I’ve had a camera in my paws since grade school, daughter of an artistic mom and a technical dad who loved photography. My starter camera was a Kodak Instamatic, replaced by a Fujica SLR in college.
Later in life, while volunteering at a wildlife hospital, I started seeing my camera as an incredible bridge — a way to bring the wild animal’s experience closer to our own by framing their joys, their sorrows, their challenges, and complexities.
My guiding principle is putting the animal’s welfare above the photo, an ethical foundation I credit to my mentors at the wildlife hospital. I photograph from respectful distances, using long lenses, while learning the natural history of the species in front of my lens.
I was born in the States to Latvian parents, and spent some formative years as an expat kid in Geneva and Amsterdam, attending international schools — which makes me a bit of a misfit and a hybrid. I aspired to veterinary sciences before I finally admitted that word patterns made sense in my brain, whereas mathematical formulas did not.
I’d always loved and been involved with animals, but it was my college conservation and resources classes that set into motion an evolution of spirit. They introduced me to an entirely new canon of ecological works, and formed my environmental understanding going forward.
I try to paint in pixels how it all feels when I’m in the field: that heart-stopping moment when ten thousand Snow Geese take flight over Fir Island … when an old bull elk bugles under Colorado’s first snow drops … when coyotes yip and howl in the waning California sun … when a pod of orcas glides past the boat on the Salish Sea, sharing the song of the ocean. It’s all still magic to me, the connection we share with other beings on this planet.
My creative vision and aspiration is a world where we no longer view other species as objects for our use or harm, but rather as peers in this existence.