Valkyrie
This image is part of a deeply personal fine art series I had been building — something heavier, something real. I’ve been chasing this fusion of classical influence and raw, modern emotion. The idea for this shoot came from a place of emotional exhaustion and resilience — not just mine, but something shared. Something collective.
We titled this image Valkyrie — not only for the model’s name but for mythology’s sake, but for what that name symbolizes: power earned through pain, grace that’s been dragged through war.
Here’s something wild — this shot was taken in one single take. One. She had only just found balance in that pose and was already starting to fall forward. There was no room for adjustments, no perfecting the angle. We caught this moment as it was — fragile, fleeting, and honest. That instability? You can feel it in the frame. And it couldn’t have been more fitting.
The model here isn’t just posing — she’s protecting something. Maybe herself. Maybe a version of herself. There’s a quiet desperation tucked behind her calm expression. Her arms wrap around something fragile and chaotic — like we do when we’re trying to keep the last pieces from falling apart.
I didn’t want pretty. I wanted truth. And sometimes the truth looks like tulle and lace clinging to skin that’s bracing for impact.
Lighting this scene was about more than just drama — I used painterly strokes of shadow and light, pulling from my obsession with Renaissance oil paintings and 19th-century portraiture. But everything modern — the costume, the set, the intention — was filtered through my current headspace: tangled, tired, and somehow still standing.
This image lives in the liminal space between breakdown and control. That “in between” is something I live with daily — thanks to my own mental health struggles, and the trauma that’s become part of my creative DNA. I don’t hide from it anymore. I let it bleed into the work. Because that’s where connection happens.
When I look at this photo, I see stillness. But it doesn’t feel like peace. It feels like containment.
And if that hits you somewhere uncomfortable — good. That means you’re human.
I don’t shoot for likes. I shoot to feel something — and maybe make you feel something too. This is vulnerability, framed. Welcome to the mess. Welcome to the art.