the way I see the world.

So in 2012, when I launched my design agency in Wellington, NZ, I was in my element. It gave me space to experiment, refine my skills, and explore new ways of telling visual stories.

Around the same time, I met a wildly talented photographer who changed the way I saw photography. She didn’t just introduce me to the same camera system I still use today—she taught me how to see. How to be present. How to notice the small, fleeting moments most people overlook.

That conversation stayed with me. Photography started creeping into my work, slowly at first. But it wasn’t until my own life took a turn that I understood its true value.

A Shift in Focus

In 2019, my partner and I moved to Melbourne. A few months later, the world shut down. Like so many others, we found ourselves questioning everything—our careers, our priorities, what really mattered.

And in the middle of all that uncertainty, we decided to grow our family.

Our daughter was born while hospitals were still overflowing. It was a terrifying time, but she was our joy. The world outside felt heavy, but inside our little bubble, life was just beginning.

The hardest part? Our family in New Zealand couldn’t meet her. For the first 18 months of her life, she didn’t know her cousins, aunts, uncles, or grandparents.

That’s when photography became more than just a creative outlet. It became our bridge.

Month by month, I documented her life—not just the milestones, but the tiny, ordinary moments that make up a childhood. The scrunch of her nose, her fascination with daisies, the beautiful chaos of finger painting.

Photos became our way of holding onto time. Of making sure our families didn’t miss out. Of capturing the small details that, without images, might have faded away.

Seeing the Bigger Picture

Two years later, our son was born. And now, looking back, I realize how much we forget.

The details fade faster than we expect. But photos—real, emotion-filled photos—keep them alive.

Today, my daughter is three, and she loves looking through our family albums, pointing at herself as a baby, remembering things she wouldn’t otherwise recall.

And that’s when it truly hit me.

These aren’t just photos.

They’re a way to relive a life well-lived. To freeze time, even for a moment, so that years from now, you can step back into the simple joys of childhood—the messy breakfast table, the backyard adventures, the excitement of conquering the tallest slide at the playground.

That’s why I do this. Because life moves fast, and the details slip away quicker than we realize. But a single photograph has the power to bring it all rushing back—not just how it looked, but how it felt.

And that’s what I want for you, too. A way to hold onto the moments that matter—the ones that happen in your home, on your favorite walks, during big adventures and quiet afternoons alike. Not just for today, but for all the years to come.