Hi! I’m Julia.
I’m a queer, neurodivergent photographer based in Vermont, and a lot of the way I move through this work is shaped by my own experiences being seen and photographed.
I know what it feels like to step in front of a camera and wonder if the person behind it truly sees you. I also know what it feels like to feel seen, held, and known in front of someone’s camera.
I think that’s a huge part of why I approach photography the way I do now.
Before photography became my full-time work, I spent years studying criminal justice, incarceration, and structural inequality. Much of that work focused on the worst experiences of people’s lives and the systems that shape who gets protected, believed, punished, or ignored.
Before that, I worked in youth programming at a mentoring nonprofit that served disenfranchised communities. While doing this, I learned a lot about the connections between autonomy, trust, emotional regulation, trauma, and safety.
So, after years spent thinking, studying, and writing about harm and hardship, I realized I wanted to spend more of my life documenting love, connection, joy, and the ways people care for each other instead.
Photography gives me a way to connect with people while focusing on what helps us all feel alive, seen, and held.
If I’m not behind the camera, I’m probably wandering through the woods, hanging out with my partner and our cats, daydreaming about weird community-centered homestead ideas, or accidentally turning a very manageable house project into something wildly overcomplicated.
A lot of my life outside photography revolves around nature, community, deep friendships, and trying to figure out how to build a life that feels less capitalist and more human. I spend potentially too much time trying to convince my friends to move to my land in Vermont and an equally concerning amount of time deciding whether I can justify starting yet another house project before finishing the last one.
None of this is particularly surprising once you realize how obsessed I am with photographing intimate weddings and adventurous elopements. Anywhere involving mountains, forests, lakes, dramatic weather, supportive communities, muddy boots, or at least one moment where everyone collectively goes “well... this certainly became an adventure” -- I’m in.
can i show you some photos i adore?
These are the kinds of moments I keep coming back to over and over again.
The messy, joyful, quiet, emotionally honest stuff.
All of these photos happened because the folks in them were just existing in the moment.
When you hire a photographer, you are not just hiring someone for their editing style or ability to compose a beautiful image.
You are inviting someone into your relationships, your family dynamics, your wedding day, your nervous system, and some incredibly vulnerable moments.
Especially with weddings and elopements, your photographer is often with you during some of the most emotionally intense, intimate, chaotic, joyful, and meaningful parts of the day. So I would argue that their presence matters just as much as their portfolio.
I care a lot about helping people feel calmer, safer, more present, and more like themselves instead of more performative or self-conscious.
That means there is room for changing plans, weird weather, sensory breaks, nervous laughter, tears, awkwardness, excitement, quiet moments, chaotic moments, and moments that look absolutely nothing like Pinterest but feel deeply like your actual life.
Anyways…
Here’s the human you could be hanging out with all day :)
