The first time I realized people were interested in what I photographed, I lived on an isolated atoll in the Marshall Islands. The more time I spent in the water, which was nearly every waking moment, the more I began to see.  It didn’t take long for me to begin to learn the names of fish species, find hidden nudibranchs, and lose my fear of sharks.  

While the atoll was remote, we were far from isolated. The human diaspora made it’s way in the form of garbage that continually washed up in the tidal pools and along beaches. My awareness of what species were missing in the lagoon grew as my SCUBA skills allowed me to venture further outside the atoll and into the ocean. Corals, sharks, giant clams, crinoids, and the brilliance of tropical fish that defied imagination were easily found in island waters accessible only by boat, especially oceanside. In the lagoon, only remnants of populations remained in the areas accessible by shore. My new awareness revealed island habitats amongst sand deserts where the ocean was still healthy and vibrant. Those are the places I photographed the most, obscuring reality to those I shared my images with.  As my time there began to close, I intentionally began to document the coral rubble, microplastics in tidal pools, and the world’s garbage I found washed up on the beaches. That’s when I became a conservation photographer. 

After the Marshall Islands, I spent a few years in Northern Italy and today, I somehow find myself in Spokane, Washington, far from the ocean. There are stories needing to be told everywhere one is, so while I’m here, I will do my best to tell them.