The story behind Burning Moth has been a long time in the making- a journey that mirrors my evolution, both personally and creatively. My love for photography began long before I could even articulate it. My grandfather gifted both me and my grandmother a pink and blue Sony point-and-shoot camera when I was a child. I can't recall my exact age, but every year since then has been a step in building the foundation of my creative vision. Growing up in Oklahoma, I photographed everything I could: the clouds, mushrooms in the creek, the feral cats that would always show up on the property, my childhood pets Sara and Cain, our horses Spanky, Sugar and Buck and countless family moments. I even spent hours playing dress-up with my baby cousins, designing imaginative outfits, and staging little photoshoots around the property. Those moments taught me more than photography- they taught me patience, observation and the joy of storytelling through imagery.
When I turned 18 and moved out, I was eventually able to invest in a better camera a couple of years later and push my craft further. I photographed friends, strangers and the subtle details of life I found beautiful, all while trying to hone my artistic voice. But between 2018 and 2022, life threw me into some very difficult chapters. I navigated the complexities of relationships, questioned long-held beliefs, and lost faith in systems and people that no longer served me. Amid these trails, my camera was damaged in a series of moves. Losing it felt like losing a piece of myself.
Then came one winter's night that would change everything. A storm had coated everything in ice - the trees bent under its weight, power lines bowed and the world felt suspended in silence. With the power out, I lit 4 candles and stepped outside, bracing against the bitter chill. The world was quiet except for the groan of the ice-covered branches and the neighbor's frozen wind chime. In that stillness, a profound calm washed over me. I was filled with warmth, joy and serenity. I returned indoors not knowing how long I had been outside. I lit another candle and placed it in the center of of the other candles which happened to be in the lap of my friend's Buddha statue, for a bit more light and sat by my friend at the fireplace. I heard a crackle and turned just in time to see a moth had caught fire in one of the candles, its small body burning brighter than the wick itself. Since the wax was melting at a much quicker rate than the wick could burn, the wick was submerged and extinguished, and we watched in awe as the moth slowly burnt its way through the entire candle. It was mesmerizing, almost surreal- a fragile creature that refused to be extinguished. In that moment, I had an epiphany. The moth became a symbol of resilience, transformation, and illumination. Even in the midst of chaos and despair, beauty can emerge in the most unexpected ways. It reminded me that the struggles I had endured were not in vain - they had shaped me, honed my perspective, and led me to this point of clarity. From that night, Burning Moth was born - not just as a name, but as a philosophy. It represents the idea of being a beacon of light, even when the world feels cold or uncertain, and embracing the process of transformation, no matter how fragile or fleeting the moment may seem.
Today, Burning Moth is a testament to perseverance, creativity and finding light in the darkest moments. Every single image I capture, every piece of art I create, carries a piece of that moth's spirit: burning brightly, persistently, and beautifully, even in the face of life's inevitable storms. It's a reminder that our challenges don't define us. They illuminate us. I hope that moth knows the impact that it made on my life.
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