I photograph and design elopements in Switzerland, the Dolomites, and Iceland, and document micro-weddings across Switzerland, Italy, and wider Europe. I've lived in six European countries - the Netherlands, Switzerland, France, Spain, Italy, Malta. I got used to arriving somewhere new, figuring it out quickly, communicating across languages and cultures. It became normal. Speaking six languages - Dutch, English, and Spanish fluently, with working German, French, and Italian - matters when arranging private field access with a Swiss farmer or working with a restaurant owner in Tuscany. Nothing gets lost in translation. My father was an artist. I grew up between galleries and mountains, and learned composition young. These landscapes aren't places I visit. They're places I've lived in. I only work with ten couples a year to ensure full attention for every experience.

My work sits between documentary and editorial: close enough to stay with what is real, considered enough to shape it into something worth returning to. Bright days come out bright. The colors you see are the colors that were present. When I shoot in black and white, it's because something in the frame asks for it - the scale of the landscape or the texture of a moment. Not a mood applied on top. A different way of seeing what was real. It's better photography when someone knows the place - which direction the light comes from, which fields are private and how to get access, how a Tuscan afternoon differs from an alpine morning. Experience design removes the guesswork so the real moments can happen. And those are what I'm there to photograph.

Before this, I worked as an art mediator in the Netherlands - presenting artists' work, organizing exhibitions. After my father passed away, helping present his work felt meaningful, but the pull to create something of my own was strong. Family photography came first. Then my sister's wedding photographer didn't show up. Covering her getting ready, the first look, and the ceremony shifted something. Large destination weddings came next, alongside elopements. The same pattern kept showing up: at weddings, couples were hosting, managing everyone else's needs. At smaller micro-weddings and elopements, they were just there. That's what drew me in. My husband and I eloped in Sedona with only a photographer present. We didn't exchange rings - we chose two sculptures of Persian dancers made by a Kurdish artist who'd become like family. Standing in the red rocks with no one around, my husband told me everything. He's not a man of many words, but that day, he said all of it.

No long email chains or PDF planning documents. When something needs explaining - a location, how a day might unfold, what to expect when weather shifts - I record a video instead. Usually with a map or photos on screen. A few minutes where you can hear the thinking out loud. Couples tell me those videos are when it starts to feel real. Watch when you have time, wherever you are. Some couples reach out when something sparks a question. Others prefer to talk things through as we go - entire elopements have been shaped over calls across time zones at odd hours. Either works. I ask detailed questions early on about the landscapes you're drawn to, the pace you want, how private or adventurous the day should feel. By the time you arrive, the only thing left to do is be there.

Hearing someone say their elopement or micro-wedding was everything they dreamed of - and that the photos take them back to that moment so easily. The recognition has meant something too: judging the Elopement Photography Awards in 2026, Junebug's Best of the Best in 2024 and 2025, six elopement photography wins. But the work I'm most proud of is in the images themselves, that they carry the essence of what really happened.

A couple came to the Dolomites for a vow renewal. She's a photographer herself, so she understood what goes into a day like this. They'd had a traditional church wedding years earlier with scripted vows and had never spoken words of their own choosing to each other. They wanted that. They landed in Italy with their wedding attire and no luggage - hiking gear lost in transit. Instead of rushing into the mountains, they stayed near the airport, adjusted with grace. By morning the bags arrived. We'd planned for Seceda, but summer heat made that hike too exposed. I suggested Cadini di Misurina instead - less crowded, better for the temperature, dramatic limestone without the tourist traffic. They were up for it. We started with a first look high above the valleys. Before the ceremony, they sat at Lake Braies and wrote down the vows they'd never had the chance to speak. They read them to each other with all the emotions felt hands. As the sun dropped, we hiked toward Cadini to catch the last light. At twilight, they lit lanterns. That's the kind of couple I work best with. Flexible, present, up for what the day actually offers.

Yes. Payment is split across several installments between booking and your date: a non-refundable retainer when you sign, a second installment about a month later, a third around three months before your date, and the final payment on the day. The schedule can be adjusted based on your timeline.

The variety. One week, hiking to a mountain lake at sunrise with a couple who trained for months to get there. The next, a picnic in a meadow for two people who want nothing more than to sit in warm grass. Then a helicopter landing on a glacier, a boat ceremony on a turquoise lake, dancing under stars at midnight. What gets me every time is when everything clicks - the light is right, the couple stops thinking about the camera, and the day reveals something neither of us saw coming. That moment when someone exhales and you can see it: this is exactly where I want to be. That never gets old.

Surselva and the Aletsch region of Switzerland. Surselva is where my father painted - the valleys and ruins I spent time in as a child, and where my family spent the summer of 2025. The Aletsch region is where we lived in 2024, in a cabin with no road access just under the Eggishorn. Both are as beautiful as Grindelwald, Lauterbrunnen, or Zermatt - but quieter, less visited. I know which trails stay empty, where the light does something special, how the valleys shift through the seasons. I want to bring couples to the landscapes that shaped me.