This theme was photographed in downtown Willmar, Minnesota , weaving through colorful train trailers, alleys, industrial buildings, and the quiet stillness of the streets that felt perfect for an apocalyptic storyline. From the very beginning, I knew I wanted this theme to challenge me. I wanted to explore new locations I’d never shot at beore, push myself visually, and create an apocalyptic storyline. This theme wasn’t just about the costume or the makeup but about building a full environment that made you feel the story I want to share in an editorial artistic way. We started in full sun, tucked between random train trailers that bounced unexpected colors across the model’s skin. Normally I would move someone away from color casts like that, but something about the scene felt right. So I fully embraced the editing challenge. From there, we made our way into downtown Willmar, stopping at buildings I’ve always dreamed of shooting at. The architecture, the textures, the sense of abandonment… it all felt like stepping into another world. Our model wore a yellow hazmat suit, we could’ve chosen white, but the yellow was absolutely the right call. It popped against every backdrop, making her look like a living warning sign you can’t ignore. The storyline behind the photos centers around a rapidly spreading infection: a world completely abandoned, streets silent, no one coming to save you. Whatever this thing is, it changes everything it touches. An editorial apocalypse, exactly the vibe I wanted. Makeup for this theme was created by Jessi B Artistry . Stay tuned for Theme #3. It's more beautiful than anything.

Willmar, Minnesota Creative Halloween Photography Series Every year, I challenge myself to create something original, but this project took things to an entirely new level. I brought 31 unique Halloween themes to life, shot well over 10,000 photos , collaborated with one incredible makeup artist , and worked with 25 amazing models , all while crafting countless props, building custom setups, and pouring nearly almost two years of planning into this series alone. It required an intense amount of time, energy, money, and stress, but it also became one of the greatest opportunities for me to grow as an artist. Each concept pushed me out of my comfort zone. I experimented, built DIY creations, tried new ideas, made mistakes, and kept going with confidence because I believe deeply in what I do. With every session, I felt more inspired and more connected to my work. Whether it’s a bold creative project like this or a wedding day, a piece of me, and my brand, lives in every single photograph. I hope you enjoy looking through my photos for my 31 Days of Halloween Series. This theme was photographed right inside my apartment in Willmar, Minnesota, this session officially launched Day One of my 31 Days of Halloween . The Concept? A Visual That Evokes Discomfort The idea behind this Halloween look was simple, yet daring: Could we create something that was both uncomfortable and intriguing at the same time? I was inspired for years by memorable images of ripped pantyhose stretched over people's faces, thick globs of lipstick, and chaotic splashes of colorful makeup. For Day One of my series, I set out to create my own interpretation. Something intentionally unsettling, visually striking, and impossible to forget. The Model’s Arrival. They Had Zero Clue About What Was Coming... Our model arrived wearing a simple nude bodysuit, having absolutely no idea what theme was waiting for them. This session was designed as a “surprise concept,” and they were the only person brave enough to trust me fully with this idea. Thanks to Jessi B Artistry , the makeup came together flawlessly. Messy yet intentional, chaotic yet artistic. Unsettling, Bold, and Beautiful What unfolded in my Willmar apartment was everything I hoped for. A look that was visually appealing, deeply expressive, and just uncomfortable enough to make you sit with your feelings for a moment. This style was heavily inspired by the works from Kabuki Makeup & Hair School , whose images first sparked this entire idea. Their boldness gave me permission to push my own creative limits. This photoshoot in Willmar, Minnesota, marks only the beginning of my 31 Days of Halloween series. My hope with each concept is to inspire viewers to embrace art that challenges, disturbs, excites, and moves them. Each theme will unveil a new emotion, a new character, and a new world to explore. Stay tuned for Theme #2...because this is just the start.

