After researching their social media video, branding assets, and tone, I created a textured, cinematic campaign for their viewing, and now yours!

Air Angel: A Love Story. Directed, edited, and starring Eva Woolridge.

Song: I Want to Lay with You, by Shira Small.

I’ve been living in the woods this last month, recentering myself on what matters. Solitude, friendship, generosity, storytelling, and a reciprocal relationship with the natural world.

The book Braiding Sweetgrass has been calling my name since I was first introduced to it in 2024 by my spiritual sister , but I did not answer until this month. Each passage written by Robin, delicately and so vulnerably intertwined with the experiences of her life and the spiritual teachings of nature, is the grounding my soul has been yearning for. A memoir of her career as a botanist woven together with her lineage in the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, this book reminds us where to place our focus. In the appreciation and protection of the natural world around us, and all the teachings that Mother Earth is now demanding of us to listen to.

As of late, I have felt small, driven by a scarcity mindset, and comparing my success to my peers, in awe of how they managed to navigate the cruel game of capitalism and reach financial success—as if that is the true marker of success. I fell into the hole, frustrated that my photography career, which has given me respect and notoriety for my service to my communities, of documenting life and vulnerability, was not translating to my bank account.

The feeling of stagnation when faced with a sudden realization that my friends have begun buying million-dollar homes and, at the very least, earning six figures, while my card was declined when taking the subway as I was still waiting on my net-30 check.

My resentment began clouding my sincere celebrations of my friends’ achievements, and I was beginning to lose myself in the “it’s not fair, why not me,” which is a disgusting shade of green I never want to wear. I felt like all the success of exhibitions, gallery shows, print sales, and recognition was becoming a mockery as I struggled to pay for groceries.

I had spent years developing my ritual of writing my gratitudes each morning, often with my cat Kava by my side, sitting on the stoop with a cup of coffee. My perfect way to start the day. And this summer, I couldn’t bring myself to feel gratitude.

I put all my eggs in a basket of a prospective job with a beauty company that was looking for a videographer who specialized in documentaries—and I made it all the way to the founder’s interview. This was going to be a $125k annual salary, and a job to expand my portfolio and leave behind nightlife with a thank you. As I centered my energy on optimism and manifestation, that this was the job for me—the first thing I had listed for what I would use the money for was to provide gifts to over ten of my friends and family who have supported me emotionally and financially; returning my gratitude monetarily after all these years. When I didn’t get the job, this was where I was crushed. I felt as if I’d stay the charity case I saw myself as, and no amount of gratitude journaling would fix this.

And this was what I was angry about. The words like “charity case” as if being of community, asking for support, or relying on loved ones is seen as a bad thing. These were the teachings of capitalism and classism I want to unlearn. I needed a new environment that can remind myself of the gifts I cherish.

“You can’t listen to the Thanksgiving Address without feeling wealthy. And while expressing gratitude seems innocent enough, it is a revolutionary idea. In a consumer society, contentment is a radical proposition. Recognizing abundance rather than scarcity undermines the economy that thrives by creating unmet desires. Gratitude cultivates an ethic of fullness, but the economy needs emptiness. The Thanksgiving Address reminds you that you already have everything you need.”

I spent my August upstate in the mountains of Liberty, NY, Kingston, the village of the Catskills, and then deeper into the woods of Shandaken. With Braiding Sweetgrass in one hand and my film camera in the other, I spent my days in freshwater creeks, dancing with the dragonflies as they mated, away from people, and rediscovering my foundation. This was wealth, an escape to sanctuaries that were available to me because I nurtured the relationships with people who are generous, community-oriented, and value me for who I am, not what I have. I was wealthy in the fresh produce, its appearances vibrant in colors of greens, reds, blues, and yellows, which provided me nutrients in my Heirloom tomato sandwiches made with love. Fresh, nutritious, grounding. Thank you.

I laughed while lost in the chirping of birds and chatter of crickets, finally hearing my heart that was diluted from the city. A spider completed its descent from the branch above me onto my shoulder, and I screamed, dropping my camera mic in the water in the process. After brushing away the webs from her climb, I shrugged my shoulders knowing that the money will come and I’ll be able to purchase another mic. The grounding was working.

Yes, there are changes I want to make in my career; I still want to earn more money for my creative projects; I still want to complete my transition out of nightlife, but rather than out of desperation and burnout, delivered with a bow and gratitude for all the opportunities nightlife has given me. Upstate, I realized that the discomfort I’m feeling isn’t really about money; it’s about grieving during this transition. The old stories of struggle, scarcity, and being a burden were narratives I was no longer subscribing to and had to permit myself to let go of. That it’s time to give myself a promotion, to move away from stagnation and elevate myself. If there isn’t a path, make one yourself and trust that our needs will be provided for.

That the path to success isn’t grabbing at anything in front of you; it’s to be quiet, reflective, and intentional, sorting through our past passions of childhood as a blueprint, to develop our skills to transform those passions into heart-led careers. Every day I am trying to figure it out, and continue to create a comfortable life for myself and my family, all guided by having excitable goals, and staying disciplined and focused to make those goals a reality. Mother Earth provides, as long as we remember that we are wealthy in choices and it’s our responsibility to give to one another. Gratitude: a gift.

All the experimentation, high production value, and studio equipment I have come from brands that have sponsored me. I have developed my skills as an artist from these relationships.

I want to share with you how I’ve developed my network with these outstanding photography company brands, and how you can begin your development of brand sponsorship.

And! For the brands watching! I am excited to work with you ;-)

This next phase of the documentary, post-production, is exciting and terrifying at the same time. We are still raising money to reach our goal of $75,000 to make sure we can create the best movie we can.

You can find the link to our GoFundMe riiiiight here. We have reached 69% of our goal! How exciting!!!

And, to toot my own horn, I’m pretty proud of my quick little video edit. Finding the joy of experimenting with editing design :-)

I will note: I added the end credits via Canva, and I did not know there was this ugly jingle at the end. My apologies. See! We are learning together!

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There is something so rejuvenating to find refuge in Black spaces. I’ll speak for myself: I live my everyday fighting against centering whiteness, whether I realize it in real time or reflect upon it later. And before I receive any huffs and puffs, I am speaking from my own experience, and at the end of each day, I feel fatigued, asking myself, “Had I spent my day being authentically unapologetically Black?”

My reflection on peace came this morning, after my morning meditation, grounded atop a soft woven carpet, and smelling Palo Santo incense. As I currently sit in the library of Powerhouse Residency, surrounded by black literature through the ages, I smile in wonder and am moved to write. I guess that’s the point of a residency--a place to rest, where your thoughts can gather, and you can be all who you are, all at once.

Powerhouse residency is a cabin in the woods, upstate in a small, mountainous town called Liberty, New York. This residency is an extension of a nonprofit founded by writer and educator T’ai Ford. When you look at it from the front, it looks like a small, asymmetrical cabin in the woods--the exterior walls painted black, and surrounded by greenery. And then you walk into this expansive, naturally lit, earthly toned designed home and your jaw will drop, as mine did. I was in awe, and I was welcomed by every aspect that makes Black culture so riveting, so delicious, so spiritual, and such a vibe that people spend generations trying to bottle up, package, and sell, never quite replicating the original.

