Why I Take Photos the Way I Do

I don’t take photos the way most people expect.

Some of the images I share were taken years ago—before everything changed.

When I could move freely, stay out longer, chase the light without thinking twice.

And some of them are taken now.

On good days, I can get out for a little while.

On other days, I’m sitting in my car, camera in hand, shooting out the window because that’s what my body allows.

I live with CRPS in my foot, hemiplegic migraines, and a traumatic brain injury—CRPS limits my ability to walk, and the migraines and brain injury can take my speech, my vision, and my ability to move.

There was a long stretch where I couldn’t do much of anything. Where even speaking or forming a full thought wasn’t something I could rely on.

This—what I’m creating now—didn’t exist for years.

It came after learning how to come back into my own body and mind again, piece by piece.

That became the standard I held myself to:

When I can, I will.

When getting out into the woods wasn’t always possible due to endometriosis and multiple surgeries, my mom helped me build a garden in my front yard. That’s where a lot of my photography began to shift—learning that by being still—not always by choice—and looking closely, nature reveals itself.

There are moments where I pull over just to take a photo because I know I won’t get another chance. And there are times where I push for one shot, knowing I need to make it home before my body shuts down.

That’s the part people don’t see.

My work isn’t built on perfect conditions.

It’s built on limits—and what I choose to do anyway.

Some images come from a time when I had more freedom. Some come from learning how to keep creating without it.

But every photo—no matter when or how it was taken—comes from the same place:

Paying attention.

Seeing what’s there.

Not letting the moment pass.

Born Coastal came out of that.

Not from everything being easy, but from refusing to stop seeing the world just because my body changed.

This is how I create now—

not from the perfect angle, but from the one I can reach.

And if you’ve ever had to rebuild yourself just to do the things you love again, you already understand why that matters.

— Amanda “Celebrate the Wild”

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