This powerful and emotional Skin Positivity Normalizing Acne session took place in Willmar, Minnesota, at the historic MinnWest Technology Campus. It was part of my ongoing skin series—a raw and vulnerable project centered around acne awareness and self-acceptance. Set indoors of MinnWest, this session showcased a variety of models, each sharing their own unique skin story. The one I’m sharing today is from Teralyn, and it was one of the most impactful sessions of the entire project. The tone of this session was raw, emotional, and empowering. As someone who has personally struggled with severe acne, I know what it feels like to have your skin define your self-worth. This is why I created this skin series — to amplify stories from real people across the Kandiyohi County and Willmar, MN area, and to help others feel seen, valued, and confident in their own skin. In this indoor session at MinnWest Technology Campus in Willmar, I collaborated with a talented makeup artist and friend Jess Bonnema (Jessi B Artistry) to photograph a transformation — not just in appearance, but in mindset.  With our model Teralyn, we began with the makeup transformation into full glam. Documenting each stage. Then gentle, confident posing that highlighted her smile, posture, confidence, and strength. Then transitioned into the removal of make up. This process was slow and intentional.  Half-covered expressions. Makeup wipes full of makeup residue. Then a moment alone with a mirror. Her posture and energy shifted — visually capturing how acne can emotionally weigh someone down. At the end of the session, we returned to bare skin. The words “retouch” and "beautiful" were stickers that we directly put on her face, paired with bold posing that called out unrealistic beauty standards perpetuated by society and social media. We had her hold the makeup wipes, fake eyelashes in hand — and focused on tight, detailed shots that brought out every pore and every emotion. This project allowed for vulnerability in a safe space— something that was incredibly important for the tone of this series. It wasn’t just about photos; it was about storytelling. Here is Teralyn’s skin story… In seventh grade, I had some acne on my face that wouldn’t seem to go away, so I went to see a dermatologist. I tried lots of different prescriptions, but nothing seemed to work. After several months of no results, my dermatologist took a biopsy on my cheek and sent it to a lab. The results came back to show that it wasn’t acne, but angiofibromas—benign tumors made up of blood vessels and connective tissue. My dermatologist let me know that angiofibromas were permanent, and that they would be on my face for the rest of my life. Further testing revealed that I had a genetic disorder called tuberous sclerosis. This disorder causes small tumors to form all over my body—specifically my kidneys, brain, and face. I was upset that I couldn’t do anything to get rid of my blemishes. In eighth grade, a girl in my Spanish class asked me about my acne. I told her it wasn’t acne and that it wasn’t going anywhere, to which she responded, “You should try foundation—it will cover it up.” Later that same night, I begged my mom to help me pick out foundation from the drugstore. I began wearing it to conceal my imperfections, and I still wear it every day. In early high school, I started to develop intense acne. The dermatologist gave me a few topical prescriptions to try, but nothing was strong enough. He eventually put me on a pill called doxycycline hyclate, which I still take every day. Doxycycline hyclate is known for having side effects if a dose is missed. It can cause depressing and suicidal thoughts, which messes with my already severe depression—but I still take it. I’m so concerned about the acne on my face that I put myself in danger if I accidentally miss a dose or two. To this day, I still haven’t really accepted my acne, and I still choose to conceal it. Every morning when I wake up and walk past my mirror, I can see how awful my acne looks. I immediately can’t wait to cover it up with concealer and foundation. Even if I’m not going anywhere, I still like to put on makeup so I don’t have to look at it myself. I feel much more confident when I know it is hidden. On the days I’m really struggling, it’s so important for me to remind myself that I’m not the only person who has a lot of acne, and that in the grand scheme of things, it is pretty insignificant. And that’s my advice to those who are also struggling to accept their skin as well. This skin series session in Willmar, Minnesota was a reminder that vulnerability is strength. At the MinnWest Technology Campus, we created space to be raw and unfiltered, to show the emotional journey of living with acne, and to start conversations about what beauty really means. If you're interested in being a part of this series that honors your story and empowers you to own your confidence — no matter your skin — reach out. These are the stories I love to share.

