Introducing Ellie

The Photographer Who Helped Me Find Myself Again

The year: 2023. It was a rough one for me. The worst year of my life thus far. I didn't want to give up on myself, but I also knew I would rather not have existed for a while. It was the year that I lost it all, my fiance, my home, my dog, my sister...and more. And in the middle of all that, I sat in my expensive office space every day for a year, surrounded by hundreds of cameras, vintage and modern, like it was some kind of cruel joke. Here I was, a portrait photographer and I didn’t want to take a single shot of anyone, but then Ellie showed up. Speaking of shots...she was like a shot of vodka after six months of sobriety: too strong, a little reckless, but somehow exactly what I needed.

By this time I was working part time at the camera store downtown (she'd end up working there too later). I just knew I couldn't be in my office all the time anymore. I needed to be around people. One morning, Ellie waltzed in, a whirlwind of youthful energy, ready to drop off some film for developing. And me, ever the professional (or whatever I call myself), greeted her with my usual brand of dry humor and self-inflicted sarcasm.

I've met hundreds of photographers in my time. Newbies, grizzled veterans, artists, clout chasers, technical, creative...all sorts. But I've only met one Ellie. She was someone new and, in a city where I know most of the regulars who drop off film, that intrigued me. I asked about her and her work and she showed me. When I say "I had never seen work like hers before" I mean it. Mostly because she was shooting things I had zero interest in. Her work was all motorsports and, even now, I have less driving time under my belt than some feature length films. I've just never been a car guy, especially as someone who's lived and existed in some of the big East Coast cities like NYC, Philly and DC. Cars aren't as fun as the subway. Sure, cars have speed and danger but subways have the occasional stabbing and endless people watching. Fun!

She was still kind of new to shooting on film, but I asked about her digital camera. She told me she had a Nikon D3100, an entry level camera that was over a decade old already. It actually surprised me because I felt like she'd be fighting her camera to get shots like she was getting. But there was something in her work. Something raw, something real, something that cut through the bullshit like a hot knife through butter.

Now, here’s the thing about Ellie: she’s the opposite of every other beginner photographer I’ve met in my life. Most creatives spend years fumbling around, trying to figure out their style, shooting everything in sight, hoping something will stick. But Ellie, even as a newer photographer, had a sense of who she was. She wasn’t trying to find herself; she was already there, kicking ass and taking names. And me? Well, I was stuck in some pit of self-doubt, surrounded by a mountain of old photos and a camera that felt like a relic of a life I’d long since abandoned.

It didn’t come back all at once, my confidence. No fanfare, no triumphant montage. Just a slow, awkward crawl out of the wreckage. A flicker of something like hope. A weak little flame that refused to go out. One day, I posted on social media about wanting to refresh my portfolio, to take some headshots that didn’t look like corporate nonsense. Ellie was the only one who bit. And so, we scheduled a shoot and met up.

Let me tell you, after nearly two years of friendship, it wasn’t just about the photographs. It was about rediscovering the part of me that had been buried under the weight of a thousand bad decisions and broken dreams. It was about seeing Ellie pour herself into her craft, her raw energy, and her stubborn insistence on doing things her way. She reminded me of who I used to be, a photographer without the baggage, without the burnout, without the heartbreak. Just a guy with a camera and a world to explore.

And she did it the way all the best people do. Not with grand gestures, not with dramatic speeches, but with small, quiet acts of kindness. The kind that don’t demand attention. The kind that sneak up on you and save your life when you’re not looking.



Ellie did small things. But she did them with great love. And that love did something to me. It made me softer. It made me braver. It made me want to give it back tenfold, a hundredfold. Because that’s the thing about kindness...it multiplies. It expands. It takes root in the cracks and pushes back against the dark. And I want to plant it everywhere. I want it to take over. Because at the end of the day, kindness is the only thing that’s ever really mattered.

So there you have it, dear reader. If our paths ever cross, if I ever have the distinct pleasure of working with you, reconnecting you with the beauty you've always had, do me a favor...raise a glass to Ellie too. She saw me when I was lost. She reminded me that stories don’t end just because a chapter is dark. And now? Now I get to do the same for you. Because that’s how it works, isn’t it? We save each other, one small kindness at a time.

-Marvin