Preparation is everything

When I started medical school I assumed that surgeons spent the majority of their time operating. The operation is actually the last act of a long line of work. It starts with explaining things in detail to patients, talking to family members on the phone, and choosing the right operation for the right person. But, there are also a number of nuances for every operation, and when things go really smoothly, the plans were thought through. These are things that I also didn’t think about until becoming an attending - which facility am I going to, will all of the equipment be there, do I need a device rep present, do I need a partner present, am I doing this open or robotically, and the list goes on. Imagine that an operation is a jenga block tower, and it feels like the hospital and insurance powers that be are conspiring to remove blocks from the bottom every time that you turn away. Every shoot likewise is 90% preparation and setting expectations, and the day of has always been the easy part to me.

Anyone can operate

I truly believe this - anyone can operate. We can teach a 10 year old to operate. What’s really hard is learning when to operate. There are a thousand grey areas before, during, and after an operation, and what separates an ok surgeon from a great one is how they make decisions. I feel very similarly about shooting photos. I think that so much attention is paid to gear and nearly all of that attention should go to how we see light and composition. The exposure triangle and pressing a shutter is easy. Where it gets more challenging (and fun) is finding what makes an image compelling. Should I turn my subject a certain way in relation to the light? How can I add depth to the foreground of an image? How will the sun look at this hour? All of these things are decisions that shape up an image.

Conditions can be wildly bad

There are some operations where I have lost years of my life. Many operations are straightforward. Then there are abdomens where I spent hours dissecting through scar tissue, anatomy was complex from multiple prior operations, or patients were critically ill to start with. Every single surgeon has encountered cases where they want to sit down and hug their mom. And they got through it. I like having a job where there’s a timeline, and it’s in front of me. We have to deliver a product with our hands. There’s no taking a break for lunch and then coming back. All of this directly translated to shooting outdoors. I discovered a lot of curveballs, and I’m sure there will be more. Changes to weather, choppy ocean conditions, client issues. I had already lived out in really high stakes that all we can do is our best in any given circumstance.

Becoming someone new

I haven’t met too many other people on the healthcare worker to artist pathway (and would love to!!). This is part of something bigger than photography - it’s becoming someone new. Becoming someone new rarely looks like stories I hear about my fellow doctors.

Sometimes, people start doing something when they are six years old. Then they get really, really good at it and rise to an elite level when they are fifteen. This is not one of those stories, and for many people, finding what they love doesn’t take that shape. In fact, after diving into the worlds of photography and portfolio careers, I’d say that the path is rarely straight. It can look like a wiggle or a giant maze. That’s also when things get interesting.

What’s most compelling to me is people who started a new path when the path wasn’t clear at all for where they were. One of my friends started an online coaching business. Another is learning to swim. Another left surgery to open a brick and mortar store. A common thought among us is “should this have been done ten years ago?” The answer is no, because it wasn’t the right time. And all that time in between makes for a unique way of approaching a craft. What does the surgeon to surf photographer portfolio career look like? As far as I can tell, it doesn’t really exist yet.

This past spring I returned to Philadelphia for a friend’s wedding. A couple of weeks out I messaged two of my oldest friends Christine and Amanda to shoot in their homes, which got a big fat YES. Here are some of my favorite images, and I’m going to recap how we set this up.

First, a note. My feed has recently been flooded with pictures from the Mediterranean. They’re beautiful, and at the same time the most photogenic thing for any of us to shoot is what we love the most. That may be vacation! For me it’s the people who I’ve known for a long time. I lived in Philadelphia for a formative decade, and for the rest of my life, whenever people ask me where I’m from, Philly will still likely be the answer. It was a joy to be back.

It was actually Christine’s sister Laura, one of my closest friends, who suggested doing architectural-digest style photos of them. Amanda and Christine are both architects, and so is Christine’s fiancee Reid. Two houses, three architects. These houses are the opposite of sterile. They have character and personality and details that make for a real story.

I also went through a number of home shoots from Architectural Digest and compiled my favorite ones into a deck. Here’s one of the slides:

I’ve also followed a talented Philadelphia photographer named Kelly Levin, who shoots many families at home Here’s another of the slides:

From these I had a rough shot list of what to go in with, with plenty of room for other moments that came up:

• Close up of houseware

• Moving houseware

• Sitting at the dining table

• Sitting on the couch

• Wide view of living window

• On stairs looking down

• Working in office

• Leaning in hallway

• Sitting in outdoor space

• Holding cat

The first night I got in to the city, I went to Christine’s house. The timing worked out, as I knew that this home would photography beautifully in the evening. They’ve put so much thought into their lighting fixtures and warmth.

A little fun aside - Christine’s home is where I shot a a photo from my first ever roll of film in 2023:

Walking into this home instantly reduced my blood pressure by 20 points. It’s so warm and calm, and it also reflects all of the things they love - good design, hiking, camping, and of course Philadelphia. Peep their cute kitty further down.

We stepped into their outdoor space. Dusk was too far along to take photos outside, but I had them sit just inside their back window. I somewhat creepily shot in through the window and we got my favorite from the night:

I also brought Portra 800 film and shot a roll here. As you can imagine I kept it wide open with f/1.4 and a very slow 1/15 to 1/30 shutter speed at this time of day:

I stayed with Amanda over the visit weekend. Her home is one of my favorite places - hanging out was one of the highlights of my residency. Here’s a photo from back in the day :)

This girl can DIY anything. She did the flooring, wall remodel, toilet installation, and wallpapering of her laundry room. There are 5 projects going on at all times. Home reno is my personal nightmare and I will be contacting Amanda HQ for any remodel in the future.

For this shoot I wanted to get a lot of focused shots on her finds and wider ones of her sitting on the furniture. I could spend hours days cataloging all of Amanda’s handmade furniture, travel souvenirs, and photos.

Please be my interior designer in the future! It was so fun to shoot. Amanda also taught me how to load film, so naturally we shot film here as well. More Portra 800, which is perfect for the indoors:

If anyone is looking for something to practice, or really just to get back a creative spark, my suggestion is to start with your friends. You literally don’t have to leave the house!! But still have all of the exercises of preparing a shot list, posing people (they’re more comfortable since they know you), and having something to give as a one-of-a-kind present for letting you stay with them ;)

See you back in the fall for the wedding! I can’t wait.

For me, that moment came when I photographed two of my friends in Morro Bay. I’d planned all the poses and walked them through all of the spots on the beach, as it was an area I’d visited many times before and knew well. As I was editing the gallery, I thought: I could really do this.

