During every family gathering, celebratory dinner, or holiday, multiple, large photo albums would find their way out of the hallway closet and into someone’s lap. Growing up, these large photo albums were my tie to a world that was vastly different from my own and was almost the only world I would know.

Despite immigrating at a young age, I remained close to the family I could barely remember. Photos of my cousins and I dressed as matryoshkas, of my brother and I at our 돌잔치 (doljanchi), of my parents on their wedding day were followed by the stories behind them. My parents and grandparents reminisced on

the memories of a world behind us countless times, sometimes retelling the story so many times I could recite them on my own.

The photos that accompanied my youth shaped my connection to my identity and to the people in my life. That’s what drives me to do what I do today.

My hope is that the memories you make and the memories I’m privileged to document will become more than just pictures on a piece of paper or a screen. I hope that these stories can become a part of the heirlooms you’ll have to pass on to your older selves and to those who are blessed to walk this life with you.

when you look back on these photos, I hope the same spark of joy will light up your eyes the same way you did on the day you experienced these happy moments. 

I hope that the photos will be housed in albums that will, inevitably, take up far too much real estate in your NYC apartment (but never enough room in your heart).

I hope that, one day, while your memories might not longer be as vivid as they once were, the nostalgia these photos bring will remain sharp and bright.