There was a season where I thought style was something you arrived at. Like one day you wake up and suddenly everything makes sense. Your work looks cohesive. Your voice feels clear. Your confidence feels earned.

That has never been my story.

My style was shaped slowly. Quietly. Through conversations, shared spaces, borrowed confidence, and people who saw something in me before I had language for it. Long before weddings felt like a career, photography felt like community. And the way I photograph love today is inseparable from the people who walked with me when I was still figuring out how to hold a camera and what it meant to be trusted with someone’s story.

This is not a list. It is a timeline.

It starts with how I learned to see.

Learning how to see

Daniel Davis of Framed by Daniel and I go way back. College years. Life years. The kind of history where you grow up alongside someone and look around one day and realize you are both doing something creative, just differently enough to inspire each other.

From the beginning, Daniel’s work stopped me in my tracks. Not because it was loud, but because it was intentional. Every frame felt deliberate. Every choice felt considered. His work never screamed for attention. It just held it.

I remember scrolling through his images and feeling something click. This quiet realization that photography could feel closer to fashion than documentation. That branding mattered. That restraint could be powerful.

When I look at Daniel’s work, I do not think about weddings. I think about design. I think about taste. I think about someone who knows exactly who they are. That confidence changed the way I thought about framing, composition, and how much intention should live behind every image.

Savannah H Photography came into my life differently. Savannah’s work feels precise. Clean lines. Thoughtful compositions. Editing that feels crisp without ever feeling cold. There is discipline in her work, and that discipline shows up everywhere.

What struck me most was how early that clarity appeared. Watching someone commit to craft at such a young age forces you to raise your own standard. It reminds you that excellence is not accidental. It is chosen, again and again.

From her, I learned that talent is only part of the equation. Care matters. Precision matters. Showing up fully matters.

When doors open quietly

I still remember walking into the Wandering Creatives retreat in Charleston. I had just bought my first camera. Photography was something I loved, but it was not my life yet. I was still working full-time as a college pastor. I was surrounded by photographers who had been doing this for years.

I felt small. Not in a bad way. Just aware.

Sarah Lessley and Morgan Hayes were the ones who changed that feeling. They did not make me prove myself. They did not make me earn a seat. They simply made space.

They invited me into conversations. Into learning. Into possibility. I watched how they ran their business, how they treated people, how generous they were with their knowledge. That retreat did not just teach me about photography. It showed me that this could become something real.

That weekend also planted the seed for Charleston becoming home. Funny how places attach themselves to moments like that.

They taught me that access can change a life. That generosity is a form of leadership. That no one remembers how impressive you were, but they remember how safe they felt around you.

Before I believed it myself

Ashlyn Cathey believed in me before I knew how to believe in myself.

I knew her long before photography was part of my world. We were in high school and she was the photographer for our yearbook – Back then, I watched her from a distance. She was already doing the thing. Already building something creative and meaningful. In my mind, she was untouchable.

When I finally stepped into photography, we reconnected. Not only was she still pursuing photography, but she grew her own business and she was thriving. Every venue seemed to know her and every planner seemed to love her. She was a celebrity in my eyes – but when we reconnected, she was the same loving and deeply intentional Ashlyn I remembered from high school. She answered my questions. She sent me long voice memos telling me why she chose the gear she has, giving me advice on pricing myself, and was never insecure about sharing her wisdom with me. She let me second shoot weddings for her when I was still figuring out how everything worked, allowed me to borrow her lenses to figure out which ones I wanted to invest in next. I watched her lead the day with professionalism – but also led with hospitality and care at the center of it all. Her love towards others was her ministry.

She trusted me with her couples. With her gear. With her reputation. She spoke life into me in moments where I felt unsure and small.

There is something powerful about being seen that early. About having someone say, you are good at this, before you feel ready to claim it yourself.

If I trace my confidence back far enough, it leads to her.

Finding my voice

Being a male in a predominantly female industry, I often feel hyper aware of my own male privileges and at times I find myself attempting to over-correct that I’m still doing a disservice to myself and the women in my field. I tried to be sensitive to the others around me that I was overthinking how I felt I needed to show up as I have always felt the need to fit into this criteria of how female wedding photographers show up to a wedding day and how they carry their business.

But then I came across Dan Sims on social media. She was, in my eyes, a celebrity. Her reels came up and it showed a side of her I felt like I could deeply connect with. She showed up unapologetic, unfiltered, and – I hate how overused this word is, but – authentic and raw.