First, I must mention the top-tier sound system, with a collection of music all across the African and Caribbean Diaspora, from Michael Jackson and Quincy Jones, to Grace Jones, and Brazilian rockstars like Seu Jorge and Almaz, and Puerto Rican guitarists like Jose Feliciano. There was even a shoutout to the allies, like Fleetwood Mac sprinkled in the mix.

Colorful art decorates all the white walls of different textures, and artifacts that connect Black Americans to their African roots, like the handmade broom gallery wall. Or editorial photography of dark skin, textured with the softest furs, and paintings that you would see at The Whitney. There was even prints from my favorite book and largest inspiration, Soul, by photographer Thierry Les Goues, whose work I spoke about in many interviews.

And then there are the books...and they are everywhere, decorating the home in their own right and wisdom. And the collections, all intersectional, some as historical pieces, and others as must-reads right now. I look up as I type, and make eye contact with Impressions: Centenary Exhibition, The New Painting: Impressions 1874-1886, and Black Gotham. I see new works like Black Futures by Kimberly Drew and Jenna Wortham and Zadie Smith, mixed in with Roots by Alex Haley, The Music of Black Americans, The New York Negro, Black English, and Middlesex,

, blended with Octavia Butler. There are books on African Folk Tales, Black Rage, BlackFace and White Noise. Every identity who’s had a relationship with Black people is represented. Is there even enough time in the world to read this collection!

There is a space to the back, surrounded by forest, known as the smoking room, and i can promise you it’s more green than you think, weed-friendly. Is weed not your jam? Don’t worry, there is a full bar open for use. Do you like to munch? Well, guess what, there is a fully stocked snack drawer, spice drawer, and a fridge full of different ice creams. All for the residents’ enjoyment.

The textures, the colors, the vibes, the intentionality--this place is rejuvenation done the Black way. An invitation to step barefoot, ground yourself in soft, warm fur, and hard, cool marble. To feel cozy, cushioned, and with enough space to dream. That’s what T’ai saw in this place. It was when she looked up at the skylight and saw the clouds that she said it felt like enough space for a person to dream. This magical space is a place of care. It’s aesthetic, and beauty is an invitation to inspire, to focus, and to remember who you are as you create your next gift to the world.

Yesterday, a notable content creator and one of my favorite socio-political activists, Christina Brown, made a post, vulnerably sharing her remembrance of her older sister Kiri’s passing. Just 10 years ago, Kiri died from birth-related complications. Another life taken, affirming the statistics that Black women are 3x as likely to die as white women from birth-related complications in the United States. Christina’s retelling and grief of her sister’s passing is heartbreaking, and all too common. This is one of the many reasons my team and I made our film In These Hands: The Black Birthworkers Documentary.

Within the decade of advocating for body autonomy and improved reproductive health policy, all I hear is loss. A black woman not being listened to, her desires and needs not being advocated for, and with what solution? Just “oh well,” as if nothing could be done to stop this neglect. All I had heard within the reproduction space was this statistic, with no solution.

I didn’t see a solution until I sat on a panel with a Black midwife in 2021, Stephanie from New Jersey. I was introduced to a small glimpse of the history and contributions of Black Lay-Midwives and their resistance during the antebellum period, and of today. One solution is Birthworkers— healers whose job is to prioritize the mind, body, and spirit of the birther, a once sacred practice threatened with erasure now more than ever.

This was the seed that is now In These Hands: The Black Birthworkers Documentary. This film is about our 8,000-mile journey across the United States, interviewing Black midwives, doulas, historians, and mothers on the history and influence of Black birthworkers and their contributions in reproductive justice work today.

Our fight for policies that protect Black birthers, within a system that abuses us, is a long one, but I created this film to lean toward a solution.

Although our 30-day social media campaign to market our GoFundMe page is complete, our crowdfunding page is still very much so, active until we reach our goal of $75,000. We are currently at $30,300. Your donations will help us finish our film’s post-production (editing, color grading, music). We ask you to please send our GoFundMe page to our network directly (peer- peer pressure:-D)

And, donate to our film. (This is the link)

The momentum for the need for our film is a necessary one; help us bring it to the masses.

Subscribe now

I HAVE LEARNED that fundraising is not for the meek. It’s uncomfortable to put yourself “out there,” to shake every table and ask hardworking people with conviction for their donations toward a project six years in the making. “Trust me, you want this just as badly as I do.” As the world feels more and more out of our control, I want to point you and your pockets toward a project that settles you back into equilibrium. To assure you that your money is going toward helping the community, rather than hurting it.

In These Hands: The Black Birthworkers Documentary follows three Queer Black filmmakers on an 8,000-mile journey across the country to interview Black midwives, doulas, mothers, historians, and reproductive justice leaders. It confronts a stark reality that Black women in the U.S. are three times more likely to die from childbirth or pregnancy-related complications, and honors the birthworkers fighting to change that. We’re bringing this to the world alongside Creative Control, the production company behind the award-winning docuseries Jeen-yuhs: A Kanye Trilogy and the award-winning documentary Katrina Babies.

We are a few days short of halfway through our 30-day campaign, and have raised more than $12,000 already! Help us reach our goal.

1. Donate to the campaign.

2. Forward this to 3 people who need to see it.

DONATE HERE:

Either one moves this forward. Both would mean the world.

April Wins

There is nothing wrong with a happy brag…a humble flex. For April, I am happy to share that I have a lot to be proud of. Out of celebration for Lesbian Visibility Week, my collection, The Sapphic Way, is currently exhibited at The Center, also known as The Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual & Transgender Community Center. Founded in 1983, The Center is a nonprofit organization serving the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender population of New York City a nd nearby communities. My work is featured in the same building as Keith Harring; that is a humble flex. I need to thank my girl Salem, (a talented photographer in her own right) for the opportunity to showcase my work at such a historic landmark.

Me and Salem <3.

ICP (International Center of Photography) Gala

Sometimes I forget how hard I’ve worked to enter these impressive spaces. Last month, I was invited as a guest to the 2026 ICP Gala by Leica President Mike G, and the Leica Gallery NY team. I was at the table with some of the top photographers in the world:

• Albert Watson, who has shot over 100 covers of Vogue and 40 covers of Rolling Stone magazine since the mid-1970s;

• Susan Meiselas is a renowned American documentary photographer known for her vivid color photography, particularly her coverage of the 1970s insurrection in Nicaragua and human rights violations across Latin America.

• I received a summary by one of my friends, a passionate photographer, Greg Hatton, alongside my friend and talent Sara Messinger.

I was able to celebrate my friend , Haruka Sakaguchi, who was honored this year for her Visual and Documentary Photography. I fan girled over Collier Schorr, the recipient of the fashion award, and responsible for my favorite photograph of my crush, Kristen Stewart.

(Yes, I wore the same outfit as The Center opening. Designer, Andrea Iyamah. Thank you to my fashionista friend Paige Goodings for letting me raid your closet).

FUTCH

And of course, we had to show a little nightlife from this past April. I photographed another Futch

For more coverage of my Nightlife work, follow my Patreon

Three years. That’s how long you’ve been in my corner supporting my world travels, photography business deep-dives, and the nightlife gallery. Thank you; your support keeps me wanting to create impactful stories.

So today, I’m coming to you first, with a project six years in the making.

