VISUAL STORYTELLING FOR BUSINESSES
B2B Photography / Corporate Photography / Brand Photography / Executive Headshots & Portraits / Portrait Photography / Corporate Event Photography / Corporate Lifestyle Photography / Small Business Photography / Workplace & Office Environment Photography / Behind-the-Scenes Photography / Process Photography / Product & Service Photography / Editorial & PR Photography / Design-Build Photography / Annual Report Photography / Investor Relations Photography / Commercial & Advertising Photography / Biotech & Life Sciences Photography / Laboratory & Scientific x / Biomedical Photography / Cleanroom Photography / Aviation Photography / Aerospace Logistics Photography / Hospital Photography / Medical Office Photography / Industrial & Manufacturing Photography / Architectural & Interior Photography / Hard Hat Update Photography / AEC Photography / Corporate Real Estate Photography / Residetial Photography / Staging Photography / Civic & Institutional Architecture / Luxury Destination Hospitality Photography / Hotel & Resort Photography / Editorial Photography / Commercial Lifestyle Photography / Vacation Rental Photography / Food & Retail Photography / Brand Asset Photography / Digital Asset Library Photography / I don’t shoot weddings
Photography is a choice
A picture is taken, but a photograph is made, and the difference lives entirely in choice, in seeing something before it exists and then deciding to chase it, in having a rough image in your head before the camera ever comes up, not a blueprint but a direction, a sense of where this wants to go, because once you know that, where you stand matters, where you don't stand matters just as much, light isn't something you accept but something you negotiate with or refuse outright, and the frame becomes an argument you're making on purpose rather than a fact you're recording by accident, and when the moment is gone the choices don't stop, they multiply, because now you have to decide what this thing actually is, how far to push it, how much to hold back, how to turn something flat and silent into something that carries weight or pulls a viewer a little closer than they expected, and most of the time the plan fails, the image resists, the idea you started with proves incomplete or wrong, but that's part of it, because making a photograph is adjusting without losing intent, abandoning what no longer serves the image, choosing the mistake that says more than the correct version ever could, understanding that precision and accuracy are optional but intention is not, and that if you're not choosing at every step then you aren't making anything at all, you're just taking pictures and hoping one of them accidentally becomes a photograph.
Why Hire a Photographer
Most photographers are good at taking pictures. That's not the hard part. The hard part is showing up prepared, running the job cleanly, delivering on time without a production that outlasts its welcome, and knowing the difference between an image that looks nice and one that actually does something for your business. I know that difference because I spent most of my twenties and thirties in professional film production, where the job got done no matter what, on time and on budget, because the alternative wasn't an option. I brought that with me when I picked up a camera professionally, and it's still the thing clients mention most when they come back. Not just that they liked the photos. That the whole thing was easy. That I showed up, figured it out, didn't make it weird, and sent them something they could actually use. I also spent years shooting stock photography early in my career, which taught me something most photographers never learn: it doesn't matter if you like the photo. It matters whether it works. Whether it's clear and immediate and does the job it was hired to do. That's a hard thing to internalize when you're in love with your own eye, and I'm grateful I learned it early. So if you're looking for a photographer in Portsmouth NH or anywhere on the New Hampshire seacoast or Greater Boston area who can think commercially, run a job professionally, and make images that look like your business at its best rather than a stock photo of someone else's, that's what I do. That's all I do.
Who are you?
No, not you. You should already have a pretty good grasp of that. This is about me. Because, why not? It's my name at the top of the page, and you're here to get to know the real me. The deep me. The side of me that I would only share with those closest to my heart. And on a public website. So who am I, you ask? I'm a Florida boy, born in Tennessee, with a quick jaunt in Colorado, followed by 20 years in Los Angeles, who found his way to New Hampshire thanks to a global pandemic, and longing to be your friendly neighborhood photographer. Because, with great power comes great responsibility. And with my superpower of bending reality into something worth looking at, it's my responsibility to at the very least make it interesting. I didn't go to school for this. Though I did get a degree in telecommunications. Which had cameras and stuff. And I didn't get a career in this until much later. But I did work in film production for most of my 20s and 30s, which taught me how to put together and deliver a job, no matter what, on time and on budget. And then I ended up in New Hampshire, as a pandemic refugee, seeing refuge from traffic, helicopters, earthquakes, and fire. I came out here to be closer to extended family, only to have my wife become a bi-coastal telecommuter and a happily married single dad to my two kids, two dogs, and cat. I fell in love with photography from before I can remember. My dad had cameras, a lifetime subscription to National Geographic, while the local bookstore had a section with something called Boudoir. I didn't speak French, but I loved to look at the pictures. The camera and I really met and fell in love after college. I had the knack to make stuff, and my dad was cleaning out his old cabinet of gear, so I became the kid with a camera. Headshots and downtown LA, before the new money moved in, was a stomping ground. Glad I didn't get stabbed. Glad I had a few shots that actually came out better than I expected. Photography became work for a while when I needed something to go after getting out of film. It was functional, and the business grew. But I wasn't creating. The blinders grew. The vision got smaller. And then the world stopped. Whiplash. Backlash. Slingshot across the continent to a tiny town I had only visited a few times. No one knows my name. And I have to ask, "Who the hell are you?" You're well past the halfway point, and an old dog can't learn new tricks. But there's still that anxious puppy in there, wanting to tear the furniture apart, just to show you how much they care. Am I still the kid with the camera? God, I hope so.
Why Portsmouth?
