Birdee

Where did you grow up, and when did you realise you wanted to photograph?

I grew up in Central Florida and was always creative in some way. Through middle school and high school I devoted most of my time to playing in the band, with the odd art class here and there. I took a photography class in high school where we learned to use the darkroom, and I loved it. But I grew up with middle-class working parents and I also loved science, so when it came to choosing a major I went for a degree in diagnostic medical sonography — I was excited to have found something visual and scientific at once. I’ve been doing ultrasound for fifteen years now and it’s been a great career. It was only this past year that I took the plunge and became a full-time photographer.

What was the path to becoming a professional?

In my mid to late twenties I began to realise I had become disconnected from myself. It wasn’t immediate. It took trials, conflicts and a failing marriage before I saw that I didn’t know how to listen to my intuition and trust it. That led me to look for an outlet, and it came in the form of self-portraits. Looking back, it was a beautiful way to start reconnecting with myself and to focus on something creative again. I started sharing the self-portraits on Instagram in 2014, and there I began to connect with other artists — people who wanted to express themselves deeply through images and not feel alone in it. Several of the friends I made encouraged me to keep going with this search. Over the past few years I started shooting other people, and being able to reflect their beauty back at them is what made me ready to do this full time.

Did you know from the start what you wanted to shoot?

I had no idea the self-portraits would turn into something bigger. I went about it without limitations, goals, rules or expectations. I was creating purely for the enjoyment of it, to express myself and to learn more about myself. Because of that freedom, and the excitement of something new, I made a lot of work in the first couple of years. It was only once there was a body of work behind me that I could look back and see a style.

Your work is centred on femininity. How do you see women in photography, and have you struggled to build a career as one?

I’ve never been deliberate about my focus or my style; it has all come naturally. I think it’s an expression of the subconscious, and another way of learning more about myself every day. Because I came to photography as a form of self-discovery — appreciating my own sensuality and bravery — I naturally see and celebrate that in others.

So far, the only thing holding me back has been my own self-limiting beliefs, and I work on those daily.

What kind of clients do you work with, and how does such a personal style sit with commercial work?

My clients are individuals who hire me for immersive shoots. The reasons vary: a transition in life, a move, overcoming a tragedy, healing, celebrating something, or simply wanting to feel beautiful and make art. A shoot usually takes a whole day, which gives them time to explore those feelings and express them in their own way. It’s also time set aside for play, which feels celebratory and freeing in itself.
I haven’t done commercial work yet, but it’s something I’d like to explore.

You shoot film and digital. When do you reach for each?

I always shoot both, and I love each for its own reasons. Above water I usually end up using only the film images. Underwater it’s different: the subject is almost always moving and I’m chasing precise moments, so I take hundreds of photos in a single shoot. Digital is simply more practical for that. Even so, I can’t help taking a few rolls of film underwater every time.

What does photography mean to you now?

Photography lets me share the beauty I witness. When I can show someone how beautiful, creative, playful and strong they are, they see themselves in a completely new way. That’s what keeps me taking photos.

Have you been through a creative crisis?

Early on there were a couple of occasions when partners wanted me to stop taking self-portraits and sharing them. Maybe that isn’t a creative crisis exactly, but it was a crisis in the sense that I had to step back and work out what mattered to me and what I wanted to say with my photography. It was beyond frustrating at the time, but I’m glad I was forced to question my intentions. It let me find my voice, and move forward with more purpose.

Pick one photograph and tell us what’s behind it.

It’s one of my early self-portraits, and I love how it conveys the inner world I was exploring at the time. For me the meaning of an image usually isn’t revealed in the planning but in the looking back, sometimes years later. What matters is to connect with myself and stay honest and open-hearted while I’m making it.

What’s next?

I feel more ready than ever to try new things: commercial work, art shows, all the things that are frightening because they’re new. I’ve found that moving through something that terrifies me makes me grow in ways I wouldn’t have imagined. I’m passionate about making art and sharing beauty — so, in other words, I’m open if you’d like to work with me.