Since then, I’ve shot at Morro Bay more than anywhere else (and it’s my go-to place to practice surfing). When couples come from out of town and ask for help choosing a location, it’s among my first recommendations. We’re absolutely spoiled for beautiful beaches here on the Central Coast, but this one has stayed at the top for me. Here are a couple reasons why:

The Rock is a backdrop that does a lot of heavy lifting
Morro Rock is the remnant of an ancient volcano, a volcanic plug, and it’s still the defining feature of Morro Bay. The rock shows up in a ton of the local advertising. I’ll usually shoot a few close-ups with couples in front of it, then walk back for wider frames that put people in scale of the entire rock. These are maternity photos I took for Sebastian and Julia last month (we also bonded over the fact that they’re from Texas and I lived there for a year!). We started this shoot with them walking on the beach with the rock in the background. In the last part of our shoot I guided them through several poses in front of the rock, and I ended with the entire rock as their backdrop.

No two corners look the same.
The rock itself is just the start. There are the waves, the dunes, and stacks that I use to frame people. Many beaches are almost entirely flat. The dunes are my favorite near the end of the day, when a lowering sun creates long wavy shadows. There's life in the background too: birds often fly overhead, and every once in a while, sea lions come out near the rock while we shoot. We usually head to the dunes mid-session for the sitting shots, then a walk back down toward the water when the light has changed.

Wind ends up being a feature
This area can be windy, and I recommend checking the forecast beforehand as much as checking for sun and rain. People should have an idea of what it’ll be like going in. I have found that movement is what makes a shoot feel real instead of stiff, and wind gives us that for free - hair moving, a dress catching the breeze, waves going behind you. I do recommend bringing a light jacket or sweater to throw on between takes, because the breeze can make things chilly.

Light is worth planning around
Morning is my favorite time, the lighting here is soft, even, and often pink-toned. At sunset, we get a warm yellow color and reflections off the water. Every time of year works here - in summer I bring couples out around 7 p.m., and in winter closer to 4 p.m. Any outdoor shoot means watching the weather, but we're lucky on this stretch of coast: it rarely rains, and unlike in Pismo (my home), there's far less chance of fog rolling in. If it's a morning session, I recommend getting coffee and a pastry at Scout in downtown Morro beforehand. For something closer and no-frills, La Parisienne is where I always stop for a baked good after surfing. If we're shooting in the evening, the food and the vibe at Beerwood afterward are great.

It's easy to get to, moonscape parking and all
Morro Rock is a huge, easy-to-find landmark with parking right beside it, and the beach is just a few steps down. Fair warning: the lot itself feels a little like driving on the moon, so take it slow. The first time I pulled in with my Corolla, I had some big questions. But that's the only catch. The harbor side is a lovely walk if you want to make a day of it, though most of my sessions run about an hour and I'd rather spend every minute of it right on the ocean. Because it's such a short walk from the car to the sand, I have most couples do the whole shoot barefoot. We move from water to dunes without anyone needing to worry about their shoes. I shoot barefoot myself (I got tired of hunting for mine afterward), and I think it just adds to the vibe.

I get out here to surf and photograph multiple times per week. This often involves packing my scrubs to get right to the hospital, or packing my camera in the morning and then driving up after clinic. No question that it’s worth it! Drop a message if you are ever planning to be in the area - I’m always looking to connect with other creatives.

I’ve had friends visit, and I’ve taken photos for clients coming from out of town. I started by writing down my recommendations for them, and after doing it several times I thought I’d put together a full itinerary. So here it is: four days on the Central Coast, stretching from the bottom of Big Sur down to Pismo Beach.

I’ll add that there are people who have been here much longer than me, and I’m certainly not the area expert. All of these are places I genuinely love and have brought my visiting friends to. When I moved, I intentionally chose a place that revolved around the ocean, the mountains, and surf. I’ve spent a lot of time in cities, and while I cherish that time, I wanted to spend mornings surfing and evenings at the beach with friends.

And so, this is four days in my home. I brought my Canon AE-1 with me everywhere this year, and every photo below was shot on film.

Day 1: Pismo Beach & Arroyo Grande

Morning. Surf at Pismo Beach. The waves just north of the pier tend to be the cleanest, but that’s also where it’s most crowded. I go to either the Addie Street sandbar or the Wadsworth Street entrance, as both tend to be a little more mellow. And I’ll add that “crowded” is relative here; this place has so much breathing room compared to other places in California.

After surfing, I like to get a breakfast sandwich from Grover Beach Sourdough and take it out to Pismo Pier, which looks out over the ocean and hills on both sides. If you’re a film photographer, bring your Gold 200.

Afternoon. A couple of options here:

• Do a pottery class at Grover Beach Pottery. I’ve taken several classes here - it’s a great neighborhood studio.

• Do a yoga class at Harmony House. The inside is like a wooden log cabin.

• Take a walk around Arroyo Grande Village. I’d get lunch at Lucca or Branch Street, and Mule Bakery has delicious baked goods

Arroyo Grande is a pretty rural community. When I first moved here and was driving back from the airport, I was surprised by how much farmland and how many ranches there were. I think this use of the land is so beautiful. I’ve taken photos at the Ocean Breeze Equestrian Center and Greener Pastures Farm Sanctuary. The women people who run these places have a deep respect for the land and are kind, gentle people.

Evening. I recommend Taqueria San Miguel on Grand Avenue. This place is fire and I go after work all the time. It’s a stand next to a laundromat. Then go to the Vons on Grand Ave and grab firewood, marshmallows, graham crackers, chocolate, and campfire sticks. Bring your tacos and some games down to Grover Beach, where fires are allowed. Park at Finn’s. I once saw a group of teenagers here playing Uno together over a fire, not a cell phone in sight. Something about that made me deeply happy.

Day 2: San Luis Obispo

This is where I do the majority of my day job.

Morning. Start with breakfast at Scout Coffee. There are several locations, but the one on Foothill is the largest. I get a latte and morning bun.

Then go for a morning hike. Hikes here range from gentle rolling hills to more strenuous climbs. My ankles are a disaster, so I personally like Short Hills. I’ve also hiked with my friend Shanise to Cerro Alto, which has incredible views at the top. Others that have been recommended to me: Bishop Peak, Madonna Mountain, and for something just about flat to run on, Laguna Lake.

After the hike, get ice cream at Splendor. I think I’m actually lactose intolerant, but this ice cream is so good that I’ve stocked up on Lactaid. The inside is a little retro, and I like it so much that next time I think I’m going to buy one of their t-shirts.

Then stroll around downtown. It’s super walkable, with a lot of little shops and restaurants to pop into. My personal favorite restaurants in the area are Condesa and Wren Provisions. For something more low-key, I love Shake Shake Noodle. My parents are both first-generation immigrants, and they approved of these noodles.

