The Heart Behind the Lens

-A Mother’s Heart with an Artist’s Soul.

Hey!!!! I’m Julie, or better known as Mama to the littles

Photography has always felt like home to me.

I graduated from UNC Charlotte with a Bachelor of Fine Arts, concentrating in photography. Art school taught me how to see light — how it falls across a cheek, how it glows at golden hour, how it tells a story without saying a word. But motherhood taught me why that light matters.

For 15 years, I was a school teacher. I loved nurturing young hearts and watching confidence bloom. But as my own family grew, I felt a gentle tug toward something different — something slower, softer, more aligned with the life I wanted to build for my children.

I’m a mama to three sweet souls: Micah (8), Tilly (6), and baby Myles (5 months). They are my why. They are the reason I notice the in-between moments — sandy toes, sleepy cuddles, wind-tangled hair, the way tiny hands still reach for mine.

Photographer Sally Mann once said,

“Photographs open doors into the past, but they also allow a look into the future.”

I carry that with me during every session. I’m not just taking pictures for today — I’m preserving a feeling for the years ahead. The way your child fits perfectly on your hip. The laughter that bubbles up when no one is trying. The quiet magic of simply being together.

We live in a small town where sunsets feel personal and community runs deep. I love the beach — salty air, warm sand, and that soft honey-colored light right before dusk. I adore all things Disney because I believe a little magic belongs in everyday life. And Hawaii will always have a piece of my heart — its colors, its calm, its way of slowing everything down.

Sally Mann also wrote,

“Hold still. Keep still. Until the magic happens.”

That’s how I photograph. I don’t rush. I don’t force. I let moments unfold naturally. I watch for the light. I wait for the laughter. I lean into the real.

Because one day, these images won’t just decorate your walls.

They’ll tell your children who they were.

They’ll remind you of how it felt.

They’ll hold a season that passed too quickly.

And that, to me, is sacred.