S.'s profile
I am a Baltimore-based photographer who uses 35mm film and digital photography to capture everyday moments. My work is inspired by artists such as Carrie Mae Weems, Ernest Withers, Roy DeCarava, and Pete Eckert. I use my artistic practice to navigate and manage my anxiety and as an exercise in gratitude.
After a handful of eye surgeries and one corneal transplant, photography is still a practice in gratitude for the places, people, and things around me. It is less about the precision of the images, but how elated I feel in the moments before a shot—finding a moment or seeing an interaction that causes me to stop in my tracks and attempt to frame it within my lens brings me a great deal of joy and I hope to share those instances with others. Understanding that even if my vision is to fail, I can hopefully still communicate the brevity of a moment, highlighting how photogenic even the smallest instances can be.
I was 17 when I took my first photography class, thinking it would be an easy elective, but I quickly fell in love with it. Researching different styles and photographers introduced me to the works of Carrie Mae Weems, Ernest Withers, and Roy DeCarava, whose ability to tell gripping stories through images deeply resonated with me. Their intimate captures of everyday moments stirred something in me that words often failed to express. Photography became a practice in clarity and attention to detail, allowing me to bridge the gaps in my vision—literally and metaphorically. By Christmas that following year (2014), I saved up and bartered with my mom to purchase my first “professional” camera. But just a few months later, what I thought was just bad eyesight was diagnosed as a degenerative eye disease that threatened to take my sight if left untreated.
In spring 2017, after undergoing surgery to slow the progression of my condition, I optimistically attempted a film photography class. However, the financial strain and emotional toll of consistently ruined film and photo paper became too much. The day I dropped the class, my professor encouraged me to stay for the day’s lessons, which featured a film about notable photographers. One artist, Pete Eckert, struck a chord–he was a blind photographer. His story sparked a fire within me, proving that art could transcend physical limitations. Though I still had to withdraw from the class, I left inspired. I thanked my professor for reigniting my belief that photography could remain a part of my life, no matter the challenges.
The day I got fitted for my scleral lens, which helped with restoring most of my vision, is one that I will never forget. I put them in and immediately cried as I stared at my shoes. I was wearing bright blue Nike sneakers with orange laces, but I could see the bits of red woven into the laces for the first time. The cries became sobs when my parents came into the room and I noticed the moles on my parents faces. After I was able to calm myself down and my parents and my doctor needed to talk about the next steps, I asked if I could sit outside just to look at the trees. It was fall so the maple tree in front of the ophthalmologist's office held hues of reds, oranges, and yellows that I had never seen. I was in shock and awe. It was all of the little things I have missed over the years that meant the world to me.
My work is driven by my longing to preserve memories on film. The angles of my photographic work match my eye’s vantage point or my direct positioning when struck by the same feeling I had in my doctor's office seeing my shoelaces for the first time. I prefer stills and portraits to stage scenes to capture what I hope is a level of authenticity and vulnerability that alludes me in verbal and written communication.
