Back to Blogging and the resurrection.
Here we are again—fast forward twenty years from when I had a Blogspot account and posted pictures with cryptic captions. It was my first creative outlet, long before Instagram (or god forbid, Flickr) was a thing. Facebook had just kicked off back then, the original home of “photo dumps”—and by that I mean 219 unedited, unapproved-by-friends batch uploads of your night out, your birthday, or just a RaNdom 2018 album. The unserious days, when we didn’t take photos—or ourselves—too seriously.
I’ve always been the girl with the camera. Probably quirkily exasperating at the time, but eventually people started asking if I could take their portrait, or saying “Give the camera to Emma” in group scenarios. Figuring out, something must have been going right.
My first camera came in the most memorable way: I was about seven, staring at a white-and-orange cow-print 35mm through a shop window in the early ’90s. My mother promised she’d buy it… if I stopped scratching my eczema.
Ok so metaphorically, I got the itch for photography instead. From that moment, I began capturing my little world, noticing details, giving shape to my silences and essentially playing with a more interesting toy.
In the early 2000s, Poundland sold disposable cameras—and you guessed it for a pound. I’d send them off in the post to be processed, sometimes waiting weeks for that glossy paper envelope to arrive. At 13, there was nothing more thrilling than having post and unwrapping those forgotten, impulsive, high-energy moments. Time travel in 5x4 prints. It was feeling of being able to transport back to relive the emotions. The funny, the sad, all relived.
Thus, photography became my quiet obsession. BUT, It weighed down my pocket money, so I started perfecting those few extra seconds before pressing the shutter, chasing that “sweet moment.” I was an undiagnosed dyslexic and a full-time creative dreamer, so academia never really fit me. Eventually, I stepped into the programmed process of art school—partaking in art medium rituals, showcasing for approval from ex-artists posing as tired tutors, and of course experiencing the awkward little exercises in “textures” and “mixed media.”
Since then, it’s been a lifetime of learning, experimenting, and discovering myself through the lens. My path has been eventful—early highs in my first years at University having my work on posters all around the city of Leeds on a monthly basis in collaboration of promoting an infamous club night, to working with and being published in places like VICE and DAZED, to exhibiting and producing work internationally.
Then, a few years later, a tragic event in my mid-twenties broke my heart and subsequently my faith in my own art. So, I had a temporary breakup with photography. I put the commercial work on hold and found myself wondering for a while, which door to open next. That’s when a door opened into the world of production at Stella McCartney in London—a chapter I moved through until I realised that organising photoshoots and carrying heavy responsibility didn’t quite have the same kick as life behind the lens.
Soon after, I closed my time in London and took the opportunity to move to LA. Even then, whether behind the scenes or on the road, I always carried a camera—I just chose to share those moments far more sparingly. Following life’s callings like this, I’ve found myself travelling across the USA and Europe for the last decade, while temporarily putting down roots in places like Portugal, Ibiza, and Andorra. Reclaiming the years that were stolen from me in my twenties.
Spoiler alert: this is my resurrection.
My story is an ongoing one, and here I’m back and to document it — for my words to now match the visions.
So, welcome to the journey (and thank you if your attention span got you this far). Pull up a chair, scroll through the stories, and see the world with me. Along the way, expect unexpected adventures, reflections, and moments that make you stop to appreciate the ordinary in a new light.
E x