Afternoon. Get a drink at one of the wineries. So many options. My friends have recommended Daou, Tolosa, and Biddle Ranch. The photos below is from Wolff Vineyards, when there were sweet dogs up for adoption to walk around the vineyard with.

Evening. Bring a blanket and head up to Montaña de Oro. There are a lot of trails in this area. Spooner’s Cove is my favorite spot in the park, and there is parking nearby. I’d bring some wine (maybe from one of the vineyards you visited in the afternoon) and watch the sunset here. I’ve done a graduation shoot here at sunset, which was just stunning.

Day 3: Morro Bay & North County

Morro Bay isn’t where I live, but it’s my personal favorite place on the Central Coast. In another post, I’ll get into why I love surfing and shooting here so much. But to start off with - it’s a great spot for people at my intermediate level who are progressing, the rock is a beautiful backdrop, and I’ve never had a problem parking.

Morning. Surf at the rock and say hi to me if you see me in the water! I’ve been practicing shooting after work. After surfing, head north to Hidden Kitchen in Cayucos. If you’re there on a weekend, my friend Steph may be teaching yoga at Cayucos Yoga, which has a beautiful outlook of the ocean. Hidden Kitchen is often very busy, but the food is absolutely worth it — the blue corn waffles are 12 out of 10.

Afternoon. In the afternoon, I would continue north to Hearst Castle for an architectural tour. Shanise and I went on one after talking about it in our film class, and it really didn’t disappoint. The bus up goes through hills where zebras are also around (alas, none for our tour but a reason to go back). Afterwards I would head to get food at Sebastian’s. You can bring food next door to Heart winery, which looks out over the ocean. On the way up, stop at the Elephant Seal Vista Point and look out for baby seals.

Evening. You can book a sunset shoot with me. :) I’d end the day at Moonstone Beach in Cambria. I’ve made the drive on several weekdays after work, because this beach in particular feels so rugged and free to me.

Day 4: Land or Sea

Two options for a last day, depending on whether you’d rather be on the water or in the mountains.

Ocean

Start the day at Shell Beach. This is another great spot for surfing, with rock formations in the background. I park at the Beachcomber stairs and take them down. People are friendly here from my experience, and I often chat with people in the water. This beach is also a fantastic spot for photo shoots.

In the late morning or afternoon, I’d recommend paddle boarding and renting from the locals at Avila Beach Paddlesports. The paddle takes you past a number of otters and seals out to a small beach, and from there it’s a short walk to a lighthouse. Quite the opposite of surfing - tranquil and a great way to relax while still being active.

Land

A second option which takes us further north to the end of Big Sur. After breakfast, drive up to Ragged Point. It has a cafe, a restaurant, and bathrooms on site. I’d hang out here for a bit because there’s a gorgeous vista over the mountains — weddings and engagements happen here too. We’ve taken the trail down from this vista to the ocean. One part is a little steep, but overall it’s short and doable, and there’s a small waterfall along the way.

Afterward, continue on to hiking at Salmon Creek Trail. Fun story: this is where I hiked with some of my most athletic coworkers (I’m looking at you, Mimi and Amy!), and one of my toenails turned black. BUT it was so much fun and the views were incredible.

If you do end up coming, shoot me a message! I’ve traveled the world and still think this home is one of the most special places out there.

I can’t emphasize this enough: I felt wildly unqualified to start, with no professional background. I’d shot film for fun for two years, the first of which was entirely on auto. So this isn’t really a story about how I got here in six months — it’s about how to be a beginner at something and make the most of that beautiful time.

1. I focused on one thing to get good at

I’m a professional list-maker and collector of hobbies. There’s a long list of things I’d like to do — get fluent in medical Spanish, learn classic calligraphy, cross-step surf — it could stretch for ten miles. Not every hobby needs to be monetized, but I explicitly wanted this one to be professional, and that meant picking it, and only it, for six months. This piece put shiny object syndrome in perspective for me:

“Six months of focused, locked-in work on one thing will outperform ten years of dispersed, hedged work on five things.”

2. I found my people

This is probably the most important thing on this list. I took a darkroom class at Cuesta College, my local community college, taught by a photographer named Richard Fusillo — he’s a great teacher and someone deeply knowledgeable about lighting, composition, and the history of photography. More than that: he was a professional photographer I knew personally and saw regularly. Almost everyone else I knew was a doctor or an engineer. The single most important part of learning something new is being regularly around people who already do that thing.

I thought of Roger Bannister, who broke the four-minute mile in 1954. This was a mark people had called physically impossible for decades. Forty-six days later, John Landy broke it again. And then within a few years, dozens of runners had done it. Nothing about the human body had changed — what changed is that someone close enough to see had just proven it was possible. A mentor does that for us on a regular basis. I still message Richard about specific problems. When I knew I wanted to learn surf photography, I searched for a mentor and found Kevin Gilligan, an LA-based sports photographer. Like me, he has another career and is also a lawyer. I didn’t just have a great lesson, I had the opportunity to befriend someone like me coming to photography after doing something else.

I also met other photographers in that class, several of whom became my first friends on the Central Coast. We have gone on photo walks and shoots together, and I still message them when I want a second opinion on a shoot or help troubleshooting a camera problem. It reminds me of residency — how does one person learn to operate on another human being, across seven years of insane physical and emotional strain? The only way to do it is being surrounded by other people doing the exact same thing. Learning surgery would have been impossible without other residents; I still call my co-fellow to talk through cases. No other pursuit on earth is as stressful as surgical residency, but the underlying mechanism is the same. YouTube has taught me a lot, but it can only get you so far. Anyone starting something new needs both a mentor and a crowd of people doing it alongside them.

3. I built a feedback loop in both directions

One of my favorite surgeons has a simple rule: you can’t get better if you don’t review your work. So I send my photos to other photographers and ask what is and isn’t working. They’ve always been generous with feedback, and it’s one of the fastest ways I’ve found to improve.

The flip side is asking for reviews back. About three months in, I opened a free Google Business profile and an Airbnb account. Even for free shoots, I asked people to leave a review after sending their gallery. A strong reputation is an asset — I also pulled from these when building my new website later on.

4. I worked with one camera

I bought a used Fujifilm X-T4 with an 18-55mm lens off eBay. I chose it because I loved the color science, and it was one generation behind the X-T5 — good enough, and cheaper. I really love this camera. It’s ideal for portraits, which make up most of my work, and I spent enough hours with it that I know it inside and out.

When anyone is learning something new, gear is the least important part, but it’s the part that most easily gets mistaken for the most important. Just like picking one thing to learn, it’s better to pick one camera and stick with it. Constraint makes us better. What actually stops most people from getting good at something isn’t equipment, it’s repetition. Someone who wants to get good at cooking can start with a $200 set of cookware from Target — they don’t need to spend thousands on Le Creuset first.

