Before the Camera: Who I Was

We all have a life outside of work, right? For me, that’s always been true. I’ve never let what I do define who I am; not my jobs, not my hobbies. Before photography, I was just a kid who loved sports. I played hockey, baseball, soccer, and I was obsessed with basketball. I grew up racing bikes with my friends and collecting memories, not megapixels.

Eventually, I got into cars. Classic ones, muscle cars, anything with speed and style. I was a huge Dale Earnhardt fan, and that sparked something in me. I knew early on: if I couldn’t drive these cars, maybe I could photograph them. That led me to take a photography class in high school. I didn’t know it at the time, but that elective would quietly lay the foundation for who I’d become.

Falling In and Out — Then Back In

Like many passions, photography came and went through the years. Life got in the way. But eventually, it came back; and when it did, it hit me harder than ever.

Photography became a teacher in its own right. It taught me discipline, patience, and work ethic in ways no 9-to-5 job ever could. After graduating college in 2012, I had a career in the private sector. But something pulled me back. Ten years later, in 2022, I returned to school and earned a degree in photography in 2024. A full decade between degrees, and a completely different man in the mirror.

This return wasn’t just about skill. It was about becoming more present. Slowing down. Seeing the world and myself with clarity. That’s what photography gave me.

Lessons From the Sidelines

When I first started photographing sports, I had no idea what I was doing. Shots were underexposed, blurry, or way too noisy. But photography taught me how to adapt. I learned to pause, breathe, and problem-solve. I adjusted shutter speeds, found natural light, and started positioning myself better. It wasn’t just technical progress, it was personal growth.

Photography reminded me of boxing. If you don’t show up to practice, you won’t be ready for the fight. Every shoot became a lesson. Every mistake, a stepping stone.

And with every shot, I learned that the camera wasn’t just pointed outward. It was turning inward too.

Photography and Personal Growth

This craft didn’t just make me a better artist. It made me a better man. Through all the self-doubt, rejection, and comparison to others, photography taught me to take things in stride.

Whenever I’m struggling, I look back at my old work. I scroll through past sessions and current edits and remind myself just how far I’ve come. I’ve learned to see the improvement in my composition, my editing, my eye for detail. And while I still question myself sometimes (because who doesn’t?), those reflections build resilience and fuel my growth.

I still remember a particularly tough photojournalism professor who kept throwing challenges my way. I hated it then, but I see now how it shaped me. Being forced to go out, talk to strangers, ask questions, it pushed me out of my comfort zone. And when I felt like giving up, I reminded myself: I’ve made it through worse. I wasn’t about to let this stop me. So I kept going. And I finished what I started.

The Shot That Changed Everything

Photography even changed the way I see people. As someone raised in a culture that values pride, tradition, and storytelling, I was reminded that everyone has a story worth seeing.

There’s one photo that shifted everything for me. A woman dressed as a charro, face painted like a Catrina, playing violin in the middle of a crowd. It wasn’t just about her, it was about everything in that moment. The music, the joy, the culture, the pride.

That shot reminded me to slow down. To soak it all in. To be proud of who I am and where I come from and to use my camera as a tool to highlight the beauty of my roots. That image wasn’t just a favorite. It was a turning point. It showed me what my photography could mean; not just to me, but to others.

What I’d Tell My Younger Self

I’ve had many moments of reflection. Sitting with my thoughts, wondering how photography has shaped me not just creatively, but personally.

It’s helped me focus. Made me more empathetic. Humbled me. Grounded me. It's taught me to be present in the smallest of moments. Whether at family events or out on a solo walk. I’ve learned to be grateful for the now.

If I could speak to that younger version of myself, the one holding a camera in high school, I’d say:

“Don’t let go. This is the greatest gift you’ll ever receive. It’ll give you joy, tears, confidence, and memories that last a lifetime. Without ever asking for anything in return.”

Why I Keep Showing Up

I didn’t write this because I have all the answers. I wrote it because I’m still in it, still figuring it out. Still pushing through the struggles.

And I know someone out there reading this is probably going through something similar.

Why does this story matter? Because quitting is easy. But it comes at a cost. You walk away empty-handed the moment you give up.

Photography is bigger than gear. Bigger than lenses and fancy camera bags. It’s about connection. About holding onto moments that matter. About empathy and memory.

Sometimes, it’s about offering a bite of food to someone you met mid-shoot, someone curled up on the street, starving, just trying to make it to tomorrow. And realizing that the photo you took? It captured more than an image. It captured humanity.

So if you’re struggling in your journey, don’t quit. Be patient. Keep showing up.

The lens doesn’t just help you see the world. Sometimes, it helps you see yourself.

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