Today, May 1st, I’m launching a 30-day crowdfunding campaign to fund post-production for In These Hands, a documentary film I’ve directed and produced. I need your donation and your voice by donating and sharing this campaign with everyone you know.

In These Hands follows three Queer Black filmmakers on an 8,000-mile journey to interview Black midwives, doulas, mothers, and reproductive justice leaders, honoring centuries of knowledge and the essential role Black birth workers play in keeping Black mothers alive. Because right now, Black women in the U.S. are three times more likely to die from childbirth or pregnancy-related complications. This film exists to change that narrative.

We’re proud to be working alongside Creative Control, the powerhouse production company behind the award-winning docuseries Jeen-yuhs: A Kanye Trilogy and the award-winning documentary Katrina Babies.

This is an early ask, and it’s intentional. I want you in the room before the doors open to everyone else.

Here’s how you can help:

✊🏾 Donate to the campaign starting May 1st: DONATE HERE!

📣 Share it with your friends, family, and colleagues

Six years of work. Thirty days to make it real. And you’ve already been here for all of it.

Thank you for being the foundation.

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I love my stoop, I’m a stoop kid. Anytime of day, or condition, I’ll sit even for a moment to ground with an activity; coffee, tea, a book, the switch, nail polish. I’m sitting on the stoop right now, finishing my long-overdue March essay (it was stuck in drafts, I swear). I treat my stoop like a porch; I like to be elevated like a cat, curious, watching, and engaging with people who pass by.

Perched on my stoop, my eyes follow two girls smoking cigarettes. As they passed, my gaze landed on a pile of dirt. Peeking out from the soil were green shoots of tulip bulbs—the same bulbs my block planted last September. Despite the freezing conditions and whipping blizzards, they endured and finally sprouted. All this is a nod to a volunteer day to beautify the block while connecting with neighbors.

I don’t do it enough. Sit, observe, reflect. No phone in hand. I look ahead of me, and I see three, four, five more bulbs breaking the soil. I see the lessons, the parallels. Those seeds I planted for my projects, those that were planted years ago, are now breaking the surface. The commitment I found in working on my relationship with myself led to a romantic relationship, filled with an exchange of flowers in good evening texts with my partner of ten months.

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In my career, photography was a month of celebration, recognition, and witnessing the seeds I had planted bloom. My parents often remind me to smell the roses when things feel aligned. Advice as old as time, in life, there will be good times and bad times, so make sure you revel in the good times the most. I’d like to add “revel in the good times, as fuel to keep your momentum to finish your projects.” I often procrastinate to celebrate my wins (which is why my newsletters are always delayed), but it’s a practice I continue to try and implement monthly if not daily. What were you grateful for in March? I would love it if you share in the comments, no matter how “big” or “small” they’re all wins.

Broad Strokes At the Leica Gallery in Los Angeles.

When I think of how I wish to live my life as an artist, I envision being flown out to exciting cities to exhibit my artwork, alongside my loves. I am truly fortunate that participating in the Leica Gallery Los Angeles art show Broad Strokes is not the first, nor last, show I’ve participated in, but it gave me newly sentimental feelings. I’ve been so fortunate to travel across the world with my best friends, parents, and godparents for my shows, and this one was a new and equally sentimental gift. This time my girlfriend came, because of course she would :-), and we booked a trip to Los Angeles, followed by a birthday trip in Joshua Tree.

In honor of Women’s Month, curator Paris Chong brought together the works of Mandy Walker, the first woman president of the American Society of Cinematographers, alongside her daughter Ruby Bell, Katarina Benzova, and me, Eva Woolridge. The exhibition highlights how women use photography to tell stories, challenge narratives, explore identity, and capture moments both intimate and expansive.

This was an opportunity for me to showcase new work, titled The Sapphic Way, a collection of my Queer Nightlife photography taken over the last five years. I had the opportunity to invite some of the founders of the events I’ve photographed, from Futch (based in Los Angeles) to Misster Party (shoutout to Amber Valentine), Chlomosexual (Mapso Gang forever), Kiss Your Friends, and Lez Get Physical. I learned a lot in this space, for one, LA is where the money is, and I celebrated that new fact by selling two of my prints at gallery standard prices. To see a red dot signaling SOLD under my print was a delicious feeling I relish in and a feeling I’d like to experience more.

I turned 33. My Jesus Year baby!

In Eva fashion, I did it just right. I hopped off the plane from LA, and the following weekend I gathered with the people I love so much, who’ve witnessed me throughout all my different stages of life, to shake ass, of course. The theme was Zodiac Birth Chart; you had to dress as the zodiac sign that you are becoming. My besties came together to create a balloon popping game with different Eva facts that guests had to answer. Such as “If Eva was on a reality show, what would she go viral for?” Answers included wearing dusty sneakers, eating soy products (allergy), to name a few lol. My brother Austin Dj’d, and my sister from another Kiara bartended, and we all were merry.

Assigned another New York Times Story

I will treat every New York Times assignment with full gratitude! Once again, thank you, Elijah Sinclair Walker, for the opportunity. Headlined “She Wanted Her Hair Done for a Special Day. She Left the Salon in Tears,” I photographed Lauren, A Black woman, who is pushing for changes in the hair industry after claiming in a lawsuit that she and her 7-year-old were turned away from an Ulta Beauty salon in Manhattan because of their hair texture. Read the article here

Lead an Editorial Production

Following up with my photojournalism win, I want to remind you that I started my career working in a studio. My first internship was at Milk Studios, and I was often commissioned for studio portrait sessions when I started freelancing. Coming back full circle, and in celebration of my childhood friend Isabel Klee, book release, I brought a team together to develop, pitch, style, and complete an editorial shoot celebrating her long-overdue success. This was Isabel’s first editorial shoot, and we relished in the nostalgia of where we started to how we’ve grown into the lives we are creating for ourselves. It’s a surreal gift to collaborate with people who’ve known you at different stages in your life, meshed with the friends you work with today. Isabel was ON in front of the camera, channeling her inner America’s Next Top Model (I know that documentary was crazy, and also it greatly influenced my generation for better or for worse). She was schmizing and angling. AH so proud of you Iz. We are excited to share the final project with the world on a fashion cover (shhh) in July.

I want to thank my team, Ashlyn (styling), Isabel (style assistant), Cody (hair), Shannon (make-up), Alex (lighting), and Shakivla (BTS). And we couldn’t have done any of this without Jack Deutsch of APA’s studio. Shout out to Ashlyn for being my sounding board and pitching this project to publications. Alex, I am attached to your hip; my creations don’t seem realistic without your lighting expertise and creativity.

Two Days Later…Black Girl Art Show

Following the success of last year, I am still actively participating in markets to sell my pieces. However, talk about a recession indicator, I had a 77.7% decrease from my previous market, all with the same pricing, and more inventory. It was quite surprising. That said, I learned how to restrategize, prioritize $50 or less at the moment, and see where it goes.

Another show! The Very Next Day!

I exhibited at Overgrowth! Curated by Sheridan Smith, this one-night photography exhibition presented a visual inquiry into the feminine force of becoming; of blooming beyond boundaries. Across documentary and portraiture, the artists photograph a movement of expansion - a growth that defies containment. I showcased my Peach Pit photographs, artistically directed by Paige Goodings, and it was a gift to invite those that particiapted last year to the show. Tickets were limited, and I just found it perfect to bring the crew together again.