This session took place in a secluded area near Lake Calhoun in the New London-Spicer, Minnesota area. The wide-open field gave us the privacy we needed to dive into a very raw and emotional concept centered around mental health. This session is part of an ongoing photo series on mental health awareness. In this project, I meet with each person individually to listen to their story, ask questions, and brainstorm a way to visually bring their story to life. Each person chooses three images that they feel drawn to—whether it’s because the photo makes them uncomfortable or because it represents something deeply personal. Those images become our inspiration for how we shape their session—from clothing, props, to mood, and emotion. This session in particular was deeply moving. The model shared that she had lost her father to suicide at a young age. The loss has stayed with her in the form of PTSD. She brought a collection of memories—photos and personal belongings from when her father served—to incorporate into the shoot. The location in rural New London-Spicer allowed us to fully lean into a vulnerable and powerful narrative. She wore a bra and underwear set to symbolize the rawness of body image struggles, and we decorated her body with fresh flowers, then covered them with Band-Aids—representing self-harm, and how damaging self-talk leaves hidden wounds. A tape measure and scale were used as symbols of how we often tie our worth to our body size, believing we must look a certain way to feel loved or accepted. We then taped over her mouth with the word “Silence”  written on it, which she later tore off in the photos—a visual metaphor for reclaiming her voice. A hand-painted banner reading “Fragile”  repeated in a loop,  echoing the quiet strength behind her vulnerability. Here is Amery’s story: I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, severe anxiety, and PTSD when I was sixteen, after I attempted to take my own life. Before that, I had quietly struggled with self-harm, always hiding it in places no one could see. Since then, I’ve turned to tattoos as a coping mechanism. It’s a pain I can control. Still, my self-esteem and body image have been constant battles. I can’t remember a time when negative, self-shaming thoughts weren’t running through my head. Even on the days I feel good about myself, it doesn’t last—depression always finds a way to interrupt. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had happy moments. But depression is more than sadness. It’s waking up tired despite sleeping for hours. It’s canceling plans just to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling. It’s losing joy in the things you used to love. It’s overeating—or not eating at all. It’s struggling to make even the simplest decisions. Anxiety isn’t just panic attacks—it’s people-pleasing, overthinking every conversation, reading too much into a text, being unable to say no. It’s apologizing when no apology is needed. And PTSD is more than being triggered by loud noises. It’s flashbacks, nightmares, poor memory, and self-destructive behaviors. It’s feeling fragile, broken, and overwhelmed by memories you wish you could forget. Most people don’t understand what mental illness truly looks like. They don’t see the weight we carry daily. If you know someone who’s always tired, or constantly seeks reassurance, offer them kindness. Don’t question it—just support them. We don’t like feeling this way either. I’m still trying. Therapy helps. Losing my dad to suicide in 2021, it set me back more than I expected. Most days are hard—really hard. But I’m here, I’m fighting, and I’m trying. If you’re struggling, please talk to someone. Don’t bottle it up. Your story matters. You matter. And it can get better. This mental health awareness photo series, created in the serene and private landscapes near Lake Calhoun in New London-Spicer, Minnesota, is a powerful reminder that everyone carries a unique story. While each story is deeply personal, there is always a thread of shared humanity—we all struggle, we all feel, and we all matter. Your story is worth telling.  Through the images I create and share, my goal is to challenge the stigma surrounding mental health.  I hope this project inspires more open conversations about mental illness, encourages education and empathy, and reminds people to be more mindful of the words they use.   No matter what someone is going through, physically or mentally, we all deserve the same compassion and care. Most of all, I hope this series empowers others to choose vulnerability over silence, strength over shame. Together, we can make a difference—one story, one image, one act of understanding at a time.

