I had the incredible opportunity to be an artist-in-residence at The Sable Project in Vermont. To be honest, I arrived riddled with nerves and uncertainty—unsure of how I’d fit in among a group of such talented and inspiring artists. But the moment I arrived, something shifted. I felt an immediate connection with my cohort, a quiet sense of belonging that surprised and comforted me.
I’m deeply grateful to each person I met there—for the ways they challenged me, expanded my perspective, and encouraged me to step outside of my comfort zone.
Photography, for me, has always been a solitary practice. From the first spark of an idea to the final edits, I tend to move through the process alone. But this experience taught me the value of collaboration, of sharing space and creative energy with others. It gave me the courage to pursue images I might’ve otherwise hesitated to make—and reminded me that vulnerability can be a powerful tool in both art and life.
These photographs are quite different from my usual work.
Midway through my residency, we took part in a group exercise called Art and Heart. I didn’t expect to be so vulnerable—but as my fellow artists began to share the deeply personal stories behind their work, I felt moved to do the same. I opened up about my ongoing journey with self-love, something I rarely talk about, let alone express through my art.
Until that day, I hadn’t taken a single photograph of myself. I’ve often left myself out of the frame—perhaps intentionally—because of a complicated, love-hate relationship with my body and the way I see myself. But something shifted during that conversation.
This small collection of photographs came from that moment. Some reveal the physical scars I carry from emergency medical procedures; others expose the more invisible insecurities I’ve held onto for years. Creating these images felt like a step toward softness, toward acceptance.