5. I leveled up right as I hit a plateau

This is related to the point above. After several months of shooting constantly on that one camera, I hit a natural plateau. I’d wanted to shoot more action photography in the water and needed higher resolution. It felt like the right time to invest in a full-frame body and a better lens, which I could also now afford with the money I’d made over the past six months.

Around the same time, I opened Lightroom and realized I had a genuinely substantial portfolio, and that it was time for a new website. My first one was built on Squarespace, back when my work was mostly film. I started rebuilding it myself before realizing a professional would get me there dramatically faster. None of this would have made sense in month two, but now it’s an investment that just feels right.

6. I shot about once a week

I’d love to say I practiced every single day. I didn’t. Most days I got home from the hospital, laid down, ate, and laid down again. Some days I walked the beach and shot film. But a realistic floor for me was one shoot a week — planned in advance, with a location and a purpose. It gave me reps in finding inspiration and planning poses ahead of time. For couples, families, and surfers, I now have pose flows memorized, so I can just chat with people while it happens naturally. I also built reps in communication, editing in Lightroom, and delivering galleries through Pixieset.

Lately I’ve shot more than once a week, but once a week was my minimum on any weekend I wasn’t on call. I also did a number of free shoots — I asked friends and they told their friends. Nearly every photographer I’ve listened to started this way, and I still do free work when it’s a project I care about.

7. I kept a regular learning schedule

Alongside the point above, I built in real self-study. When I was in Houston, I took a class from Únies Gonzalez, still one of the best film photographers I’ve seen. Before she said a word about camera mechanics, she told us: to take great photos, you have to look at a lot of photos. Go to libraries and bookstores. It’s the same advice good writers give about reading — you have to study the work of people operating at the level you want to reach, not for school, but for life.

I also think it matters to learn in long form. Instagram — my personal haven for medical memes — was eating hours of my evenings. So I built a schedule and actually kept it for six months, intentionally not intimidating: Monday, I pulled portfolios from other photographers into a Google Slides deck and sat with about ten images, listing what I liked about each one — motion blur, color grading, posing, whatever it was. Wednesday was a dedicated Lightroom editing day. Friday was long-form YouTube learning. The rule was a minimum of one hour per day, and I usually went longer.

8. I actually told people I was a photographer

Saying it out loud, before I felt anything close to ready, was harder than picking up the camera in the first place.

My friend Angie, also a photographer, reframed this for me: marketing isn’t only “putting yourself out there,” it’s having confidence in what we have to offer. So I started posting my work on Instagram, writing on Substack, and listing myself as a photography service on Airbnb Experiences. For some reason, I was scared my Instagram friends would think the whole thing was silly. I suspect anyone starting something new feels some version of this — the fear of being seen trying. What actually happened: every friend I spoke with was wildly encouraging.

Six months ago I was a surgeon who occasionally shot film. I’m still a surgeon. But I’m also, now, a photographer — and the gap between those two sentences was never talent. It was a system I could repeat around work when I didn’t feel like it. I have so much that I want to do over the next six months, but today I just walked to Pismo Pier and was really grateful to be here.

A couple of months ago I hit this pretty hard. Found out what could change and not change. I then burrowed with seasons of Abbott Elementary. Took lots of walks after work. Turned off Instagram and Substack for a while. And started making art again. So I present: how to photograph when you are really burnt out:

1. Take photos of your old friends. I went to Philadelphia for a friend’s wedding and saw my parents and some of my oldest friends. Like most people who are from Philly, I freaking love Philly. I love walking everywhere, going to small bars, seeing Eagles murals everywhere. But really more than that, photographing here is connecting to my roots and being reminded that I do have long-term roots.

2. Make something to look forward to. I wanted to learn something really new. So after a lot of searching, I found a great mentor to teach me surf photography in LA. I cut back budget-wise on a lot of things to get water housing and fins. And I’m going to learn later this month!

3. Go for a little road trip. My go-to trip after an insane call weekend is Cambria, just an hour north. Easy to get to on the 101. My point and shoot in the back of the car. While I haven’t yet put my phone on DND (perhaps the ultimate luxury for a doctor), I do put it in silent. These are a couple of my favorite places — all shot on Gold 200, which is what I keep loading up here.

Hearst Beach — I read and journaled at Sebastian’s, the little general store right next door that’s been there since the 1850s. Get a sandwich, sit outside, watch the pier. The light here in the late afternoon goes soft and silver off the water — Gold 200 holds warmth even as the marine layer flattened everything out, which is why I love to shoot with it on the coast.

The elephant seals — A total spirit animal. Lying in the sun, not a care in the world, no 401k to worry about. The vista point is right off the 1, a few miles north of the pier. Can’t go down onto the sand, but there’s a great viewing deck.

The strawberry stand — There’s a roadside stand I pass every single time I’m up here, a hand-painted berry sign propped on the shoulder of the 1. I finally stopped. Pulled over, shot the boxes stacked under the striped awning, and bought a flat. I then had way more of that flat than I’d like to admit on the drive further up.

Moonstone Beach — This to me is the idea boardwalk walk at sunset. Pelicans come through in formation right at golden hour. I saved this one for last — the boardwalk runs the whole bluff, and film in that light is wonderful.

I hope everyone is taking care of themselves :) Burnout makes most of us less inclined to call friends, make art, and spend time outside. The struggle is so real, and not at all reflected in a bunch of Instagram photos. There's no great answer, but I can say that still making something, even infrequently, is one of the best things to do.

Here’s what’s in it at any given time:

One to two surfboards. This requires the backseat folded flat and the front passenger seat all the way down, headrest off. A 9-footer fits. My 8-footer can stack on top. It all looks like chaos from the outside but is perfectly snug.

All of the surf accessories — zinc, sunscreen, ear water repellent, earplugs, and swimmers ear drops. I am, apparently, a magnet for ear problems. A water sport chose me but we make it work.

My film cameras. To be upfront: leaving film in a hot car is technically bad practice. But I’m only shooting before or right after work, and when I get out at the end of a shift as the sun is dropping, there’s no time to go home first. So the cameras live in the car, tucked inside my purse, inside a zip-lock freezer bag for whatever insulation that offers. Is it ideal? No. Is shooting something better than shooting nothing? Yesss.

My surgical loupes - with covering three hospitals, a car is actually the best place to keep these. If I have an elective case or get called into one, I can just run out to the parking lot to get them from my trunk.

And a full spectrum of scrubs in every shade of blue known to hospital administration. When I’m moving between hospitals, I’ll sometimes just layer them — one set on top of another. At the end of a day I can be three scrubs deep. There’s something absurd but entirely practical about this.

