I remember one autumn afternoon, when I was at my mother’s house organizing some old things. I found a box of photos that had been stored for years, full of black and white images, some slightly faded by time. Like a child, I started taking them out one by one, and as I did, something unexpected happened. I came across a photo of my father, still young, smiling at a family party. He was with my grandparents, my uncles, all gathered around a table, and the image captured the essence of that joy, so pure, so full of life.

One day, while editing a set of documentary photographs for a family, I saw it clearly: romanticizing life isn’t about creating a fantasy, it’s about noticing the magic that already exists.

Life has a curious way of leading us exactly where we need to be, even when, in the moment, it feels like we are lost.

My story is not one of shortcuts or instant success but of overcoming, reinventing, and loving—what I do, my children, and life itself.

From an early age, my curiosity about the world led me to study International Relations. But the paths we choose don’t always make us feel whole.

When we think of emotional photography, we often picture expressive faces—smiles, tears, furrowed brows. But some of the most powerful images don’t include a face at all.

Emotion is not just in the eyes, it’s in the hands that holds a baby feet between diaper changes, the tension in a hunched back, or the soft touch of intertwined fingers.

There’s something incredibly special about the early moments of a newborn's life. Their tiny features, their soft skin, and the bond they share with their family are all fleeting but precious.

There was a time in my life when anxiety felt like a constant hum in the background, an unshakable presence that colored everything I did.

My mind was always racing—rehashing the past, worrying about the future—but rarely here, in the now. It was exhausting, and in those years of healing, I found myself searching for something—anything—that could bring me back to the present.

I’m thrilled to announce a special giveaway on Instagram to celebrate the art of storytelling photography. I’m not just giving away a free eBook—I’m creating an opportunity for us to connect, grow, and share our love for this powerful genre of photography.

The Story Behind "Migrant Mother": How a Single Photograph Defined an Era

Photography has the unique power to capture a single moment that speaks volumes. Few images have done this as profoundly as Dorothea Lange’s "Migrant Mother" (1936)—a photograph that not only documented the struggles of the Great Depression but also became a timeless symbol of resilience, hardship, and human endurance.

Photography is painting with light. Every photograph is shaped by how light falls on a subject, creating shadows, highlights, and textures that add depth and emotion. As a documentary and storytelling photographer, I’ve learned that understanding light is one of the most powerful ways to elevate an image from ordinary to extraordinary.

In this post, we’ll explore how light influences photography, the difference between natural and artificial light, and how you can use it to enhance your storytelling.

Photography has the power to transport us into a moment, to make us feel the weight of history in a single frame. Some photographs are carefully posed, curated to perfection. Others, like Pete Souza’s "The Situation Room", are raw, unscripted glimpses into the reality of power, leadership, and human emotion.

Picture this: your little one, just a few days old, snugly wrapped in a blanket, yawning in the most adorable way imaginable. You look at them and think, "How can I possibly freeze this moment forever?" Well, that’s where I come in — with my camera and a deep love for capturing life's tender beginnings.

But first, let me tell you a secret. This giveaway? It’s more than just a marketing strategy. It’s personal. It’s my way of giving back, of saying thank you to all the families who trust me to document their journey. And, honestly, it’s also my chance to make someone’s dream of timeless family photos come true without the pressure of finances or logistics.

Photography is more than just a click of a button—it’s a way of preserving memories, expressing emotions, and connecting with the world. It’s about capturing fleeting moments that tell powerful stories, ones that resonate far beyond the frame.

That’s the heart of my new book, "The Art of Storytelling: A Photography Beginner’s Guide", a more than 100 pages guide created to inspire and empower photographers at every level.

Self-portraiture goes beyond just a photograph of ourselves. It is an opportunity to explore our creativity and express emotions, ideas, and stories in a unique way. Every self-portrait becomes a personal work of art, where we can play with different styles, compositions, and elements to create something that reflects our inner vision. This practice allows us to step away from everyday reality and bring our imagination to life, resulting in images that are both creative and deeply personal. Self-portraiture, therefore, becomes a way to reinvent oneself and explore new forms of expression

I always thought burnout would arrive with a lot of fanfare—sirens blaring, smoke rising, and me waving a white flag. But instead, it crept in silently, like an uninvited guest, pulling the rug from under me with every “yes, I can do that” I said.

This theme of embracing imperfection runs through everything I do, especially in my work as a documentary family photographer. I’ve built my career around capturing the real, unfiltered moments that tell a family’s true story. It’s not about posed smiles or perfect lighting—it’s about the laughter, the tears, and even the messiness that comes with family life. It’s those raw moments that mean the most because they reflect who we truly are.

Childhood trauma often leaves a lasting imprint on our lives. For me, these imprints were like invisible threads woven into the fabric of who I am, shaping my interactions, relationships, and worldview. However, as I grew and found solace in creative outlets, I began to see those threads not as limitations but as opportunities for healing. My journey as a family documentary photographer has been one of the most transformative aspects of that healing process.

We woke up early that morning. 3 AM is early, right? We had a flight to catch at 5 AM. We arrived in Amsterdam on schedule and found the city still wrapped in the quiet of dawn. It was my first time in the Netherlands, a country I had always wanted to visit.

As a photographer, I had the privilege of documenting Joyce and Edson in a morning of their life, as they navigate the joys of parenthood, home renovation, and the unconditional love shared between a growing family and their beloved pets.

Family documentary photography goes far beyond simply capturing images; it encapsulates precious and ephemeral moments that tell the story of a family over time.

Probably the most personal post I had written here. For research for a project, I went to see my old family photo archive. Photos I took of our family. I was in the early stages of improving my photography..