Photographing the moon has become a kind of ritual for me. I have always loved the night sky, I find it grounding and mysterious, and photographing it encourages me to be creative as I attempt to portray its essence.

It starts with looking up, something I am prone to do anyway, when I have a camera in my hand. Sometimes I sort of plan these moon captures, checking moonrise times, the moon phase, and weather. Other times, I stumble across it unexpectedly—a sliver of light hanging above the trees—like last night when I stepped outside before bed, or in winter, when the full moon is so bright and the sky so clear that it casts luminescent shadows across fallen snow.

Either way, I’m grabbing my camera.

Throughout the year, and many years at that, I’ve photographed the moon in its different phases and in every season. In winter, the light is cool and the moon seems sharper, suspended in a stark sky. Spring brings a softer light, often framed by budding trees or drifting clouds. Summer moons, full and warm, rise later and set as the sun rises, making for some interesting skies. One of my favorite moon photos, Strawberry Moon, surrounded by pink tinged clouds, was taken near dawn in June 2020. Lastly, in autumn I’m obsessed with capturing the big full harvest moons, orange and low on the horizon..

These moon photographs are less about technical perfection and more about capturing a sense of artistry and essence. There’s a stillness that settles in when you stand beneath the moon and stars, a kind of quiet reverence. Night skies have a certain magic to them, and that’s what I’m always seeking to capture through the lens.

As the night sky shimmers above, I’m not just seeing—I’m taking in the stillness, the light—the vastness. I hope these photographs, in their own quiet way, hold a trace of the moon’s magic and wonder.