Disclaimer: I have no idea what is going on...like ever

The story of how I became a photographer...I guess

Hi! This is me

Part I: What Are We Even Talking About?

When people ask me how I became a photographer, I never know the right way to answer that question. I could give the most boring short answer: “Well, you know, I just kinda fell into it.” Or I could give them my life story and painful summary of the last 5 years of my life and how it all fell apart. I usually land somewhere in the middle and gloss over the crazy parts and pretend that I don’t see the person’s eyes widen when they say, “I am so sorry.”

This story is not meant to gain sympathy. My goal is not to throw a pity party. I simply want to tell people that I have no idea how I got here and how cool it is. How life can work out despite all the circumstances. This story is meant to inspire, to teach, to start a conversation, and to introduce myself.

So, with that being said - hi! My name is Tessa. And I have no idea what is going on…like ever.

Part II: My Cool Childhood

Growing up, I lived in a household of artists. Both of my parents went to art school, my sisters loved being creative, and I would try any medium I could get my hands on. My mom was a full-time artist my entire life. Looking back, I realize how big of an impact that had on me fundamentally. My mom put together art shows, wrote books, traveled the country, and never cared what people thought of her art because she loved it. And people went crazy over it.

Every time she would take me with her to the art store to stock up on supplies, I would be hyper-fixated on a new type of art form. This ranged from things like polymer clay jewelry, realism charcoal drawing, colored pencil illustrations, bracelet making, acryla gouache painting. She would always buy me the supplies I wanted on one condition: I had to finish a piece and give it to her. That way it wasn’t a waste and it motivated me to see a project through.

One thing I always kept coming back to was photography. I would use any device I could get my hands on. The family digital camera from 2009, my 2012 flip phone, my sister’s boyfriend’s nice camera, my iPod touch, etc. I can’t tell you if any of these photos were any good, they have been lost to the digital wasteland (probably for the best). But the important thing was that I loved it. And I couldn’t stop.

Part III: My Very Own Camera

When I was about 17, I started taking photography seriously (as a hobby). My senior photos were taken by a girl in my high school (shoutout Leanna) who I then considered my mentor and idol (side note, Leanna is an insane fashion photographer in NYC now and still a friend to this day. She’s literally the coolest. Okay, that’s all). I would borrow my dad’s Canon Rebel t7i that he used for nature photography to do Instagram photoshoots that were designed around the 2016 VSCO aesthetic. Sarah, my next door neighbor, and I spent hours upon hours crafting Pinterest-style shoots and posting them to Instagram. And people started noticing. And suddenly, I was taking photos of my friends for their senior photos. And that somehow turned into me becoming the official high school marching band photographer after I graduated. After my first year of being an entrepreneur, I finally bought my very own Rebel t7. . . and quickly realized I wanted something even better.

Don’t get me wrong, that little rebel was my companion in life and got me far. But my eye was on the prize for a 5D Mark IV. To me, that was the holy grail. And the ultimate next level in my favorite hobby (I was still convinced I wanted to be an engineer…oh tessa). I was almost at my goal when, one day, I was talking with my mom about it and she said she would cover the rest so I could get it before the new year. And so, in December of 2019 (now a film student), I was the proud owner of my very own Canon EOS 5D Mark IV. And that was when everything changed.

One of my very first photoshoots with Sarah.

Part IV: The World Shuts Down and I am a Film School Dropout

Soon after I get my brand new, shiny camera, I decide that I am going to drop out of film school to pursue sound design and music production, hoping to work in the film industry. I kid you not, the WEEK after I call my advisor and tell her I’m going to leave after the spring semester, COVID-19 hits and the world shuts down. And I pick up my camera. And I start taking self portraits out of pure boredom. It’s only April at this point. And I just never stopped after that.I start working as a barista and taking photos for the coffee shop. I keep taking senior photos. I pick up my camera almost every single day at this point. And I absolutely love it. But don’t worry, it’s still just a hobby.

One of my first self portraits, inspired by a Mango Street Video.

Part V: The World Opens Up Around Me While Mine Crumbles

I’m sure you’re thinking, “Tessa, this story isn’t sad at all so far.” Don’t worry, this is where it takes a turn.

Spring of 2021. The world is slowly opening back up. I have bangs and purple hair now. I secretly got my first tattoo on the living room floor of a friend’s house while listening to Mac Miller. I have a boyfriend of over a year. The sound program I planned on attending wants me to start soon. I feel like I’m really finding myself. And life is so good.