1,2,3 Headshots for me!

For those interested in headshots, I have some exciting news! I am offering my headshot services again. A perfect upgrade for LinkedIn! See my beautiful friends Cindy and Matt’s recent headshots, photographed in March.

Thank you for all the opportunities to succeed, be recognized, and celebrated. I am looking forward to more opportunities to connect with my community and receive my flowers.

My relationship with death has always felt at a distance. Last Wednesday, my Dad let me know that my grandmother, Judi, whom I know as Nana, passed away peacefully while in hospice. When I got the news, I paused and then went straight back to work, almost as if it didn’t register. I worked all day, the most productive I’ve been in weeks, all while numb. It was not until I walked out of my house to go to the gym that it hit me…all the memories flooding back to me. I couldn't stop crying throughout my entire workout.

It was my Nana who nurtured me to be the biggest version of myself I can be. A free spirit herself, she taught me that within one life, there are endless lives that can be lived. A Cali girl, by way of Berkley, Nana lived life as a renounced upper-middle-class Black elite turned activist. She was married four times, gifted with the art of witty comebacks, smoked what felt like endless cigarettes a day, and would crush a beer like it was water. She lived her life as an adventure, and stubbornly, no one can tell her otherwise.

Nana was a firecracker. She lived on a boat at one point, belly-danced as exercise, and traveled the world well into her 70s. She never missed a birthday or holiday to gift us something unique. One year, she bought me a ex voodoo doll, and for my brother’s graduation, had a money cake in the shape of a soccer field custom made (literally it was a soccer field that was made out of bills).

Recounting memories of Nana with my Aunt Susan, we laughed at her methods of teaching practical skills. There was one moment mid-day where I shared negotiations with my friend over an apartment, “No washer and dryer, or dishwasher for $2500? I say ask for $2200, and settle for $2300. Walk if they don’t match it.” He responded with “Great idea, I like the way you think.” I laughed because that was the first memory that came to mind after her passing. It was Nana who taught me how to haggle. She loved how much I enjoyed performing, and she said that if I had a dream to dance, I could be an amazing GoGo Dancer. Nana taught me how to play blackjack, and my brother how to play poker. She was gifted with the art of inticrite knitting and taught me at a young age. When I was bullied, I remember visiting her in Florida, where we spent a whole day writing comebacks and disses, to retaliate. Nana taught me that it’s essential for a woman to stand up for herself while not losing her natural charm.

My Nana’s passing is the passing of a matriarch. So much of my personality, the freedom I feel to be my most authentic self, came from her. Not to take others’ bullshit, to stay curious, and to fight for others. She nurtured my admiration for social justice groups like the Black Panthers, and to use photography as a tool for storytelling.

Thank you, Nana, for showing me that life can truly be what you make of it, no matter what cards you were dealt. To celebrate your life, I enjoyed a beer, martini, and a cigarette in your honor.

Gallery Updates

Following up on my letter of love and admiration for my grandmother, I am sure she is pushing me to share that I exhibited in a gallery show this past January with APA. Located at the Soho Gallery for a week, my work “Mother. Mom” was showcased alongside other talented photographers of APA. I believe this is my first New York City show, at least of my recent work of the past 5 years.

Thank you, Zen, for the coverage.

CALLING ALL OF MY LOS ANGELES PEOPLE!

I AM EXCITED TO SHARE! I am participating in a group gallery show at the Leica Gallery in Beverly Hills! This is my first show in Los Angeles, and it’s of my Queer nightlife photography. My series is called The Sapphic Way, and it features nightlife coverage of Futch, Chlomosexual, and Lez Get Physical, all Queer, lesbian centered events. I am excited to step away from my award-winning series Size of a Grapefruit (of which I love and adore), and now give my more recent, documentary photography its glory.

Thank you, Paris Chong, for including me in your show Broad Strokes for Women’s History Month. This is my fourth window display to promote a show I’m in! LIKE?! Is this my life! Yes…yes it is <3.

Lez Get Physical

One of my favorite events of the year, Lez Get Physical, happened last Saturday, and it was once again a blast to cover. What I love about Queer events is the absolute freedom to express yourself, your gender expressions, and essences, with little judgment and always community support. Lez Get Physical is a lesbian oil wrestling event that is sexy, seductive, empowering, and outright freeing. Nana would love an event like this.

See more on my Patreon.

See more on my Patreon.

I want to share with all of you something I have worked on for the last two years. A small piece of a larger project about a personal experience that happened to me at 19, which deeply impacted me, my family, and the trajectory of my art. I have shared one or two parts of my film, but this to me is a piece that forced me to mine into my biggest nightmares.

This is a 10-minute short in a series called Bacchetta Magica (Magic Wand), a film I made during my Villa Lena, Tuscany Residence. I sat on this film that was done for months now, scared that it wasn’t the right time, wasn’t delivered in the right way, and was not complete (which it’s not). To mine from life tragedies to find diamonds is incredibly taxing, emotionally and psychologically.

This is a preview of my larger project that I hope to complete this year. I think by sharing this with my Patreon and Substrack subscribers, it will continue to fuel my fire and help me create the project in its entirety.

Today, people are marching to strike against the kidnapping, manipulation, violence, and lies from the administration, which is on our doorstep. To resist this shift takes courage, compassion, and discipline.

As an independent photojournalist and documentarian photographer, I want to remind you all that your role is necessary to witness, document, and relay the truth of what is happening in our country. Journalist Don Lemon, Trahern Jeen Crews, Georgia Fort, and Jamael Lydell Lundy have been arrested despite their constitutional right to cover as freedom of the press. These are journalists with large followings and support as professionals amongst their peers and community.

When photographing movements, I want to remind you of some conditions and ethics. (Mind you, I am trying to be aware of how to communicate this. )

If one is going to protest:

Protect Yourself.

• Wear neutral clothing to blend in, hide any identifying tattoos, birthmarks jewelery, that won’t expose yourself. Wear masks and goggles, theatrical makeup, or glasses to hide faces from facial recognition.

• Write down phone numbers on your arm for a lawyer, such as the ACLU, family/friend. Inform a point person, or multiple point people, of where you are going and check-in points.

• Communicate through apps like Signal.

• Personally, leave smartphones at home, or turn them off when you are in movement zones, to ensure you’re not tracked.

• Have a buddy to keep tabs on each other, and have each other’s back.

• Weave in and on the sides of protest marches, so in case ops try kettling, “employing a tactic designed to control, contain, and disperse crowds by surrounding them within a confined area. This strategy is generally used to manage large demonstrations by restricting movement, separating protesters, and preventing the spread of disorder, often as a last resort in managing public safety.”

Protect Subjects.

• It is enticing to get the best, most interesting shots when you are documenting conflict, but do not post online images that expose the identity of your subjects. Surveillance units are tracking what is posted online to build cases against protesters.

• This doesn’t mean you can’t document, but do not post their identity online.

• Photo editors, unless given permission, do not use your position to expose these identities. Photographers, you are in the position of submitting these images, and editors, you are in the position of publishing them.

This is happening. So take necesary precaution as you do your duty as a truth teller and documentarian.

If you would like to see examples, follow my Patreon for examples.

Photograph by Eva Woolridge, Rolling Stone, BLM 2020, New York City.