The job is meaningful. It’s also exhausting in ways that are hard to explain. What I’ve learned, slowly, is that the only thing that reliably helps is being outside.

Now that the days are longer, I’m surfing before work — which means a 5am alarm, which I will not pretend is going smoothly at all. BUT there is nothing like being in the water at first light.

And at the end of every shift, regardless of how it went, I walk. This is non-negotiable now. We’re lucky on the Central Coast: real trails within ten minutes of SLO, forgiving hills with views we can reach in under an hour. If it’s been a late day and I don’t have that kind of energy, I do fifteen minutes on the beach with my camera. Something so small there’s no excuse when one lives this close to the water.

After a co-worker noticed my trunk, I’ve been thinking about what it means that my camera lives in the car in a freezer bag next to the zinc and the ear drops.

It means I’ve stopped treating it like a special occasion. It’s not something I take out when a shoot is planned and the conditions are right. It’s just there, the way the sunscreen is there, the way the scrubs are there. Part of the routine.

Many of my favorite frames from this spring came from the thirty-minute window between leaving a hospital and losing the light entirely. That’s the practice - the camera being somewhere in reach on an ordinary Tuesday.

If you’re struggling to shoot consistently - and most of us are — I’d ask one question before anything else: where does your camera live?

It shouldn’t be in a drawer. It shouldn’t be in a bag in your closet waiting for the right weekend. The freezer-bag-in-the-backseat situation is not elegant. But it’s working one roll at a time.

I’d heard about California wildflower blooms for years. This past March, I finally went.

I got off work on a Friday evening and drove straight to Soda Lake in the Carrizo Plain — about an hour and a half from the hospital. No planning beyond that. The sun was already low when I arrived, inching back toward the horizon, and the backlight was just a *chef’s kiss.*

All of the photos below were shot on a Canon Autoboy with Kodak Gold 200. I also had a Canon AE-1 with me, but those rolls are still being developed — the particular procrastination of sending in ten rolls at once two months after shooting. (Worth the wait!)

Kodak Gold 200 was the right fit for this. It has a warmth bias that leans into yellows and oranges — which, when you’re standing in a field of goldfields at last light, means the film is doing a favor. The backlight shot was pure flare, and Gold handled it the way only film does: not as a technical problem to correct, but as part of the image.

The grain on Gold 200 is fine enough that you don’t notice it at normal viewing distances, but it’s there — it gives the images a softness that suits this particular landscape. Carrizo Plains feels like it’s from another era, and I think the film agrees!

There’s a lovely path and boardwalk around the lake. I came across a grand total of three other people at the beginning of my walk and zero by the end. It was ever so slightly unsettling to be the only person out here in a landscape that size, but so very serene.

I would definitely come here at sunrise or sunset - the light changes everything. The flora can photograph flat in midday. Also, there is just about no shade at all, so if you do end up in a hot one, bring deodorant and a hat.

Another thing about this adventure – I cut it very, very close with gas. In the future, I would definitely recommend fueling up beforehand, as there is nothing nearby. Also download Google maps before hand instead of winging it back to the right direction like yours truly.

I’m already thinking about where to go next. A road trip is overdue, and this feels like the right weekend to sit down with a big cup of coffee and start mapping it out. If anyone has been somewhere worth shooting on film this summer — or is planning something — I’d love to hear it.

1. Back of the car. This is where we all get ready and also where a lot of our boards live.

   

2. Searching for waves. Usually a friend is at a higher vantage point than the water. For example, at Shell Beach we look out from the top of the Beachcomber stairs.

   

3. Waxing the board. I mix up the full body shots with a close-up of hands doing the waxing.

   

4. The board itself. This can be the full board and just fins.

   

5. Reflection. When this works out it’s so nice – it usually it has to be at early morning or sunset.

   

6. Walking towards the water. I take a step back from the subject to get a zoomed out shot as they enter

   

7. A long distance shot. I then move even further back to get a wider view of the surrounding landscape.

   

8. Board over head. This is a classic silhouette for longboarders and I think always looks beautiful.

   

9. Face close-up. The ocean is special to us and brings so much joy! Often I can see faces light up just walking to the water.

   

10. The accessories. All of the other surf knick knacks that live in our cars round out the story.

I’m always looking to take photos of surfers. There’s so much variety, motion, and beauty to our way of life. And more to come - I’ve been searching for water housing and water-based film cameras for this summer.

Many people who shoot film send it to a lab for development and scanning. The physical part of the process ends at loading the film and the click of the shutter. Last year I learned to develop and print black-and-white film myself. This post is about the development process and why I think it’s worth learning.

Film is organic

Unlike digital, film is a physical medium. Shooting on film is literally burning light onto a chemical surface. Like other organic things, film can expire, warp, and surprise you. Development is the part where you take what you’ve captured and bring it into the world yourself.

The steps of development

The first step happens in complete darkness. The film is unloaded from its canister and wound carefully onto a film spool — this part requires patience. For my first several rolls, and still occasionally, one of my film teachers has helped me load. Once on the spool, the film goes into a development tank that seals out all light. This usually takes place in a closet that either locks from the inside or has a sign on the door that says “Please knock.”

From there the chemicals take over, added one at a time into the development tank and agitated at specific intervals — roughly 30 seconds to 8 minutes per step, varying by film type.

1. Developer — begins the chemical reaction that reveals the image

2. Stop bath — halts the development process

3. Fixer — makes the image permanent and light-safe

4. Hypo clear — removes residual fixer from the film

5. Water wash — film is rinsed for 5 to 10 minutes

6. Dry — hung in a drying cabinet for about 10 minutes, or up to an hour without one. A good time to take lunch.

Once dry I scan my negatives using an Epson scanner at the Cuesta darkroom. In Houston a Noritsu scanner was available. I keep a thumb drive on my keychain so I always have one handy.

I haven’t learned to develop color film yet — it requires more precise temperature control and involves more chemical toxicity than black and white. For now I send my color rolls to a lab, though it’s something I want to learn eventually.

Why darkroom development matters

Today, images can be produced instantly and endlessly. That ease can remove us miles from art. The darkroom has made me slow down and be present with what I’m making.

Community darkrooms are wonderful third spaces. The people I met in my film class were some of my first friends in California. I still regularly follow the work of my darkroom friends in Houston. Almost everyone I’ve met who develops their own work has been kind, patient, and genuinely enthusiastic about sharing photography.

And finally, development — and film in general — teaches you to accept failure. Film has a life of its own. A roll can be underexposed, scratched, or accidentally fogged. I’ve had all of these, and several entirely blank rolls. Unlike digital, there’s no undo. Learning to work with that uncertainty — and often be delighted by it — is part of why seeing the final result is so rewarding.