When my wife and I decided to leave Southern California for New Hampshire, people joked that if we had just moved to Maine then we could say we moved clear across the country. But since I can now walk to my neighbor to the North (or is it the East), I'm gonna say "close enough". Here's how most people visit Portsmouth. While crossing the first big bridge since leaving Boston, they soar over a wide river and see a quaint red brick new england town with a single white spire reaching out above and think to themselves, "oh that looks cute." And, it is. For us, it was family. Her family to be specific. She's got aunts and uncles and cousins and all kinds of connections to the area. She sort of grew up here, went to boarding school a few towns over and even crashed here for a bit in her twenties. Anyway, we used to visit every couple of summers, mostly passing through on our way to Maine and looking at this little town from that crazy bridge, thinking the same damn thing everyone does up there, along with a touch of "wouldn't it be nice to live here"? Because where we came from, the city of angels that never sleeps and loves to shake things up and burn things down from time to time, this really did seem like an impossible place in a far away land. Which is exactly how it and all that family felt when we found ourselves quarantined and locked-down a continent away in the summer of 2020. Covid sucked in LA. The lock down was for real. And our families were very far away. So we did what any sensible family would do, packed up all our shit as quick as we could and got the hell out of dodge. We bought our home sight-unseen, except for the help of my wife's cousin, who told us over the phone kids were riding around on bikes on a beautiful summer day, and we better put in an offer in a hurry. Which we did. And now we're here. 5 years. And I like to walk my dogs to Maine on occasion. Or drive my car over that bridge to hit up the outlet malls. And from way up there, especially in the late afternoon when the sun is blanketing those red bricks and making that spire shine, I think to myself, this is the shot. This is always the shot. Not the postcard version, not the one everyone takes from the same spot on the same bridge. The one where you're actually paying attention. Where you notice the light doing something specific to a specific thing at a specific moment that won't happen again today. That's what I came here for, even if I didn't know it when I packed the truck. Portsmouth has that. The seacoast has that. The businesses, the restaurants, the people who built something real in a place worth building it. I'm a photographer in Portsmouth NH who spent twenty years in Los Angeles learning how to see, and five years here learning what was actually worth looking at. Turns out it was this. It was always this.
I don’t shoot weddings
This is a lie. And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. The truth is, I just haven’t shot one yet. And probably for good reason. Wedding photography is a thing! And by that, I mean it’s a specialty all of its own. And a beast to master. I would actually love to shoot a wedding. And if you’ve got one coming up, call me. Or text. Email works too. But let’s be honest, you’re not hiring a wedding photographer. I don’t shoot weddings. I shoot businesses, and people, and products. Things that sell. I tell that story and get the job delivered on time and on budget with as little fuss as possible. Weddings are different. They’re soft, and they’re lovely, and the expectations and logistics are something completely unknown to me. It’s like hiring a chef that makes a really mean steak to bake your wedding cake. Sure, it’s a chef. But it might not be the right chef for the job. But then again, maybe you want a meaty cake. Wait, that didn’t come out right. The point is, maybe you don’t want to do the same thing everyone else is doing. Maybe you try something new and see what happens. That’s what getting married is anyway, isn’t it?
To Thine Own Self Be True
There's a version of this page that lists services and bullet points and tells you I'm passionate about visual storytelling and committed to exceeding your expectations. That page exists on a thousand other photographer websites and you've already closed those tabs. This is not that page. This is just me. A commercial photographer based in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, who came here the long way around. Tennessee, Colorado, Los Angeles, a pandemic, a rental RV, a house bought sight-unseen. And at some point stopped trying to figure out what kind of photographer I was supposed to be and just started shooting what I actually care about. People. Not businesses. People. The ones who built something from nothing and show up every day to keep it alive. The chef whose hands tell you everything about how seriously they take the food. The shop owner who lights up when a customer walks in. The founder who still can't believe this thing they made actually works. Sure, I shoot the buildings and the products and the spaces. Restaurants, hotels, retail, interiors that need to feel like somewhere worth walking into. But that's the backdrop. The story is always the person standing in front of it. Not a catalog. Not stock art you've seen a hundred times before. Just the real thing. I work in Portsmouth, across the New Hampshire seacoast, into Greater Boston, and throughout all of New England. And if the job is interesting enough, considerably further then that.
Intenionally Authentic
When I was first starting out as a professional photographer—a line you don’t always know when you’ve crossed—I came across a handful of memes and articles asking, “How do you know when you’re a professional?” The obvious, straight answer is when you start making more than you spend. It's a steep climb when step one is purchasing a trunk load of equipment. But the "fun" answers were always more relatable: “When you dream of upgrading your tripod.” “When you take your lenses off before putting them in the bag.” “When you can make something uninteresting look interesting.” Before I knew it, I had accomplished all of these. I felt comfortable. But then something happened that no one told me to expect. A next phase that seemed counterintuitive, and at first, a little soul-sucking: Meetings. Lots of meetings. Almost as many meetings as there are shoots. Every job now comes with a seat at the table. And I’m not talking about a quick tech scout or a phone call to talk price. I’m talking about deep conversations. Back-and-forths over the concept. The purpose. The meaning. What are we trying to accomplish here, and how can we do it to the very best of our ability? Both sides of the table, trying to pull a little bit more out of each other. It doesn’t stop there, either. Even on set, the question remains: How can we take this up a notch? All of this comes with a great risk. What if we talk ourselves out of the spontaneity and energy of the actual thing? What if we go too far and sterilize it into something generic and safe? That is the next hurdle in my path: How to keep it real? How to make it look like the very first time you saw something and were amazed at what you saw. It’s a fine line. A wire’s edge. It doesn’t come naturally—it has to be crafted to look like it does. That feels pretty pro to me.