The “Professional.”

I don’t own a lens cap, but this thang goes everywhere with me.

What photographer doesn’t own a lens cap? I mean, jeez – I don’t think I even have one in my kit. Last week, when I flew to Chicago, I had my Nikon in my carry-on backpack, and in a moment of TSA Agent-induced panic, I pulled an ankle sock over my Tamron lens to keep it scratch-free.

Flying by the seat of my pants when it comes to my snap hobby isn’t something new. I’m a relatively green photographer – as in, I’m 25 and haven’t lived enough to have gottenĀ that kind of experience – and so usually improvisation is key. I started shooting when I was sixteen, hired by a fearless leader and industry expert, to work as an assistant wedding photographer in Memphis, TN. He taught me the technical basics. I had an eye but didn’t even know how to switch a lens off a body, much less set up a light kit. Fast forward six years, and I picked up a camera again to try to dust off the idea that maybe I needed a hobby to offset all the partying I had done at the University of Tennessee.

Now, at 25, and living in Nashville, I’ve found myself submerged in an opaque, terrifying ink pool of musicians, models, influencers, mommy bloggers, makeup artists, and the like – all with a need to drink the Content Creator kool-aid. I don’t know how I ended up here, and when exactly I started thinking I was a professional, but I’m here. And I’m working.

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