She wasn’t in your face about her relationship to Jesus. But you saw the confidence she carried in something that colored the way she looked at life. In the best compliment I know how – she embraced the ratchet, “lil wayne-loving” side to herself – and the Atlanta raised side of me absolutely loved that.

At first, these reels were just funny videos that I thought were hilarious. I didn’t know her, but what I didn’t realize was how it was shaping me slowly to be unapologetically be myself. It gave me permission to not have to be so “polished” or “refined”. I never related to that description anyways.

The best part is, when you meet her, you realize that behind the humor and confidence is someone whose main driving force is loving Jesus, loving the life she’s been gifted, and loving the people who are in it.

Dan’s confidence in her voice gives others the space and confidence to find theirs.

Learning what trust feels like

Emmy Doyley is someone you trust immediately. Not because she asks you to, but because her presence makes it easy.

Her work feels like memory. Grainy. Cinematic. Emotional. But what matters more to me is the way she loves her people. Clients. Vendors. Friends. Everyone is met with care.

We have spent a couple of hours chatting talking about life. Marriage. Faith. Business. The hard parts. The quiet parts. Her faith exists in her work without ever being performative. It is woven in, not announced.

In an industry where authenticity can sometimes feel rehearsed, Emmy feels grounded. Real. She is someone I trust with my life, and that trust shows up every time we work together.

When style starts to shift

There was a moment where I realized my work was changing.

I still loved laughter. Movement. Playfulness. All of the emotions that came from deeply rooted relationships where still my driving force. But I also found myself craving stillness. Drama. Editorial energy. Images that felt like fashion stories instead of instructions.

And not just aesthetics for aesthetics sake, but rather a sense of giving yourself permission to take up space – to be bold. To be unique. To be extra.

Eléa Chateau helped me name that shift.

She is a portrait photographer, not a wedding photographer, but her influence on my work is undeniable. Her images feel bold. Fashion-forward. Intentional. It redefines the standards of beauty and allowed for an inclusion of people, styles and personalities. Watching her work made me ask a question I had not asked before.

Can I bring this into weddings?

Her encouragement gave me permission to explore that answer. To let weddings feel elevated and editorial without losing emotion. To trust that evolution is part of growth.

She has become one of my closest friends in Charleston. She second shoots and associate shoots weddings with me. & I trust her deeply. Her presence represents where my work is now and where it is going.

The one who does it all

Last but not least, I would never be where I am if it wasn’t for the complete and utter support, love, encouragement and push from my wife, Shelby.

There was a moment in our life where I was making $800 a month working as a full-time college pastor in Athens, GA while our rent alone was double. I worked a second job as a server late nights. She was the breadwinner in our household, and when I pitched the idea to quit the serving job, spend $1000 on a camera, and spend another $1500 to go to a photography content retreat in Charleston, SC where I had to cover my own Airbnb cost – all for the idea of “I think I might enjoy this” – she supported me and cheered me on. Even with the inevitable doubts and fears, she championed me to keep going.

Later in life, she not only picked up a camera herself, but she also went full-time into photography. I noticed a shift in her that no only made me proud to watch her photography evolve, but begin to see her in the projects she created. Although we photograph very different things, every now and then, we get to travel to different states and countries, visiting Mexico, Greece and Portugal together to shoot weddings for my couples while giving ourselves an incredible adventure within our own marriage. While I may have helped her around the technicalities of the camera, she created art from within. Her creative portraits are an expression of who she is and what inspires her. She quickly became an inspiration for me to add my own personality into my photography. She reminded me that even though wedding photography is a lot more of customer service than it is an art, doesn’t mean what we create for our couples isn’t art.

She was my biggest cheerleader. She pushed me more than anyone else when I doubted myself the most. She encouraged all the risks that would not only affect me, but affect our family. She challenged me to value myself even when no one else seemed to. And she taught me to never lose sight of who I am or the values I carry in the business.

She kept me grounded. Steady. And yet somehow, she also pushed me to fly. I am EVERYTHING that I am today, because of her love and sacrifice.

Carrying this into every wedding

Every wedding I photograph carries pieces of these people with it. The way I frame moments. The way I guide without controlling. The way I protect space for real connection. None of that happened in isolation.

It was modeled. Given. Passed down.

When couples trust me with their wedding day, they are trusting someone who learned how to care before learning how to shoot. Someone who understands that photography is not about performance, but presence.

I did not get here alone. And I photograph weddings the way I do because people believed in me long before I ever believed I was ready.

– Ean