If you had told me back when I was wrenching on a racecar in my parents’ garage that I’d end up making a career out of photography and filmmaking, I wouldn’t have believed you. At the time, my focus was simple: build the car, make it fast, and figure out how to actually afford to drive it. Cameras weren’t even on my radar—it was just something that happened along the way. But looking back now, it’s clear that every decision, every shift in direction, was leading me here. I just didn’t realize it at the time.
I got into photography out of necessity. I was building a racecar in my parents’ garage, and my friends would come over, hang out, and snap some photos for me. This was before social media, back when internet forums were the go-to place to share progress and learn. I was active in those forums, soaking up every bit of knowledge I could. But late at night, when I was working solo—pulling my 2nd engine—I wished I had a way to document it myself.
One night, I remember thinking: I’m investing so much time and money into this car. Why don’t I just buy a camera and learn how to use it, so I don’t have to rely on anyone else? A life lesson I would later take into the mountains and onto expeditions.
That’s what got me into photography—not an artistic pursuit or a passion for storytelling, just pure necessity.
As the car became more serious—roll cage, racing seats, turning it into a track-only build—I realized something: driving a racecar for fun is stupid expensive. Not only did I need money for spare parts and track time, but I also needed a truck, a trailer, gas, and entry fees. And while I was working as a lifeguard and at the Apple Store while attending community college, I knew it wasn’t going to be enough.
That’s when my parents sat me down for a reality check. If I wanted to keep chasing racing, I’d be juggling multiple jobs for a long time. The alternative? They suggested I go to a four-year college, get a degree, with the goal of landing a higher-paying career that could afford racing.
At first, I settled on Sac State, mostly because it was close enough to Lake Tahoe so that I could snowboard on the weekends. But after some convincing, I applied to Sierra Nevada College in Lake Tahoe—figuring that if I was going to be spending my money snowboarding anyway, I might as well just live there.
Once I got to SNC, I had to choose a major. I liked cameras. I liked snowboarding. And I needed to make money. Business Management & Digital Arts felt like the best combination of those things. So I literally just picked.
Then, in one of my early photography classes, I shot a 4x5 black-and-white film camera at Sand Harbor. The process was pretty annoying to be honest. It was clunky, gigantic, difficult to move, challenging to setup and slow. When I developed the film and saw the image through the projector, something clicked. It wasn’t just about documenting things anymore. I was hooked on showing beauty in otherwise everyday things. Something I had been looking at for months suddenly became 10x more pretty while the chemicals developed my first print. Over a decade later that photo is burned into my brain....maybe the chemicals had something to do with that tho hahahaha!
From that moment on, I spent every chance I had out shooting—sunsets, sunrises, hiking to remote spots just to capture an image. The same obsessive energy I put into racing now went into photography. At the time, I didn’t have a purpose or real goal other than just to create because I loved it. But looking back, I think I was drawn to photography for the same reasons I loved racing—chasing perfection, dialing in details, and the thrill of capturing something exactly right.
During my last year at SNC, someone sent me a job posting for a $20/hr part-time video editing internship. I figured I’d give it a shot. I sent in a few school projects, landed an interview, and met NY Times Bestselling Author - Brandon Webb at a restaurant.
The moment I sat down, he had a beer in front of him and asked what I wanted to drink. I said, "I’ll have what you’re having." That was it—we clicked instantly. The conversation felt more like talking to an old friend than a job interview. In fact I definitely blurred the lines pretty quickly.
Years later, I realized something: he wasn’t hiring me for my technical skills behind a computer or a camera—he was hiring me based on how I carried myself in that moment and around people I didn't know. That lesson stuck with me, and to this day, it’s how I approach hiring people myself. I remember when I hired someone for the first time, I asked Austin: "Can you party all night and wake-up at 6am ready to rock without any issues?" He said yes, we've been friends ever since.
I got the job. One week later, I was flown to Las Vegas to film a multi-camera TV show for Brandon’s company, SOFREP. It was my first real professional gig, and I had no idea what I was doing. I had to rent gear, set up lights, mic four Special Operations veterans, and edit five hours of conversation about some really heavy topics. The show was called Inside The Team Room, and over the next few years, I’d go on to film and edit a ton of these episodes all over the world with all walks of life.
At this point, I was still a full-time college student, working full-time, and still lifeguarding on the side, drinking IPAs and honey whiskey with my roommates, trying to balance it all. It was chaotic, but I was doing exactly what I wanted to do.
During my senior year, I was offered a huge opportunity: fly to Poland to film the Polish GROM, their special forces unit. There was only one problem—I’d have to miss all but one of my finals.
None of my professors were on board with this idea. I understood why. But I also knew this was the exact kind of opportunity college was supposed to prepare me for. So I went straight to the dean and my counselor, laid out my plan, and told them why this was the right move for me.
To my surprise, they agreed with me.
I skipped my finals, flew to Poland, and locked in a full-time job as the Media Director for SOFREP before I even graduated.
That decision wasn’t just about skipping finals. It was about choosing the career I wanted over the safe path. And it worked. Poland cemented what I already knew—I was all in.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back, that entire experience was the perfect example of something Jimmy Chin, whose work now inspires me, has said: "Commit and then figure it out." I had no idea what I was doing when I walked into that first SOFREP shoot. I had no experience running a four-camera setup. I had never been on any production like that. But I committed. I showed up, put myself in a high-pressure situation, and figured it out. Something I think is ingrained deep into the special forces community.
That mindset—being willing to take the leap even before I felt ready—has shaped my career ever since.
For the next six years, I worked at SOFREP, which later became Force 12 Media, before transitioning into full-time freelance filmmaking. The crazy thing? I never set out to make a career of this—I just wanted better photos of my racecar. But looking back, every decision, every shift in direction was leading me here. Now, I shoot a ton of automotive work, something I never expected when I first picked up a camera. It all came full circle, and I can't wait to get back into my racecar.
More often than not, I don’t realize I’m on the right path until I’m already walking it.
