Looking Back at 2025 - Part 2: From Dead Air to Overdrive
There was no gentle reentry.
One minute, the year felt like it was holding its breath. The next, it was sprinting forward at full speed. No countdown. No warning. It was a sudden return of momentum that didn’t ask whether I was ready.
Thankfully, there was a “handoff” of sorts. Just as Uptown Rhythm and Brass was winding down for the summer, the photo business kicked in full force. With shoots stacking up and deadlines overlapping, the calendar stopped feeling like a plan and started feeling more like a negotiation. Somewhere in the middle of that, the balance between family, Duquesne, Uptown, and Steve Groves MediaWorks became a tightrope act with no safety net.
Fall always carries energy, but this one felt compressed. Dense. Weeks blurred together as if the entire season had been turned up and sped up at the same time.
Be My Neighbor Day was first, and it wasn’t just another assignment. It was a community event in my own backyard, right here in Etna, and the weather couldn’t have been better. Organized by the Etna Community Organization in partnership with WQED, the day felt less like coverage and more like participation. Vendors lined the streets. Local bands played throughout the day. Businesses opened their doors and welcomed people inside. Tee ball games took over the parking lot at the Rear End Gastropub, unfolding directly in front of the Mac Miller mural. Photographing that kind of event hits differently. You’re not just documenting activity—you’re preserving your home. It was chaotic in the way only good community events are, and it set the tone for everything that followed.
Not long after, I ran my second year of fall mini photo sessions. This round took place at Allegheny Rivertrail Park, a new location with different light and a different rhythm, and a mix of new and returning clients. Those sessions stripped everything down to fundamentals and reinforced something important. This wasn’t just proof of concept anymore. It was proof of continuity.
The Hit List demo video project happened while those fall sessions were still in motion, which forced a different kind of focus. It was one of the first video projects I had worked on in quite some time, at a point when the business had been living primarily in still photography. That project woke up a muscle I hadn’t fully flexed in a while and reframed how I think about my work, not as a photography brand that occasionally does video, but as a visual production engine that can shift formats without losing its voice.
Between the fall sessions and what came next, another door opened. I stepped into a new partnership as social media manager for the Pittsburgh Concert Society, bringing together strategy, visual storytelling, and a deep respect for live performance. It expanded the scope of the business at exactly the moment things were accelerating. I started with some social promotion of their final Major Audition Winners' concert on November 2, which I also photographed.
That momentum carried directly into the Frick holiday mini sessions. Between sessions, I was also photographing on site, including moments with Santa and the visitors to the Frick. One of those moments took on a life of its own and later became the story I titled Fuel-Injected Santa: A Clause I Didn’t Plan For.
After the Frick wrapped, the year still wasn’t done asking for attention. I took on work for a non-profit consulting firm, shifting gears again and applying the same clarity and storytelling to a very different kind of project. From there, I was back in motion with the Pittsburgh Steeline, capturing the physical intensity and shared energy of performance with a crowd of thousands.
The year closed the way it so often does for me—in a performance space with a camera in hand. A holiday concert photo shoot for Mellon Middle School in Mt. Lebanon brought everything back to music, students, and shared moments on stage. A quieter ending, but not a small one. Friendly faces on stage and off attended the event, and many of them were even clients of mine at one time or another.
There were days this fall when everything arrived at once. Family logistics, Duquesne responsibilities, business deadlines, band rehearsals, all competing for attention without space or mercy.
It was navigable, yes. But it was also relentless.
In earlier years, that kind of pressure would have cracked me. This time, it didn’t. Not because the load was lighter, but because the foundation underneath it was stronger. Systems held and decisions came faster. And most importantly, the work didn’t suffer.
As 2025 wraps up, it’s clear that despite the intensity, everything felt solid in a way that wasn’t fragile or performative. It’s the kind of foothold that feels strong enough to take another step forward.
2026 isn’t a restart. It is that next step.