More examples on my Patreon.

And for more in-depth education on the Social Ethics of Photography: How to photograph communities without exploiting them, take my Skill Share class.

It’s 6:13 am, and I wake up to heavy rain tapping against my window. My heart tightens; the disappointment of what was realized yesterday floods my mind. Half asleep, I turn over and grab my Tarot cards to begin shuffling until a card pops out, and I read it with droopy, swollen eyes. “The hermit…same card as yesterday,” no matter how I feel about the result, I always love my deck’s consistency. I fall back asleep to a YouTube explanation of the hermit, “a call to look inward…”

I wake up three hours later, a tad bit more optimistic. As I prepare for my meditation, I shuffle my tarot deck thoroughly and pull another card…”The Unknown (also known as The Judgement Card).” Another card from yesterday. I had pulled six different cards from six different decks and received the same messages in different fonts: “Home, Hermit, Judgement, Space, Reflection, Panther (reversed).” I'm sensing a theme. I exhale in acceptance and frustration. I thought I did this already. I thought I went through the mist, stepped over the hard parts, tripped a bit, but I did make it to the other side, until I see there’s another bend up ahead. Will the turns ever stop?

The answer is no, well, yes, but that’s when you’re dead, and I am so thankfully lucky to be alive. The end of the year is always a forced moment of quiet reflection. Time to look back at all that was experienced in the past year, all the achievements, relationships, connections, and misdirections. This post is my real-time reflection of my year.

People say that 2025 was a hard year for Pisces, but for the most part, it didn’t feel like that was the case. I felt more into myself than I have ever felt before. I was out here, as a sexy host of a cabaret show, had a summer in Europe, and exhibited my photography at a Museum in Madrid. I photographed for The New York Times six times, that’s 5 more than last year, and was the moderator interviewing this year’s winner of the same photo competition that changed my professional life. I sold my first jigsaw puzzle at a retail store called Leroy’s Place. I became a National Board Member of APA, and participated in an art show in New York City. I decided to start selling my work at markets, and three markets later, I have made over 10k!

I witnessed my childhood best friend get married to a beautiful man, and I celebrate my other friends for choosing themselves, one even moving back to New York City. I celebrate another childhood girlie, publishing her first book, and reach 1 milli on TikTok. I coo at my girls who are now parents, and are so graceful as they manage medical spaces and become full-time lawyers. I saw my mom step back into her light and begin hosting her own workshops on self-love development. I was able to connect with my Chinese side of my family-we’re Chinese-ish as our reunion shirt says. I was able to go on a Disney cruise with my long-distance bestie to celebrate the INCREDIBLE voice of her sister, Imani Youngblood. I celebrate one of my wives for moving to a new place with her partner, and my other wife for adopting a sweet new fur baby. I celebrate my friends who have their work published in a magazine for the first time, and witness my other best friend prepare to build his business. I celebrate my brother and his partner for buying their first cabin together upstate!

And throughout it all, I saw myself move through relationships with discernment, groundedness, and tenderness. I fell in love with myself through the eyes of others, and learned that whatever baggage another may have, it does not mean it’s mine to have, but I’m happy to help hold it only for a little while. I saw how much I’ve grown by how I managed experiences. I learned that no matter how much history you may have with someone, it can take only one moment to see clearly that you may not be aligned anymore. And no matter how much love you have for another and each other, as individuals, we have to want change for ourselves, to enjoy the rewards together.

As I write this, I guess this is what “the unknown” looks like. The path of I don’t know how the fuck I’ll get there, but I know the destination. “Reflection, Space and the Ace of Pentacles.” These were the cards I pulled last night. As Nick, Autumn, and Jewel translated, I may be afraid to re-enter the void, the unknown, but there’s a promise on the other side that the path is vibrant, tranquil, and lucrative. I cry as I write this part. Thank you so much to every single person who loves me. Who giggle with me, and listen as I drown their ears with my tears. Who find my eccentricities endearing, and have trusted me as I take up space. Who may have faced my bark, but welcome me back with open arms immediately when I come back to apologize. My community, my little circles, are created from kindness, generosity, listening, inclusion, and authenticity. I know that the road less traveled is less scary because I am guaranteed to find others along the way.

I’m taking 2026 one step at a time, and I know that the changes I’m experiencing at this moment are for me to hibernate, to look inward, so that I can complete the projects that will propel me forward. I look to my left at the avocado plant that I thought was going to die, that I hoped I’d be able to save…and I see the new growth that has replaced the brittle leaves.

Photograph of my photography Mother. Mom, exhibited in New York, Eva Woolridge, 2025

Knicks Watch Party, by Eva Woolridge, New York Times, 2025

Portrait of Taylor Rooks, by Eva Woolridge, New York Times, 2025

Heatwave, by Eva Woolridge, New York Times, 2025

Halloween Coverage of Misster Party NYC, Sexorcist, by Eva Woolridge, 2025

Portrait of Fangs and friend, Misster Party, by Eva Woolridge 2025

Coverage of my work Size of a Grapefruit, at a Museum in Madrid 2025.

Eva Joans, By Eva Woolridge, New York Times 2025.

When I stepped outside of my stoop this morning, the cool autumn breeze painted goosebumps down my arms. I inhale deeply, smile, and exhale, “perfect.” Happy Oct. 1st. To me, a sunny autumn morning is one of nature’s most graceful affirmations of death, grief, and rebirth.

This is not a novelty idea, but it is one we are often surprised by when we are met with grief time and time again. As I write this, I see a crispy leaf lying face down on my windowsill, still green but its vibrancy now dull; its stem a mustard yellow with a broken, brown end. Fall as a season reminds and prepares us that the strong, leafy structures that once shielded us from the piercing summer rays, also grow tired, and lose their footing amongst the branches they once grew into adulthood from, and will fall ever so gracefully down a great height. Their transitions feel like falling from a tower, and I envision it as The Tower tarot card.

This past September, I experienced death, transformation, and grief as a witness rather than a player, all of which were unexpected. The stage was what was going to be an effortless Euro trip starting in Sicily with family friends, followed by a visit to a dear friend in London, a mother-daughter trip to Sweden, and ending with my first museum show in Madrid, Spain, accompanied by my best friend, my mom, and my godmother.

It was on our first full day in Sicily that I faced the first of many waves of grief I’d witness on this trip. This grief came as a result of the death of the physical and the transition into the spiritual. Our collective friend, colleague, and my brother’s business partner, of Please Tell Me, has passed away. We cried together, grieving the loss of a friend and the complicated feelings that come up when there could be such a possibility as a preventable death.

I observed my feelings as they moved within my body. The knowing that everyone grieves differently, and everyone has a role. Sometimes your role will be of a supporter, having gone through your own shadows and dug a well so deep that it can hold the emotional weight of another’s grief…and another…and another.

I quickly found myself in that role throughout the entirety of my trip, and even still. I sat and listened as friends called me, announcing the end of their 8.5-year relationships, deciding to courageously choose themselves, or the heartbreak of discovering infidelity in another’s 6-year relationship, after signing a lease on their first apartment together. I pulled tarot cards for those who were ready to close the door of the possibility of a nuclear family unit, and walked through the Swedish forest floors alongside my mom as we met and stayed with the family of one of her recently passed spiritual soulmates. I stayed present as I saw friendships dismantle, recalibrate, and begin their metamorphosis into anew.