I photographed this series during the Black Lives Matter protests in Minneapolis. While the protests were centered in the Twin Cities, this individual session took place in Willmar, Minnesota—a smaller town but just as powerful voice. The entire shoot was centered around Juven, a passionate individual and photographer who came to me with strong ideas for how he wanted to express himself. While I provided direction when needed, most of this session was purely his vision—I loved collaborating in a way that truly showcased his creativity and emotion. This Black Lives Matter photo session was part of a broader photo series I created to celebrate Black lives—the joy, the pain, the strength, the vulnerability, and the unrelenting fight for justice and equality. Each person I worked with was encouraged to express themselves however they felt called to—in their own words, in their own style, in their own voice. Whether it was through poetry, a journal entry, a song, or simply raw thoughts in the moment, this space was created to allow those involved to feel seen and heard without judgment. For Juven, that voice came through clearly—through both his powerful presence in front of the camera and the emotional story he chose to share. The session took place in three different locations around Willmar: downtown for bold, badass empowered street portraits; in a family member’s backyard for more intimate, symbolic imagery; and indoors where deeper emotions could surface in private. One particularly striking image was of Juven looking into a mirror, then sitting in a bathtub full of water—metaphors for drowning in expectations, identity, and inner conflict. Another standout concept was him painting half of his face white with paint—a visual nod to the pressure to “fit in” or be accepted in a society that often fails to embrace Black identity in its fullness. Here is Juven’s story: I came from an orphanage in Haiti where, as a young boy, I was happier than I could be. I was the oldest and always looked after the other children. Even though I was only 3–5 years old, I made sure they had the correct medicine, enough to eat, and clean diapers. One day, I was adopted by a white family—one of the best days of my life. Then I got sent to a white school, where I couldn’t figure out why no one liked me. I was kind, inclusive, and cared about others, but it was like… Some days I existed, and other days, people looked at me like, 'Why are you here?' I spent many lunches alone. Studied alone. I played alone. And the only difference I could see was my skin color. But I told myself that couldn’t be it… could it? Does skin color really matter that much? Do I have to paint myself white to belong? I kept smiling on the outside while slowly tearing myself apart inside—trying to be good enough, but always feeling like I came up short. I’ve accepted that maybe I won’t ever be 'good enough' for the world… but I’ve found peace in knowing that I am made in God’s image. My mind races. Am I working hard enough? Did I smile enough? Did I make everyone happy? Did I disappoint God? I drown in my own thoughts. They say nice guys finish last. That they get stepped on and forgotten. But I refuse to change who I am. I treat women with respect—not because I want anything in return—but because that’s what they deserve. I am a king, and I need no less than a queen. Watch me—see if I finish last. A Reminder to Keep Fighting: Black Live Matter This photo series was born out of the 2020 Black Lives Matter movement during the protests in Minneapolis, but the emotional impact reached far beyond city lines. Juven’s session, photographed in Willmar, Minnesota, is a powerful reminder of the personal stories behind the movement—stories of identity, struggle, and resilience. Through these images and words, I hope to spark reflection, empathy, and conversation. This project isn’t just about protest—it's about humanity. It’s about honoring Black voices, holding space for honest expression, and using photography as a way to say, “We see you. We hear you. You matter.” This is more than a portrait series. It’s a call for change, understanding, and justice. And it’s just the beginning.

How One Couple Chose Remembrance Before Saying “I Do” Starting the Day in a Place That Matters As A Midwest Wedding Photographer at Fairview Cemetery in Willmar, Minnesota Tucked within the quiet town of  Willmar, Minnesota ,  Fairview Cemetery  offered a gentle start to Nadia and Philip’s wedding day. With tall trees and peaceful paths, it was the kind of location where memories echo softly and presence feels sacred. This wasn’t just a quick stop—it was a meaningful pause to visit someone who mattered deeply: Nadia’s father. An Intimate Moment of Remembrance Before the ceremony and before everyone gathered togtehr, Nadia and Philip chose to walk through Fairview with Philip’s daughter at their side. No big production. No posed moments. Just presence, emotion, and love. As their  wedding photographer , I stayed at a distance, simply observing and documenting. There was no need to direct. Everything they shared came naturally—prayers, soft singing, tears, and silence. Photography That Honors the Real Moments These kinds of moments can’t be scripted, and that’s what makes them so powerful. What unfolded in that cemetery wasn’t just about loss—it was about love, legacy, and making space for it all. I’m so grateful I could preserve that time in images that speak for themselves. As a  Midwest wedding photographer located in Willmar Minnesota , it’s these unscripted, honest pauses that I believe truly shape a wedding day. Making Room for What Matters on Your Wedding Day Nadia’s father may not have been physically present at her wedding, but his spirit was deeply felt—in her words, in her presence, and now, in these photographs.  Fairview Cemetery  held space for that, becoming more than a location. It became part of the day’s story. So if there’s something deeply meaningful you want to do on your wedding day— do it . Visit someone. Honor someone. Make space for joy, grief, reflection, celebration. There’s no one way to experience a milestone—only your way. Let It Be Real. Let It Be You. Weddings are about more than timelines and to-do lists. They’re about making room for what matters most. Whether that means stopping at a cemetery, including heirlooms, or carving out a quiet moment just for you—it’s all part of your story. And if you're looking for a wedding photographer  who values those real, emotional, and meaningful moments, I’d be honored to document them. Interested in planning a meaningful session or wedding moment in a location that matters to you?  Let’s talk about how we can make space for your story—wherever it takes us.