Until it isn’t.

After my mom’s 50th birthday in February, she started to experience weird physical issues. She slept all the time, started losing feeling in her left side, and nothing made her feel better. Soon after, she was diagnosed with grade 3 Anaplastic Astrocytoma a.k.a. a brain tumor. Right in the center of her brain. Where they could not operate. And suddenly my whole life flipped upside down.

I told the sound program I couldn’t attend and they said I would have to reapply for all my scholarships if I ever changed my mind down the road. It broke my heart, but I had to do it. I continued working as a barista until suddenly I was my mom’s caretaker. I spent the 21st year of my life in hospitals, visiting doctors, administering pills so strong I had to use gloves, witnessing the ins and outs of the medical world and cancer treatment. Things a 21 year old shouldn’t have to do. I slept on a couch so my mom could sleep in my bed because it logistically made more sense. My home was a terminal of dozens of people coming through every single day. And I was in my personal hell. I had never been so depressed in my whole life.

As my mom was getting a bit better and I started to gain a routine, I started taking on more and more photo gigs. It was perfect because I would only be gone for a few hours and then could come home to continue taking care of things. In November of 2021, my mom was improving and I had the opportunity to shoot my very first concert. Pinegrove at the Agora. I was terrified and excited and it was the best experience of my life that randomly fell into my lap. Music photography was always on my bucket list, but I never knew how I was going to get there. That night I got a taste of it. And I knew I needed to do it again. But I didn’t know how.

Pinegrove at the Agora - my very first photo pass.

Part VI: Grief at a Punk Show

December had been such a good month. But the beginning of 2022 was my literal nightmare. After being broken up with by my boyfriend of 2 years, my mom went into hospice. For 2 months, I watched her fade away. The woman who taught me everything about art and life was dying in front of me. And in that stage of my life, I created some of my most meaningful art. And finally started facing the gravity of it all.

I did a photoshoot around the color scarlet. I was inspired by the song and music video for “King” by Florence + the Machine. I spent 3 hours taking self-portraits while my mom was downstairs slowly slipping away. And this series gained a lot of attention. One image in particular. The one I call “Silent Scream”.

^ my self portrait - “Silent Scream”

At 11:55pm on April 19th, 2022 my mom passed away. It was just me and my father there. It didn’t feel real at all. It felt like I was made of glass and had been knocked off a shelf, shattering into a million tiny pieces. I called my sisters to come over. I don’t remember them arriving. I don’t remember sleeping or waking up the next day. I do remember being so numb, so in shock, so full of adrenaline.

I needed to do something. So, I grabbed my phone and texted my friend Jordan, whose band was playing at a little punk club the night after she passed. I told him I was coming to photograph the show. I grabbed my camera and went on my way. He, of course, tried to convince me to not come. A few friends joined along for the adventure, probably all a bit concerned about me and the giant smile on my face. But nothing was going to stop me. I wasn’t afraid anymore. And that was the night I became a music photographer.

^ one of my favorite shots of Jordan from his show

Part VII: Baristas, Dive Bars, and Food Photography Studios

After my mom’s funeral, I realized I had no direction. I was floating in this sea of limbo waiting for an opportunity to pass me by. Surprisingly, it did.

My friend Gina and I walked into a coffee shop by her home and the cool-looking barista with long hair, overalls, and all sorts of tattoos looks at me with wide eyes and goes, “Omg, you’re Tessa! You take photos! You shot my cousin’s band!” And I just kind of stared at him as if I was a ghost and he was the only person in the room that could see me. I had never been recognized in public like that for my photography. He and I soon became friends and suddenly I was going to his band’s shows with my camera. And this turned into throwing myself headfirst into the local music scene. My normal weekend evening was spent at a different dive bar with my camera watching bands play and just simply meeting people. It’s easy to get in once you meet a few people and show up to shows on a regular basis.

As I started building my music portfolio, I landed an internship at an esteemed food photography studio in Cleveland. I knew nothing about food photography. But I was recommended and I was willing to try. And I am positive I was one of their worst interns. They were so patient with me as I learned and was also experiencing the first few months of grief. I felt like I was walking through a tide made of cement. I was forgetful and distracted, still trying to comprehend the last year of my life and its outcome. By the end of the internship, I had a portfolio of portraits I took in their studio instead of platters and spreads. But it turned my life around. And I am so grateful for that.

And I am absolutely positive I do NOT want to be in food photography, but I have so much respect for it.

^ a portrait of Ryan, the barista who recognized me - taken at the food photography studio I interned at.

