Hi, I’m Kelsey, and I’m new here! I figured that with a change in location, I have a chance to introduce myself to hopefully some really great new friends. If you’re here, you probably want to know who I am as a human, not just someone who shows up with the cameras.

So here’s me, but more casual, more the way I’d talk to you if we were sitting at my kitchen table with coffee and a cat trying to climb into your bag.

So how did I end up here? Well, it’s a story. I am a Jersey girl born and raised (the Garden State part, not the Jersey Shore TV show part), but life and love brought me from New Jersey to Connecticut, and finally to Central New York. My husband and I craved peace, quiet, open spaces, and a lot less traffic. After a lengthy search, we ended up in a historic house in Chittenango, and we couldn’t be happier here.

I used to work in public accounting. Yes, I know… that’s quite a change. I spent most of my twenties inside spreadsheets, deadlines, and a version of myself that fit perfectly into a polished corporate box, but didn’t know how to breathe. I kept pushing through because that’s what you do when you’re trying to be “responsible,” even when it’s slowly draining the color out of your life.

But the truth is, I’ve wanted to be a photographer since I was a kid. I still have my first grade drawing of a camera that I used to answer “what do I want to be when I grow up.” I used to carry around disposable cameras everywhere, taking pictures of my friends, the dog, whatever small things felt important to me. It became too expensive for my parents to keep developing my rolls of film, and I was given my first digital camera and I never let go of it (or it’s replacements), even now. And for some reason, grown‑up life convinced me that wasn’t a “real job,” so I tucked it away and left it as a hobby.

Eventually, I couldn’t take the divide between the life I was living and the life my heart wanted. When I finally chose photography again, it felt like my whole nervous system exhaled. I realized I wasn’t meant for a life where I squeezed myself into expectations that didn’t fit. I just wanted to make things, connect with people, and notice the moments everyone else walks past. It should have been a big red flag that most pieces of happiness were connected to creating something, whether it was a photo, a drawing, a good meal, or whatever new craft I’d picked up most recently.

Since then, I’ve changed a lot. I dress differently. I wear my hair the way I actually like it. I let myself take up space now, emotionally and creatively. There’s a slightly witchy, intuitive part of me that I used to hide, and now it’s just… there. Fully invited.

My personal life is simple in the best way. I have a husband, Will, and we live a cozy life in Chittenango with our four cats, Maisie, Minnie, Finn, and Mandu, who take turns causing chaos and being adorable. I spend a lot of time reading (over 70 books in 2025!), cooking, wandering the garden when it’s warm, and sinking into quiet evenings when it’s cold. 

I’ve lost both of my parents before the age of 35, which reshaped a lot of things for me, especially my relationship with memory. You never really know which moments will become the ones you cling to later. That loss changed how I see everything, my own life, other people’s lives, all the tiny flashes of connection we’re usually too busy to notice. Every time I watch a parent squeeze someone’s hand or see a quiet emotional shift on a face, it hits me how fragile and meaningful these tiny moments really are. 

You never know how important a photo is until you go back looking for one. I once photographed a wedding where, the very next morning, the groom’s father passed away. The night before, he was laughing and celebrating and completely alive in every way. Learning the news stunned me, and it’s something I still carry with me—not as a dramatic mantra or a work philosophy, but as a quiet reminder of how quickly everything can change, and how precious it all is. It made me more present in my own life, more aware of the way joy and fragility can coexist in the same moment.

All of these pieces, career shifts, grief, growth, my four ridiculous cats, the cozy routines, shape how I move through the world. I’m warm, human, and pretty easy to be around. I notice things. I give people space. I blend in naturally, but I’m still fully present when it matters. These are just parts of who I am in everyday life, long before a camera ever enters the picture, ways of being that have grown out of everything I’ve lived through and everything I care about.

So here’s the short version:

I’m someone who found her way back to herself, and photography was part of that.
I care about real connection and honest moments.
I value meaning over perfection, and presence over performance.

Thanks for being here and letting me share a little of who I am. Starting fresh in a new place feels big in all the best ways, and it means a lot to be able to show up honestly, exactly as I am now, not who I used to be. I’m looking forward to finding my people here, one small connection at a time.