These photos are from one of my first months here, when I was on a streak of shooting as much black-and-white film as I could to bring into the darkroom at Cuesta. These photos are from Greener Pastures Animal Sanctuary in Arroyo Grande — close to where I live, and one of the first places I found myself wanting to come back to.

The woman in these photos is Diane, the executive director. She took me on a tour through all of the animals — horses, donkeys, goats, chickens, geese, and a couple of others I’m probably missing. She explained the scale of what it takes to keep a place like this running: feeds, cleaning, vet care, a rotating crew of Cal Poly student volunteers. But, the staff are so steady and easy-going, in part because of how peaceful a place like this is. I’m pretty sure my blood pressure lowered by 20 points. After being in hospitals with constant alarms and calls, I was so happy to spend time in fresh air here.

Diane talked about how they found this land and what it looked like when they first arrived. Wide open space. They built so much of the infrastructure and the buildings on the property. (This is what it looks like when people take care of something instead of over developing it for profit.)

When I was researching Greener Pastures before reaching out, I found this quote on their website: “Children trained to extend justice, kindness and mercy to animals become more kind, just and considerate in their relations to each other.” Having now visited a few sanctuaries like this one, I think the same is true for adults. The people who run these places are almost always the most genuinely good people I’ve met. I love seeing the animals. But it’s the people who have made this their life’s work that are the real highlights.

There is no better way to capture this than a film point-and-shoot camera. Not an iPhone. Not a fancy DSLR. A small unpretentious camera loaded with film, doing its job.

I use a Canon Autoboy, but the specs of the camera are less important here than the process. Film is fleeting — and at a gathering like this, that’s the gift. With this camera, we don’t have to think. With a digital camera or phone, the image exists the moment we take it and we often immediately become editors. We check the screen, retake, and curate in real time. With a point-and-shoot loaded with film, we press the shutter and move on. As a result, we stay with the people in front of us.

There are also joys that only reveal themselves at development. There’s the unexpected blur that was the feeling of the moment. The expressions you would have missed if you’d been looking at a screen. The flash that makes everyone look like they’re at the best party (because they are). But mostly, it’s the feeling of having been really, truly there.

The thing I love most, which might drive some people crazy, is the reunion. Weeks after development, back in my new home across the country, I sat with this set of photos and rediscovered this trip. For this particular set I also printed out a bunch and shared them.

You don’t need to know anything about photography to do this. A point-and-shoot is small, unobtrusive, and almost entirely self-sufficient — a little flash for low light, and that’s it. The imperfection makes the image feel like a memory instead of a record. We can easily make taking pictures a natural part of our lives with other people in a way that doesn’t feel like always being on our phones. This is an invitation to just get started.

This past month, I did a shoot with a friend in Cayucos post-call. The light was absolutely gorgeous, with the sort of warm quality that makes everything look softer. We had managed to squeeze it in, as she was about to travel for several months. The day before, I had gotten three hours of sleep and fielded 75 phone calls in a 24-hour period on top of rounding and operating. It was also no question for me that chasing that morning light was worth it — it brought me more joy than I’d felt in a while.

The problem here is that medicine takes everything. Identity, schedule, emotional bandwidth. There is so little time off in surgery, and the little time we do have is often spent trying to feel vaguely normal. This is a little better than in residency, but many of my friends who are new attending physicians have echoed the grind is still very much a grind. Most physicians who had creative lives before residency quietly let them go — not because they wanted to, but because there’s only so much one person can do at once.

When I started this job, I wanted to have a creative life and not make medicine the only part of myself that mattered. I chose to move to California not only for the ocean, but because so much of my time in cities previously was spent consuming — eating out, drinking, buying things. All of these are connected with wonderful memories. But what I really wanted was to create, to put things out into the world, and to find other people who were doing the same.

This has been one of the most protective things against burnout for me. What it actually looks like in practice: I shoot at 6:30 am not only because the light is wonderful, but because our workday starts at 7. I keep my cameras in the car and shoot directly after work — if I go home and sit down on the couch, I will immediately fall asleep. I try to take at least one photo every day just to keep the eye sharp. On weekends I plan one full shoot for people and am intentional about setting these up rather than waiting for them to happen. And I carve out roughly one hour a day for something creative — editing in Lightroom, looking for inspiration from other photographers, writing, posting, learning. Most of the time it’s less than I’d like and messier than I’d planned. But doing literally something snowballs. It adds up in ways that are hard to see until suddenly you look back and six months have passed and you’ve made more work than you have in years.

The biggest thing, though, has been sharing my work with friends. I’ve been on the Central Coast long enough to build community with surfers and artists alongside my day job. Photographing people and being able to give them those images as a gift has been one of my greatest joys. And many of these friends are artists themselves, with so much to share in return.

Surgery and photography are not opposites. They both require us to be fully present, to see the people in front of us clearly, and to work with our hands. Creative work doesn’t take away from clinical work — it feeds it and gives it longevity.

There are my six black hats personalities talk meowing nickname this messagemany things I’d like to do more of: learn to color grade, learn to photograph in the water, and see more of California on road trips with a film camera. The biggest limitation right now is my own energy. I’m still often very, very tired. Most people in healthcare can relate to the feeling of taking care of so many others and running on empty. At the same time, just starting will often carry you forward on its own. I’ve never left my neighborhood pottery studio and regretted going. I’ve never thought that a sleep-deprived shoot was a waste of time — if anything, the opposite.

I’d tell my younger self to not put the camera away for later.

I really love how much natural light sweeps through the top floor of this house. My first month was spent gathering furniture and frames to fill out all these walls. That print in the foreground is an antique map of Philadelphia that was given to me by a coworker before I finished residency and moved. In the very background on the window sill, the bottle comes from one great day tasting wine and playing corn hole at a winery outside Philadelphia with three of my closest friends. My cat Kiki loves to curl up on the fleece blanket on the couch.

This is the one plant that I've managed to keep alive, and I think it’s because this spot has the most direct sunlight in my house. After all of the deceased plants that came before her, I think she'll stay as a solo plant for now. That glass next to her had liquor from Sri Lanka. I met the most wonderful host family had a homestay in Ella, and the night before I left we talked about so much of our lives and split that bottle. The octopus print comes from an art market at Cherry Street Pier in Philadelphia. My friends and I had spent that entire weekend at a bachelor party and ended with a mellow Sunday at the market.

I've been trying to keep fresh flowers here above the kitchen sink every week - thank you Trader Joe's. The flower candle holder was from a road trip with two amazing friends Abhay and Amanda, both of whom have a great eye for home decor. I used to be in the camp where I'd not want to buy a single thing while traveling, and now I love getting things like this that are a small daily reminders of the places that we've been to together. The incense holder is from a cement goods store in Houston named Amano (“by hand”) in the Montrose area.