Part VIII: Feeling Stuck and a Cheese-Named Studio

This is where I really have no clue how I ended up here. After my internship, I became the assistant to a successful orchestra photographer and helped him declutter his giant studio. I was pretty miserable and feeling lost at this point, not sure what my next big step was going to be. Still held in the clutches of grief and trying to scrape myself up off the pavement of life. I kind of wandered through the months of September-December. I barely even remember them at this point.

On January 2nd, 2023, I stepped foot into a place called Cheddar Studios. I don’t even remember how I ended up there. But, it changed everything. I was set to be acting for them in some advertisements (I was desperate, okay?). I walked in and was greeted by a crew of guys my age, some of which were attending the same film school I had previously dropped out of.

I spent 6 hours there, chatting with them about building a community and starting a weekly program to bring people together. I started going back a few times a week until I was there every single day. We started the community event The Collective that was every Tuesday at 7pm. We brought in dozens of different creatives who all had fascinating stories and skills. And some beautiful art and friendships were created out of it.

While I didn’t technically work for Cheddar, I would exchange production design work for free studio time. This included helping build and tear down a giant rotating commercial film set, installing flooring, and using all sorts of random skills I have collected over the years. (But we don’t talk about the time I sanded off part of my finger).

IX: Taping Flowers to Chairs and Hanging Out With Yungblud

I made a lot of connections through Cheddar Studios, including a couple that led me to where I am now. I worked closely with the musician Jack Harris, whose father is the CEO of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum. We were always coming up with random photoshoots - from taping flowers to a chair, filling fish tanks with food coloring, screaming into the abyss, dumping buckets of paint on his head, and covering entire walls with fake newspapers.

Jack and the flower chair

Seemingly impressed by my skills, his dad informed me of a photography fellowship at the Rock Hall that summer and that I should look into it and apply. Don’t be fooled, his dad didn’t just give me the fellowship, I went through the whole process and built a portfolio, wrote an application essay, and interviewed with another candidate before finding out that I was going to be working at a music institution for the summer. Taking photos. I instantly knew my life was about to change.

That summer was filled with photos of famous artifacts and meeting people like Pat Benatar and Yungblud (who then invited me to his show and I hung out with his crew backstage and ate charcuterie in the pouring rain). And that was when I knew for sure - music photography is what I am supposed to be doing.

Yungblud at Jacob’s Pavilion

Part X: This is What I Have Been Training For

This is the last section, I swear!

After that summer, I managed to get my fellowship extended all the way through the end of 2023. In that time, I started taking on more graphic design projects (I am not a graphic designer) and working in the exhibits department (I have no idea how I got here). While making connections and building a portfolio, though, my reach outside of the rock hall has been steadily growing. This has lead me to photographing my favorite band (shoutout half alive) and starting to move towards my ultimate goal of being a tour photographer.

I have gotten close before, but the logistics have never worked out. But I am being patient and remembering that only 2 years ago, I had no idea if I would ever be shooting any venue larger than a dive bar. And 4 years ago, i thought I would be working in the film industry.

In January of 2024, I started full-time as an exhibit designer at the Rock Hall (trust me, I have no clue either) where I have literally spray painted graffiti and stolen Sharpies off of desks to write on the walls of the museum for the sake of an exhibit. I have met incredible musicians like Shirley Manson, Malina Moye, Jane Wiedlin, Lisa Loeb, and Suzanne Vega, who were all part of the opening for my first big exhibit “Revolutionary Women in Music: Left of Center”. I sewed 15 foot-long scarves for Bon Jovi himself to see in his own personal exhibit. I just finished making a 16 foot-long digital collage today for an exhibit about the year 1984 and its influence on pop music. I have held Kurt Cobain’s guitar pedal, John Lennon’s Epiphone guitar, Hayley Williams’ dress, and a handwritten note from Janis Joplin.

I am so incredibly grateful to be here. To be alive. To have my camera. To have met so many incredible people. To be paid for my creativity. To capture moments of my favorite artists. To be a part of something bigger than me. There are so many bits and pieces I also left out for the sake of not writing a novel-length post. I have so many people to thank and credit, which I will make more entries about in the future. If you’re sad I didn’t include you in this, that probably means you are getting a special indie kid blog post.

Despite all of it, life is still so beautiful. Loss and grief have taught me so much about living in the present moment. Taking risks. Saying yes to things. Cherishing human connection. Never giving up.

Let’s be real, though. I still have no idea what is going on.