One, maybe two “deaths” to witness is one thing, but a pattern was forming, and I found myself asking why? Why was I close enough to the experience it to speak on it, but not enough to feel the grief myself? Why did I find myself prepared with wisdom I didn’t realize I had to give? I found myself called upon to not be the griever, but the guide to navigate the boat across the river, checking in to make sure all of us passengers are still firmly in the boat.

When I zoom out even further, I see the grief of communities destroyed, structures that we were told would stay firmly rooted, losing their foundation and falling without grace. The relationships between the people and our leadership have become publicly opposing, and we see that the structures once meant to protect and nurture a small few, but disguised to apply to many, has now been unmasked. And there is collective grief that needs to be processed as a result. And then there must be rebirth.

In my personal life, I am now reaping the rewards that come with rebirth. I have explored my darkness and befriended my shadows. I hold hands with them, knowing that they helped me once, but it had been time to shed and molt, and no one can rip that skin off before it’s ready. Transformation is uncomfortable, especially as we are guided to stretch ourselves in a way that once felt impossible. We try to negotiate with the beautiful death angel herself, to keep what was, but she shakes her head knowingly, her beads woven in her braids jingle against each other. She smiles, not maliciously, but humoursly, in all her knowing. She reminds us not to waste time with what was, but gently, if we surrender, we can move the process along faster, and become the alchemist, molding the malleable treasures we find along the way to create a future even more beautiful than what we left behind. All we have to do is trust the process, surrender, and strive for more with optimism, if positive progression is what you want; it’s honestly up to you. It’s up to us.

Our country, the world, is in a collective shedding. The structures aren’t serving us anymore, and we know that to be true now more than ever. The disruption is necessary; facing the shadows leads to wisdom, and then the rebirth is the transformation we make of it. It’s time to become the alchemist. We are witnessing and directly experiencing the destruction and grief of collective philosophies, systems of oppression, and inequalities on a massive global scale. And we are presented with a question: do we want to let those who are misguided by greed, fear, and power guide the ship, or are we ready to take over?

Are we ready to befriend our shadows and make something new? The changes are happening so fast that it feels like we can’t keep up. We notice censorship, escalating, and lives ripped apart. And that grief is painful, but we can’t become numb. We must rally ourselves and see our neighbors as comrades, finding our corner of the room to protect one another, not just for ourselves. We cannot believe the illusion that the walls are closing in on us, and we also can’t ignore the possibility either. We must organize.

Call To Action

To my graphic designers who feel like their creativity is being sucked out of them by corporate greed, we need you. We need your artistic voice through the visual medium; create free posters, and connect to your local business owners. Introduce yourself and hand them out, reminding us all that “ICE AND FASCISM IS NOT WELCOME HERE.”

Photographers and storytellers, who fear that AI will replace them, connect to and protect each other as you go out to rallies and document the abuse of power and the will of the people. Be photojournalists and use the camera to document and help us witness.

Gallery Curators, throw away the work that says nothing, and back artists who are brave enough to vocalize their opinions courageously. Who aren’t afraid of disruption. This is what I said to a Leica curator during the opening of my group show at Centro Cultural de la Villa de Madrid.

Writers, go beyond the clickbaiting headlines and trust the sharpness of your words and cut through the noise. Tell us what you envision in a new, promising world of love, community, authenticity, and vulnerability, and how that manifests.

Illustrators, paint us what that new world looks like, put it down on paper, and inspire others to see your vision too.

Event producers organize gatherings for conversation toward strategy and fundraising, so that we can develop this new world.

Many of us are millennials, the generation of the disrupters who saw the rise of fast technology, and now we also see the effects of it. We have to remember what life was like when it was not attached to surveillance tools in our pockets. Let us not forget the strategies of the not-so-long-ago past: political zines, in-person organizing, international relationship building, and the very real reality that violence might be inflicted upon us as a result of our defiance. That is a real reality, but our right to love exists in our entirety, and for our neighbors to do the same is worth it. We must see ourselves as worthy of the good we envision.

The community organizing of the Civil Rights movement that we learned in school looks different now. We have to detach ourselves from the resources that make us complacent. We don’t need the new iPhone that is directly linked to slave labor in the Congo. We don’t need to follow fashion trends that pollute our waters and the microplastics ingested by the fish we eventually eat. We are hurting ourselves by the distractions produced by Capitalism. Use the tools needed to innovate a cleaner, more collaborative future.

The difference in how we grieve “leaders”

There is irony in finding some people grieving the “free speech” (or many would say hate speech that manifests in the actual physical violence toward oppressed communities), embodied in a person like Charlie Kirk. Mind you, some of these people are ones I was surprised by, people I call friends who claim to see themselves in Charlie Kirk (where I actually choked on my water when reading). A person who created a platform on HATE, and in turn, there’s a movement to make him a martyr. I am trying to find grace with a claim like this, but it’s eye-opening.

And within the same month, we see the passing of Black Revolutionary Assata Shakur. Ms. Shakur was and will always be the symbol of resistance against systemic racism and state violence in the United States. It was an ex-boyfriend of mine, who I found an impressively radical doctor who attended Morehouse, who introduced me to Ms. Shakur’s biography, which changed my life. She was a woman who experienced what many have experienced, sexual assault and abuse, and found empowerment within herself, her community, and became a north star of revolution and social justice. She became the leading voice against police brutality, systemic racism, and the oppression of Black Communities in the U.S., and continued to teach during her exile in Cuba. She became the resistance in exile, teaching about racial justice, feminism, and global solidarity against oppression. She stressed the importance of love, community, and solidarity in revolution, not just resistance for its own sake, but transformation for a better future. This was a Black leader who used her voice toward love and resiliance, not a white Christian nationalist and white supremacist platformed for enacting violence and influencing young conservatives toward fascist ideology, disguised in nationalism.

Ms. Assata Shakur passed in peace and love, and Charlie Kirk died at the hands of what he preached: hatred.

I want to thank Assata Shakur for empowering me through your story. Your ability to love, in the face of hate, and to leave a legacy so rich that it will feed revolutionaries for generations. You deserve peace and rest, and I grieve you with a smile and immense respect and gratitude for your service.

The Takeaway

During the peak of the Black Lives Matter protests, my brother said to me, “You won’t find me at a protest, but you will find me funding or mentoring for the movement.” And it showed me that not everyone has to complete the same task; we all have our own compass that can guide us toward the same future. So what does your compass look like, and how will you follow it?

Like the leaves that fall in autumn, each loss, each fracture, and each unraveling in our lives and in our world is not an end, but a message written on the back of a leaf. They remind us that what falls must also fertilize the soil for what is to come. The question is whether we will ignore these messages or pick them up, read them, and act. Each leaf asks us: will you let this season of grief and disruption pass over you, or will you rise as the alchemist, turning endings into beginnings? Together, we must read the writing on these leaves, carry their wisdom forward, and organize ourselves into the rebirth we’ve been waiting for.

Last week, after photographing a collective of queer thespians in their 70-90s (above) I stopped by a charm jewelry store in Greenwich Village. I was looking for a fidget ring to stop me from picking at my cuticles when I came across a charm. It framed a gold woman smelling flowers, her hair cascading like water down her back. EMPRESS is carved underneath her as her foundation. Without a second thought, I bought it.

