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I photograph couples and families who want to enjoy the experience as much as the photos — and walk away with images that, years from now, still remind them of exactly how it felt.
 

Hi, I’m Kayla.

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On wedding days, I know when to hang back and let a moment breathe, and I know when to jump in. I'll be belly laughing with your bridesmaids during getting ready, sneaking a quiet portrait of your grandparents during cocktail hour, and somehow already in position when the dancefloor completely falls apart in the best way. The love, the chaos, the tears, the hugs, the shared glances across the room, the grief, the joy, the sense of belonging — I'm here for all of it.

I'm paying attention, always. But I'm not a ghost. I'm a person who genuinely loves being there.

By the end of the night, I always walk away thinking the same thing: damn, I really love people.

 

 
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I've had a camera in my hands for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I ran around with my mom's old Polaroids and a point & shoot, photographing my friends and our adventures. Later, I found myself in dimly lit music venues photographing bands, learning how to move through chaos without missing what mattered. There were no second chances in those rooms. You had to anticipate the moment before it arrived.

That instinct has stayed with me.

The first couple who ever hired me for a wedding found me through my concert photography — a cool, unconventional pair who met at a show in Hawaii and wanted nothing to do with traditional wedding photography. Small ceremony, reception in a studio, a Hawaiian food truck, their own playlist on a loop. They wanted someone with good taste and no interest in following the rules. I was just 18, and I said yes immediately.

I've been chasing that energy ever since.

My grandparents' love shaped the way I see the world.

The way they cared for each other was soft, steady, and deeply devoted. Not always quiet — they were both Puerto Rican, and if you know, you know — but never performative. It lived in the small things. The way my grandfather would reach for her hand without looking. The way she made sure he always had what he needed before he asked.

They both passed within the last few years, and I miss them dearly.

Photographing love now feels like honoring them. Like preserving the kind of tenderness that doesn't always announce itself, but changes you forever. When I'm at a wedding, I'm not just thinking about how it looks right now. I'm thinking about the photographs someone will hold decades from now. The ones that will outlive us. The ones that will say: this is how we loved.

 

Them, photographed at their wedding.

How I remember them. Photographed by me, in their home.

 

 

a few other things about me —

Central Florida Native / Aries Sun, Leo Moon, Aquarius Rising / Queer / Neurodivergent / Part-Time Floral Designer / Cozy Video Game Enthusiast / Home Chef / Cat Mom to Aggie

current favs: giant plushies, an abundance of candles, my kindle, my emotional support water bottle covered in stickers, road trips, snail mail, and an iced blueberry latte.

favorite movies: Almost Famous, The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, Midsommar, Short Term 12, Howl's Moving Castle, and 50 First Dates (basically all of my moods in one list).

favorite shows: Lost, Over The Garden Wall, Law & Order SVU

favorite food: krab rangoons and anything I can throw in a bowl.

 

 

If any of this resonated with you, I have a feeling we're going to get along really well.

Being photographed asks you to be seen — and I don't take that lightly. I'd love to hear about you and what you're celebrating.