I remember the moment I knew I wanted to be a photographer. On the Friday morning of Spirit Week in the Fall of my Junior year, the Seniors, dressed in red, met in the quad and started chanting. The blue-clad Juniors marched up the main student entrance to meet the Seniors. The two sides faced each other, Red vs. Blue, in the whitest, most suburban version of a color war, when someone threw a water bottle across the crowd and set off the mob.

And I was in the middle of it.

As Editor-in-Chief of the yearbook staff, I volunteered to take photos of the event that morning. In that moment, I fell in love with the rush that comes with being amidst that collective energy and being almost invisible to the crowd as I took pictures of the chanting and screaming teens.

I only get that feeling when I’m photographing people. The energy exchange between subject and shooter drives my vision and excites me in a way that nothing else does. Whether I’m photographing others, standing on the sidelines, or even trying to see myself in new wayspeople are what I seek out at the end of the day.