The jewelry I wear is often symbolic, pieces from family or sentiments that mark a transformative time or place for me. This pendant, which sits alongside my mother’s Sun, are two testimants in which highlights the evolution of my feminine energy. Growing into myself fully as a woman and all that comes with that privilege.

Below are my gratitudes that helped me feel as if I can hold the identity of The Empress for however long this season is meant for me to be in.

Welcome to…The Peach Pit

Over the last three months, I’ve helped my friend Paige Goodings fully realize her vision of a cabaret performance collective called Peach Pit. A safe space for queers to express their joy, pain and heartbreak through performative dance, spoken word, witty lectures, to audiences who are free thinkers and lovers.

This was a full-out production because Paige is not one to do anything half-ass. We had long nights of script writing, rehearsing, and memorizing. Located at the Red Pavilion, we had burlesque artists, aerialists, pole dancers, and I was your host, Eva Diva.

Now, I am comfortable as a public speaker, I took two years of improv class, I enjoy the stage, and I get fulfillment writing witty scripts and encouraging crowd banter; however, to perform as The Mother of my stage kittens at this cabaret show was a new identity I had to stretch for.

I had always envisioned myself as a “cute” form of sexy. I never considered myself a bombshell (to mainstream standards), but my free spirit was and still is my form of sex appeal. However, on the evening of June 5, I had transformed into a “Jessica Rabbit” kind of sexy, and my Empress Energy took over.

This was not Eva hired behind the camera to help others find and embrace their beauty. I was now the center of and in control of seducing the audience with not just my wit and charm, but my sex appeal and body. After years of healing my own mind, heart, and spirit, this was my transformation fully realized, and I’ve never felt happier, more powerful, and celebrated in my power.

Check out these SENSATIONAL photographs. I highly recommend you don’t miss the next one.

My puzzle has her first home at Leroys Place!

Over the last few months, I have pitched my puzzle to a few retail stores, and we have finally found her first home! Leroy’s Place couldn’t be more perfect. Think of the whackiest and most eccentric millennial toy store, add a little New Orleans originality, and then plop it in the heart of Park Slope, Brooklyn, and you’ve found Leroy’s Place. This store is so carefully curated with goofy crafted items like felted “Ghost farts” in a jar, and monster renaissance paintings, and now a 504 piece set of “Mother. Mom” by local artist Eva Woolridge. I had a goal in December to expand beyond prints, make a puzzle, and sell them in retail spaces, and last week, that dream was realized.

Taking space at Photoville

Despite its rainy opening this year, Photoville’s exhibition packed a huge punch that no amount of downpour could interrupt. This year, the focus felt like using mixed media photography to push the narrative of resistance, perseverance, and inspire change.

I found myself crying throughout many exhibitions, the work demanding public action toward progressive change. Whether it was the live action performance piece of ice melting to discuss the very real threat of our extinction, or the countering exhibitions on violence placed upon the Palestinians, and the absence of the hostages from Israel, Photoville was not afraid to hold space for conversations on resistance.

And this was the throughline for the Leica conversations as well. I was proud to speak as the moderator for the Leica Women in Foto Project panel, discussing the work of Koral Carballo, Jennifer Osborne, Anna Neubaur, and Priya Suresh Kamblo, introducing the work, hearts, and minds of the 2025 class. Collectively, their work pushes the envelope to redefine beauty standards, break and redefine generational traumas, and channel the Punk attitude that is in all of us. To be a moderator and help guide the conversation toward community support, development and taking up space was such a full circle moment and I was so proud and honored that Leica found me appropriate to bring in the next generation.

If the handful of wins wasn’t already enough, I am also celebrating having my work selected to represent the 100 years of the Leica I camera.

Thank you to the Leica team, I adore and am thankful for every single one of you.

We finally made it to Headquarters.

My last flower is another full-circle moment. In 2021, the Photoville team asked if I’d like to be included in a set of photographs that would be displayed in the Instagram headquarters in New York City. I was paid well and was enthusiastic, but never received an invitation to see my work. That was four years ago, and it was a fun fact I’d share with people, but I was clueless if it was still showcasing, until last Sunday.

I participated in a stoop sale on my block and met an English fellow by the name of Carl. He and his partner El reviewed my portfolio and stopped at my photograph, Velvet. He said, “I know this photo,” and I said, “Yes, maybe my brother’s bar, Please Tell Me?” He said, “no, not there,” and I gasped with “Oh man! Do you work at Instagram?” and he replied, “Yes!” with enthusiasm.

He invited me to the office yesterday, and I was blown away at the scale of my piece on the main floor of the Instagram office. It was HUGE!

We had such a great conversation on how, when you meet certain people, it’s a reminder that we’re on the right path. This was one of those kizmit moments, and I am very appreciative of your generosity, Carl!

In Conclusion:

I’m having a kick ass June, so much so I can’t include everything in this newsletter! I reached the email limit! And so, for protest work, of the ice protests in NYC, check out my Patreon tomorrow.

And I’ll see you later :-)

Photoville 2025

This is one of my favorite times of year! This weekend is the opening of Photoville 2025. It’s a wholesome, family-celebrated Photography festival in Dumbo, Brookyn. Officially sponsored by Leica Camera, on June 8 at 5:00 PM I will be a moderator for the Leica Women in Foto Project of 2025 recipients. This is such a full circle moment, to structure a conversation that will inspire, and be critical of where the photography industry and visual storytelling is today.

This is a free event!

RSVP here

Ahhh… I’m really processing right now how cool this is.

June 7th, also check out my friend Sara Messinger’s talk tomorrow, June 7th at noon.

Block Stoop Sale

June 8, 1-4, a cool block is having a stoop sale, I’ll be selling prints! If you wanted to buy a print of my photography and browse my other cool neighbors’ work, Sunday is a perfect time to do so!

It’s on Hancock between Marcy and Nostrand.

BYEEE.

My proper June newsletter is coming along this week.

I’ve begun the slow climb up the mountain that is my Villa Lena film project. Some days, I have spurts of motivation where I can stare at my screen for hours, until my back, legs, and neck hurt, and other days I stare at a smaller screen, filling my time and attention with everything but my project, and spinning in turmoil, as a result.

The video above is a snippet from that new film project about my time at Villa Lena and how one can heal from trauma. This clip is narrated by my mom, Lori (newsletter ), and filmed while I was in my five-week artist-in-residency in Tuscany, Italy.

I shared this not for the sake of sharing for others to see, but really to show myself that I am making headway on my project. I’m curious about your thoughts on it. You’re welcome to comment!

BING BONG. NYC KNICKS

I have officially adopted the Knicks as my team of choice. I know, I’m a poser, despite growing up in New Jersey, where the Knicks are our team. HOWEVER, I just don’t watch basketball. Thanks to my recent New York Times feature that made the front page, I am officially a Knicks head now.

This is my third New York Times feature that I covered, and I always want to thank Elijah Sinclair Walker for calling me.

The exposure my work got from this feature was outstanding, and it filled my cup to see how many people were responding. The most rewarding part, however, was covering the event. The energy of New York City is unmatched, and the unique characters are what make up this beautiful city. It was sensational and truly magnificent. My top photo is the one with the cat (naturally).

