Architectural photography can be a slow burn. It is often a meticulous, intentional process that prioritizes getting things right instead of sheer volume. 12-15 images are what I would feel comfortable delivering to a client while maintaining my standards for quality, and that’s assuming a full day from dawn to dusk. We get fussy over the details, deliberate over inches in a composition, and optimize the lighting either by introducing flashes or chasing the sun to be at the right place and time.

A series of architectural photographs of the 6th street viaduct bridge in Los Angeles, California. My favorite thing to do in this world is wandering through cities and watch them breathe, so it stands to reason that my favorite projects are often public works designed to pump life into an urban landscape. They provide a function (parking garages, bridges, skateparks, etc.), but serve a higher purpose of cultural significance. You can usually associate them with their respective cities. These are the projects that inspire me to tell stories with images rather than just take pictures, and those are the stories that inspired me to become an architectural photographer in the first place.

My job was a bit different this time around. In addition to my usual offering of architectural photography, I was also asked to capture an abundance of details and textures. This shoot became more of a branding and product photography shoot with elements of architectural photography sprinkled in. The key to success was forged in emulating the formulas of many of our favorite films: Wide establishing shots to establish a sense of place and orient the audience and detailed close-ups to stir emotions and personal connection.

A photo essay documenting the ships stuck in purgatory off the coast of Los Angeles and Long Beach during the peak of the global supply chain crisis. The pictures were taken from a helicopter to provide visual context that reveals just how dire the situation was.

BTS of an impromptu architectural photography shoot through Redlands University just outside of Los Angeles. Gain insight into my process, my favorite gear, and post-production techniques.

COVID rates are plummeting, vaccines are working, and the country is finally starting to re-open its economy to pre-pandemic standards. Americans have spent more than a year cooped up in their homes and they are dying to make up for lost time and experiences. The market is anticipating an explosion of travel and leisure activities this summer. Consumers are ready to return to gyms, concerts, live music, restaurants, museums, movie theaters, and other leisure activities that were closed or restricted during COVID. And those experiences need accessories. Luggage, outfits, makeup, sneakers, etc. We're tired of sweats, hoodies, and takeout. People are ready to clean up and crawl out of the gutter. They want to bring joy back in their lives, and they are willing to pay for it.

A brief narrative surrounding a personal crusade to capture architectural photographs of Paramount at Miami World Center

I have a love/hate relationship with social media. That’s been covered quite extensively. It isn’t an exclusive conflict. I am definitely not alone. If I was sane and not a glutton for punishment, I’d have chosen a more traditional career path:” a doctor, an accountant, or a lumberjack, and I’d likely never touch a social media app other than maybe LinkedIn. I would be proud of my screen time metrics instead of willfully ignorant to avoid the shame. But as an architectural photographer, I qualify as a “creative professional” and therefore am required to be a bit of a narcissist. People only hire those they know, which means I have to be noticed, and the only way to be noticed is to constantly remind others that I exist. I am new to Los Angeles, and the competition is brutal, so I might have to die in front of my own reflection for my own little star to shine.

I moved to Los Angeles to expand my architectural photography business after ten years in Miami. Click here to read my thoughts behind the process and get an insight into my first shoot there. I look forward to updating this blog with strategies and progress as I document my efforts for a fresh start.

This is the final portion of a three-part series documenting the negative impact social media and smartphone addiction have created in my life, the temporary break I took from both, and the lessons I learned. Told from the perspective of a Los Angeles-based architectural photographer. Please refer to part 1 or part 2 if you’ve landed here first.

This article is the second of a three-part series documenting the negative impact social media and smartphone addiction have created in my life, the temporary break I took from both, and the lessons I learned. It’s told from an architectural photographer’s love/hate perspective with social media.

This article is the first of a three-part series documenting the negative effects social media and smartphone addiction has had on my mental health, my attempts to wean myself off of them, and the lessons I learned along the way. It is told from the perspective of a Los Angeles based architectural photographer who has a love/hate relationship with the platforms I find them necessary for work, but acknowledge that they decrease my productivity and leave me feeling anxious, depressed, and defeated.

1111 Lincoln Road is one of the earliest contributions to Miami’s recent surge in cultural relevance. It was built in 2010 and designed by renowned architects Jacques Herzog & Pierre De Meuron with landscape architecture provided by Raymond Jungles, and was intended to revitalize the western part of Miami Beach’s historic Lincoln Road as a hub for retail and office space. It defies the traditional definitions of parking structures by unapologetically shedding its walls and dissolving the barriers between the interior and exterior. This freedom is enhanced by the intentional use of thin, steel handrails instead of walls or thick barricades on the edges, which would have reduced the amount of open air. Cars have but little bumpers on the floors to prevent them from getting too close to the edge.

I’ve been photographing the architecture in South Florida non-stop for the better part of three years either through commissions or my own general obsessions, and while there is still a ton left to shoot (or re-shoot), I wanted to take this time to reflect on it all and share my personal favorite buildings that photographed to date. Although judging by the amount of cranes dotting the skyline these days, my gut tells me I’ll be remaking this list more than once. So consider this “part one.” This list is accompanied by relevant architecture photos I’ve taken over the last couple of years.

A few months ago I had the pleasure of taking on a really cool assignment that was the first of its kind for me: Shooting the interiors of a brand new cruise ship. In this case, the Norwegian Bliss. This is Norwegian’s flagship, and from my personal experience, it lives up to the hype. I mean, it’s got a multilevel go-kart track for chrissake! It goes without saying, but this was a great opportunity that I am quite grateful for.  (I also got to sail through the Panama Canal, which by itself was a hell of an experience I can't recommend enough).

2018 has been the year of new career experiences. I’ve shot a farm, a cruise ship, and most recently a set of train stations for GoBrightline, South Florida’s newest intercity high-speed rail train. In this article I cover the thought and process of an architecture photography shoot that I am truly grateful to have been a part of.