My chest tightened as I forced out excruciating wails, one after the other, in feeble attempts to breathe. Tears of frustration rolled down my face, blurring the sight of teammates and coaches staring at me, as I fumbled for my inhaler near the edge of the mat. Still hyperventilating, I mentally prepared myself for the behind-the-back whispers. “She shouldn’t be here.” In ninth grade, I joined the wrestling team as an asthmatic fourteen-year-old with no previous experience. Although the sport presented me with both physical and mental obstacles, I found ways to remain patient and determined. In the beginning, I spent weeks asking teammates for help with basic moves, and I floundered against offense-minded opponents. However, I turned my limitations into motivators, not complaints, and by observing wrestlers with body types similar to mine, I learned to recognize my advantages. I noticed my long arms would help me hone hand placement while my flexibility would prevent me from being pinned. Despite my improvements, a part of me still feared the attention that came with being one of only three girls on the team. Nevertheless, on days when the other girls were absent, I showed up to practice with diligence and enthusiasm, even though those moments felt the loneliest. My coaches told me that by exhibiting a genuine desire to be at practice, I spurred on my teammates. I realized I did not have to be a champion to be a leader. During my journey as a wrestler, I learned to see asthma attacks, difficult matches, and unsolicited critiques as reminders that success is defined by more than the scoreboard. The challenges I faced were opportunities to lead by example — chances to inspire my peers and another generation of young women to break societal boundaries and pursue higher ambitions.

Food photography is about telling a story. When devising a plot, I first consider the main character, whether it be a rustic pie or an elegant croquembouche. I then spend hours scouring antique stores for side characters such as scalloped plates and copper silverware, each with their own individual charm. Finally, I consider the direction of lines, the framing, and the intensity of light entering the scene. My job is to break down the barrier between the actual and the abstract, leading viewers to imagine themselves as guests at a 1900s tea party or as old friends having supper at a lakeside cottage. When I first started photographing food, I was preoccupied with learning as many rules as possible. I taught myself the rule of baroque diagonals, the rule of geometric repetition, and the rule of triangular movement. However, I quickly realized that knowing when to break the rules separates good food photography from outstanding food photography. Stepping outside my comfort zone, I experimented with harsh highlights, sharp shadows, and atypical angles. As my style matured, the stories I envisioned were more easily captured and experienced. My experimentation with food photography taught me to go against precedents and appreciate the unconventional. In comparing my current works to previous ones, I realize even talented artists like myself are useless when bound by the restraints of close-mindedness. Trying to adhere to compositional rules only hindered my ability to communicate through art. Food photography also allows me to decompress from the excitement of everyday life, releasing my mind to unwind and become entangled in a realm of mini-narratives. For a moment, all that matters is the scene set within the frame of the viewfinder. As a creator, I have learned how to anchor myself amidst a hectic world and pursue unfamiliarity through creativity.