I have a small roof! Right now the only thing that lives there is this drying rack, which is the home for my wetsuit and any number of swimsuits. Half the time this thing does topple over. I have a small hose on the ground floor that I used to rinse off stuff if there is no shower at the beach, and I bring everything up in the bin to dry out here. With it being spring, I’ve looked at a couple of outdoor rugs and hammocks.

Just having a space outside in the sun to dry all my ocean gear makes me smile all the time. The other thing is every single time that I pull into my garage and remember that I am not going to war for parking in the street (if you know, you know from Philadelphia). It’s way too easy for any woman in her 30s to feel behind on a number of things - relationships, friends, jobs, etc. Just existing in peace is not a thing, because when we achieve things, the bar constantly moves forward. BUT when I see photos like these, I also remember that nearly every day for seven years, all I wanted was to have a little house by the ocean, and in this real estate market where the horrors persist, a rental counts. Just being here, within walking distance of the beach (though a very, very long walk) is something that intern me would've been delighted by.

This is the extension of my home:

And to any friends, hope to see you here soon.

But first, the story backs up eight years to 2018 in Essaouira, Morocco. Joe, his friend Dom, and I all met in a hostel fabulously called Green Milk in an evening jam session. Our newly formed trio then went to Marrakesh together, and all three of us just so happened to have a flight to England on the same day. The universe sometimes spins in very cool circles. I took a train from London to Bristol to hang out with them and other people that I had met during my travels (who also coincidentally lived in Bristol).

Up to 2023: The gang reunites again in Bristol.

And finally, with the magic of social media, in 2025 we found that we moved cross-country and trans-continental to California! I had gotten to the Central Coast, and Joe was on a visa to work at the Lazy Bear, a Michelin starred restaurant in San San Francisco (incredible!). Two transplants with just the right amount of overlap to take off our third continent together.

Flight prices home were absolutely atrocious during the holidays, like robbery in broad daylight. We both wanted meet and to see more of California. Initially we were planning on camping in Point Reyes, but then a relative monsoon overtook most of California. And so we decided instead to go to the Palm Desert, which was relatively rainproof.

On the drive down from San Luis Obispo we went through a town called Maricopa and just had to get out and take pictures. This was right as the sun was setting. The main street here had the town hall, one diner, and this awesome gas station below. This is classic Americana and total delight for an international visitor.

Our Airbnb was just off of a huge set of windmills, which is also a tourist attraction in the area. We had also debated going camping but actually love running water.

We set out to the Indian Canyons first thing in the morning and walked through Murray and Andreas Canyons. These have really lovely and relatively easy trails. Parts of the trails pass through the canyon floors, which are covered with palm trees. Early in the morning, they diffuse the light, making for wonderful photos. Higher parts of the canyons are exposed with a views down into the valley. At the top of Murray Canyon, two people saw my Canon AE-1 and stopped us to chat about their own film!

This is also the first time that I splurged on Portra 400 and I gotta say, it is SO worth it for shooting people. Here is one of my favorites below. Portra is classic for a reason.

We then went to the Palm Springs Aerial Tramway at dusk. It was gorgeous to see the sky start to go to sleep above the desert. Claim to fame: this is the largest rotating aerial tramway in the world. On top of that, the every banger Christmas carol (Feliz Navidad, All I Want for Christmas is You, etc) was on blast the entire way up.

By the time we reached to the top, it had become dark outside. I’ve been working on shooting in low light and love how this frame came out.

The rest is, well, a car accident and a hospital blur. We are fortunately both ok, thanks in large part to very kind friends and family. Also, we are on different continents now with visa expiration. But, there is something that I really, really love about this – the door is always open (sometimes by a small crack) to seeing people again. That’s part of the wonder, fun, and sometimes sadness of taking different paths - we don’t know when it’ll be. Even now, I’m unsure when I’ll see some people from Houston or Philadelphia again. That’s what makes it feel like a smile from the universe when it does happen. With luck and a little bit of planning, for Joe and me our friendship has somehow landed in three continents over eight years.

And where’s the fourth? I don’t know yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s out there.

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Below are pictures that I took, which remain some of my favorite images. These were all taken by phone. At the time I didn't own a camera. I personally love these pictures, because I was so fully there. I remember not worrying about money, who I needed to be, or any milestones to hit. It was where I found out that I love photographing people.

I started off this surf camp with a group of women from England and France. I got really lucky - we were all the same age and just starting surfing. We would go for a session in the morning and in our downtime follow the main road through town to Devil’s Rock. Tamraght has undergone a lot of development, but at that time it was comprised of a few shops, a hammam, and a small compound for European retirees.

Our favorite group instructor was named Cereal. She was a Moroccan native and a very talented longboarder. She also took us to great places to eat. I remember countless times that we had tajine and a never-ending cups of mint tea (all with a high pour). I had traveled with my family before before, but not like this. Our worlds were expanded with meeting new people all the time, and I loved that surf was what we all had in common.

Afterwards I stayed in a hostel and went to one of the local surf shops at Tamraght beach. This is where I met other friends, including one who later also visited me in South Africa. We would gather on the patio of the surf shop, or when it rained we stayed inside and played music. One of the shop owners was named Tarik Elbassity, who is a championship Moroccan longboarder. Every day there were Moroccan surfers who also came by to say hi to the owners including Tarik.

During this time, I did get a lot better from practicing in the ocean regularly. Especially as a beginner, it was so good to get out even in less than ideal conditions and just take white wash then. Then I also really felt like I earned the tajine afterwards. Plus, I just enjoyed meeting new surfers all the time, who I think are still some of the most fun subjects to photograph.

I couldn’t help but smile when I went through these photos again. It feels like another lifetime but also something that has really influenced how I got to California. I'll see you back there with a longboard and camera soon enough :)

I’m relatively new to photography and not at all new to surgery. Over the past year, I’ve did a deep dive into lessons, YouTube videos, and practice with film. However, one of the things that actually has helped me the most has been a decade long process of learning surgery. There are a lot of similarities, which is why photography resonates so much for me – the combination of art and technicality, working with changing subjects, and having a lot of things that are out of our control (as opposed to say, a desk-based job).

These are a couple of the things that I’ve learned from my first year of really shooting film - from surgery

It’s the person, not the machine (and always will be for me)

There are so many gear review videos floating out there. They are easily the most popular type of photography video, and often a first question is what kind of camera someone uses. All of the photographers I admire most have been able to make incredible images from disposable or point and shoot cameras in addition to their $$$ medium format ones. In the menu, composition and lighting are the main courses and gear is…not even dessert. It’s like a peppermint after dessert.

