I picked up a used Pentax K1000 and started telling the story of my city, frame by frame. Little moments-unposed, unpolished, undeniably real. I called them NYC Vignettes—short visual stories that distill the essence of a scene or a soul. A vignette, by definition, is a brief description or image that captures the heart of something clearly and neatly—and that’s exactly what I was after.

To feed my darkroom habit, I took an assistant job at the International Center of Photography—sweeping floors, mixing chemicals, and soaking up everything I could in exchange for time with the magic.

Black and white became my language of choice. It strips away the noise and leaves only the essentials—light, shadow, nuggets of truth. My portfolio lives in grayscale, where emotion pops without distraction. But my travel blog? That’s in full color. Because when I travel, I’m not documenting an itinerary—I’m capturing a vibe. It’s about mood, texture, and story, not step-by-step directions. I want you to feel like you were there, breathing it all in, one vivid vignette at a time.

These days, I’m into the ultimate German power couple: Leica and Porsche. With my photography, time stands still—but at the racetrack, I like to rip it wide open. I drive a silver Porsche convertible named Wally—short for Waltraud, an Old High German name meaning “ruler” and “strength.” She’s a gorgeous 2000 Boxster S, and when she hugs a curve or growls down the straightaway, it’s poetry in motion. Where Leica gives me stillness, Wally gives me speed—and I need both to feel alive.