Forever

chasing

the light.

Hi! I'm Bethany, but my friends call me B 👋🏻

I have been interested in photography for as long as I can remember. My mom gave me my first camera (A Polaroid, because 80’s baby!) for Christmas when I was 4 years old, and I remember going outside to photograph the sky - a little foreshadowing perhaps? I quickly became the friend that always had a camera, and when the time came I went to the University of Oklahoma (Boomer!) where I majored in Journalism with a focus in Advertising. In my senior year I had one elective left, so I took a black and white film photography class. This class made me see that my interest in photography was deeper than I even realized. I was on my way to law school when I decided I couldn’t resist pursuing photography, and the rest is history.

I never anticipated others would be interested in the images I capture while on evening drives chasing the sun or exploring new cultures - It makes me so happy to know that my photos are bringing smiles to other's faces, and finding homes on beautiful walls across the world.

I shoot both film and digital photography, but medium format film is where my heart thrives. Most of the prints you’ll find here were created with it, because it’s my favorite way to capture the world. You only get a handful of frames, so I'm forced to slow down, breathe it in, and become very thoughtful.

Shooting film is painting with light. It’s not instant. It’s not easy. It’s magic.

Don’t get me wrong—I love digital, too, and you’ll find many digital photography prints in my shop. It’s crisp, vibrant, and incredibly versatile. But film brings texture, softness, and depth.

A large film print won’t look like a digital one—and it’s not meant to. Film holds detail differently. It has grain instead of pixels, tone instead of punch. If digital is like seeing the world through a crystal-clear window, film is like standing in the moment with the breeze on your skin.

I don’t always take the photo the first time I see the scene. Sometimes I’ll notice a spot—a stretch of land, a quiet corner, the way a shadow falls—and I’ll tuck it away in my mind like a mood board I’m building in real life. I’ll wait weeks, sometimes months, for the weather to change, for the light to move the right way, for the world to align with the image I’ve been slowly constructing in my head.

It’s not about perfection—it’s about possibility. About being patient with the environment and giving space for something real to emerge. I don’t stage scenes or add light where it doesn’t belong. I want the moment to belong to itself, to feel like something you stumbled into at just the right time.

That’s the magic of film for me. It forces me to slow down, pay attention, and trust that the image I’m waiting for is on its way—even if it takes a while to show up.

When I’m traveling, I’ll be honest—I spend an almost embarrassing amount of time researching spots to photograph. I’ll dig through old blog posts, satellite images, weather patterns, and niche message boards just to find the quiet corners and golden-hour gems in the area I’m headed to. It’s part detective work, part daydreaming.

But the truth is, the more I plan before I leave, the more present I can be once I’m actually there. All that prep clears space for me to just be on the road—attuned, curious, and wide open to the surprises that always end up being the best part. I know what I think I’m looking for, but I’m never married to the plan. The detours are just as sacred.

That balance between intention and openness—that’s where the magic lives. And that’s what I try to carry into every photo I take.