Choosing the right modality is important, but I also think it’s a very small part of being a good surgeon. I feel even more strongly about this now that I’m in practice. There have been so many studies on modality – open, laparoscopic, robotic. (There are well-documented differences in recovery time, ergonomics, etc.) People who spend a lot of time doing this know that a machine doesn’t automatically make a good operation, and it takes years to learn how to be thorough and facile. One of my favorite surgeons often says “people want to know that you care before they care what you know.”

I’ve found that for most patients, the most important part of this is their surgeon – the kindness that they bring, how they understand who the patient is, and how carefully they decide what operation is right for them. This is about two thousand times harder to teach than the robot manual.

A photo shoot is a small part of the total experience.

When I was in medical school, I think a lot of us started out thinking that surgeons operate five days a week. Operating is a small portion of our time. It’s a tip of an iceberg, and likewise, shooting is a small part of photography. The more complex and impactful an operation is, the more time that has gone into counseling, coordinating colleagues, and being prepared in multiple ways. An operation is an endpoint of a long road. Shooting as well (at least for me) actually doesn’t take that much time. Especially as I’ve been lately taking photos for other people, I spend more and more time planning and in Lightroom.

Community is actually transformative

When I moved, the first thing I (and a lot of transplants) looked for was other people. I scoured the internet for community classes and groups outside of work.

I had taken a photography class here and there, but it was only after I found a community film studio in Houston (Flats, one of the best places I’ve seen) that I really started to moved forward with film. I took lessons, signed up for community dark room, and got to meet other members. One of the first things I did when I moved to San Luis Obispo was to look for a film community, which I found through a dark room class at Cuesta College. I’ve met so many interesting people here, including one guy who has an enormous collection of black and white film Sopranos portraits.

Communities take on different forms. I’m pretty sure I would not have survived the last seven years without my co-residents and co-fellows. Besides being in a sleep-deprived, junk food-filled trench, I think we are meant to learn things together, particularly if they are hard. My co-fellow is also one of my closest friends and learning digital. And now, we get to talk about our jobs and photos whenever we call.

A couple months in, I’m still settling in but feel so much more grounded here than when I started, particularly because of the people I’ve met.

One of my reasons for looking heavily at jobs in California was to be able to surf regularly. Not one or two times a year on vacation and the inevitable cycle of start/stop start/stop. I interviewed in Philadelphia, Northern Houston, Kauai, San Diego, and SLO, a total whirlwind. Perhaps metaphorically, besides this place being the best job fit for me, it was also the only place where I was able to surf before interviewing. (In both San Diego and Kauai there were recent storms and the water quality was really bad.)

Having been at a number of spots around the world, I can actually say with confidence that the central coast is one of the best places for someone like me, who is at a beginner – intermediate stage and looking to progress. There is an imaginary triangle and the three points are as follows:

1. Consistent waves

2. Not too many people

3. Warm water

You can pick two :)

The water here can be really cold, but that’s the one thing that is semi under our control. The first wetsuit that I got was a 5/4 thickness, which felt like a cocoon and took about half an hour of awkwardness to take on and off. A 4/3 is perfect for me. Most importantly though, when the waves are nice, this is one of the least crowded places that I have ever seen. I remember when I was in Sri Lanka this past summer, Arugam Bay had so many people that in about five minutes I saw three collisions. Instructors were pushing people onto waves all the time, and there were just so many people in the water. Of course not all spots are like this, but there are many.

All the time, I’m struck by this combination of glassiness, good size, and friendliness of people in the water here. Once in a while there is some localism, but it’s really rare, and people are encouraging. I also have met a couple of awesome ladies while surfing who have become friends.

Morro Bay and Pismo Beach are the spots I go to most frequently. I’m biased towards Pismo since I live so close by and there is a sandy bottom (there was that great time when I ran straight onto a rock at Shell Beach). I have tried to go in the early mornings before work but have just not been able to get my shit together. Whenever the work schedule coincides, I head right over to be able to catch the sunset and blue hour.

Another final thing that is always on my mind having come from the northeast: parking. I’m still so scarred from when I was parking half on the sidewalk in Philadelphia. From my own experience, there are no other beaches in California that are as accessible as the ones here. I struggled for parking and San Diego and LA and it was painful when I just wanted to get out into the water. At Pismo, the Addie Street surfers parking lot and Wadsworth St spots are FREE. The Pismo Beach pier is free before 10 AM.

Hopefully the residents who have been here a while realize how great they have it. With the waves getting smaller as we come out of winter, all I’m looking to do is to have some fun longboard sessions as often as possible.

After I started shooting more, I decided to try to see as many of these places as possible, both to meet people and practice film. The first of these places was a donkey sanctuary called Rancho Burro. I had been looking for an equine rescue, as I think the animals are so beautiful.

You can tell how much love the owners put into this rescue. It’s a wonderfully maintained stable and grounds. For instance, the stable has a special padded floor for the joints of older animals.

I learned some of the differences between donkeys and horses - for example, horses can be trained to follow their humans in some very dangerous situations, but donkeys need to feel comfortable first.

There are also two sweet senior dogs and a barn cat here (no photos of them unfortunately). And there’s a large medical area. It takes so much work to keep up an animal rescue.

These were taken with my Canon AE-1 and Ilford Delta 400 film. I developed them in a film photography class (more on that later) and this is one of the dark room prints. I love how it turned out!

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Hi for the first time :)

What better way than the Substack template to get this started

1. Why this, why now

My name is Clara. I grew up in the northeast and the past 10 years in Philadelphia (go birds forever). I made my way west to the Central California coast this past winter in search of waves…and a job. I’m a surgeon by trade and try to spend every minute possible out of the hospital outside. It’s amazing to me to be able to go to the beach every day and hike regularly. I absolutely love baby wave surfing, no matter how bad I am at it.

2. What kind of community are you looking to build here

This is my little corner of the Internet finding joy and community in this new home. Moving in one’s thirties is beautiful and empowering and at times lonely. I’d like for this space to be the internet version of a warm friend that I would have also liked to meet when I first came over. I love learning about film and surf from the people around me, and I’m looking to do the same online! And hopefully I’ll also have a bit to contribute :)

3. Be specific

I plan on posting on Thursdays – just a peek into over the ridge into the weekend coming ahead. I’ll be sharing notes from some of my photos of this area, road trips in California, and mini guides to my favorite places on the Central Coast.

4. Use an image and “subscribe” buttons

This is one of the first pictures that I took of Pismo Beach when I moved here (Canon AE-1, Ultramax 400). It was a pinch-me moment that after all this time in training, I now live a five minute drive from this beach that people come to vacation too. I also surfed at this same spot the morning of my interview, and it’s still the place that I go to most in a week.

5. Ignore our advice

Whoops, made it to the end