I feel so profoundly privileged that this is my life. I can live in Brooklyn, NY. Contribute to the culture of New York City with my eye and connection with subjects, and make a living from it. I feel as if I’ve come full circle in respecting my craft, my photojournalistic style, and remembering all the seasons of doubt, late nights, insecurities, and experimentation that had led me to this point. And I still feel as if I’m only just beginning. I am so relieved that I can say I took a risk on my life, and with the support of my family, chosen and biological, I am the existing evidence that we can create the life we want to live if we are just authentic to ourselves and what we want for ourselves. It sounds so cliche and obvious, but I finally actually believe it.

I still go through spells where I doubt my place in my industry. But then moments like this happen that remind me how far I’ve come. Yesterday, my work was featured in Sporarts, an artistically curated photojournalism sports page on Instagram. I got waves of exposure from that, including follow or two from Knick players, but there was one follow from a UMD student ( alma mater) that stood out. I happened to look at her page. Her recent photograph was senior graduation photos, and live band coverage. I immediately DMed her and said, “Keep shooting. I was doing EXACTLY what you’re doing now, and was self-taught, and I promise you if you want to continue photography, you can and should.” It’s an insane feeling to live and have worked long enough to see students be where you once stood.

LEICA 100, I’m Ending The Boys’ Club

Leica Camera USA celebrated its 100 years of the Leica I camera in New York City. This was a great conference that brought photographers from around the world to the Meatpacking District. The energy was delicious, and I am thankful for the notoriety I received for the work I’ve done. It’s amazing to be respected in this highly publicized and celebrated brand.

I was a panelist for Cameras and Coffee, interviewed for the archive of Leica, and spent the day just basking in my photography community. I met wonderful new friends, Jake and Melissa from Oregon, hung out with my NYC crew, and navigated my way in what is still very much a boys’ club. It’s true, and it’s annoying to be honest.

I hope that photographers like the talented Sara Messinger, Donna Ferrato, I and the current and future winners of the Leica Women in Foto award continue to break the glass ceiling, and break up this boys club. That said, I am so thankful for the culture of Leica, what it stands for, and the inner team’s willingness to shake the table for change. I love my Leica team, Corinne, Rob, Brian, Ramon, Jack, Cat, Sire, Vincent, Mike G, to name a few.

Upcoming Speaking Engagements

I’m speaking this upcoming June, and I want it on your radar!

• June 5th, I am hosting a Queer cabaret show called Peach Pit. Photographed by me, lighting assisted by Alexander Paterson-Jones, styled by Tyler, Grace, and Ashlyn, Creative Direction by Paige Gooding, Produced by Shakivla Todd, Autumn, Amina and so many more contributors. This is an event you don’t want to miss. Imagine..ME…as a bratty little host. Yeah…Don’t miss it, teehee. It would mean a lot for people to attend, as many don’t see this side of me or my writing!

• June 7th at 5 PM: I’m a moderator at Photoville, interviewing the 2025 recipients of the Leica Women in Foto Award. Hope to see you there!

APA NATIONAL BOARD MEMBER

I just want to remind y’all that I am one of the new National Executive Members of APA, the American Photographic Artists non-profit. I want to encourage members of this spectacular organization, and we have our grant that just opened for applicants!

June 1st the D.C. Photo application opens! This is for all photographers, not just for D.C. residents!

I’m cutting my newsletter short because I have to run to Peach Pit rehearsals.

BYEEEEE

Two weeks ago, I went on a trip to be witnessed. Not by a crowd of people, or an audience, but by those even more intimidating, to be a witness to myself through the eyes of loved ones.

A man whom I respect for his mind, boyish charm, humility, adventure, and creative expression, traveled with me to Highland County, VA, about seven hours outside of New York City. I’ll be referring to him by his artist name, Zxndr (congratulations, you did indeed make it in the newsletter :-)).

Portrait of Eva inspired by Lee Miller, photographed by Zxnd.r March 2025.

How We Met.

We met in 2020 thanks to the divine introduction by our mutual friends, Nick and his partner Tasha. They rolled up while I sat on my brownstone stoop in Brooklyn, probably smoking a joint. Zxndr looked so fresh in the city, only 23 at the time. I thought he was the cutest thing, looking like a 90s skater boy, with the floppy blonde cut hair, and baggy jeans. I believe I even teased him that he looks like a 90s teen heartthrob. I was 27/28 at the time and was moved by his spritely energy, and took it only as a pleasant interaction. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d met before.

Within the following year or so, we moved through the same spaces. I was gaining more notoriety as an award-winning photographer, holding interviews with Leica Camera USA, was hired to cover protests and features for Rolling Stone, and was a lead photographer for a few Peloton shoot campaigns. I was growing fast, and I was timid. At the time I was dating a different mutual, and during one commissioned shoot with Skillshare, Zxndr assisted. I had never worked with a true lighting assistant before. To me, having an assistant meant I leveled up to be a leader of a production, and as a result, triggered my impostor syndrome.

However, Zxndr fueled me, we worked so seamlessly together. He respected me as a thinker. He never questioned me as an artist or tried to challenge me because I was a woman (this indeed happened many times by male assistants on my sets), and I always respected his suggestions and concepts. It was a collaboration. We shared the greater vision in mind for a project, and worked together to meet there as creative expressionists. I soon began to hire him for any on-location jobs as an assistant or as a second shooter. I found that at times I didn’t truly need his technical assistance, but his emotional assistance helped me the most in believing that I could be this accomplished photographer. He became an artistic security blanket for me, reminding me that no task was too big for me to handle, because we’d figure it out together. I am thankful for him, and we’d finish each shoot with a glass or two, or three of whiskey. We’d bond over spiritual concepts, philosophies, gossip, our families, everything.

If we weren’t working on a job, we’d run into each other around the city. I’d have my bike, giant red helmet, and bright grin, and he still had that boyish smile and skater charm. I’d be on set for a studio he was managing, or we’d run into each other at an ex’s show. Each random interaction was always the same: giggly, thoughtful, introspective, and memorable. All were small mounds building into a mountain of the purest of appreciation. A year or so had passed since we’d worked together, and I hired him for a profile gig for an architectural publication. I met him outside, and I saw a man in front of me. His blond hair grew out, his mustache and beard nearly connected, and there were a lot more experiences behind his eyes. He was no longer the 90s teen heartthrob skaterboy, but a photographer placed in the 70s of New York City, cigarette in one hand and a 35 mm film camera strapped around his chest. It hit me there that I had witnessed him grow up from a cheeky boy to a wise man. And it was and still is a privilege that in this small amount of time, our relationship is founded on witnessing each other.

Virginia

My dear friend Molly and her beautifully kind husband, Rob extended an invitation for me to stay with them in Virginia for a weekend or so. I met Molly last year during our artist-in-residency in Tuscany, Italy. It became very clear to us quickly that we were soul-bonded witchy sisters. Another interaction that just clicked, without effort, without explanation; just one of those divine reunions. Molly is in her late 30s and is the kind of woman that is teaching me how much more life there is to live (duh, as our 30s isn’t old). How many different versions of ourselves come to be, fall away, and evolve into someone else? She’s always traveling the world, has lived an unconventional life, while also finding a partner for marriage to explore the cosmos together. I look up to them because they nurture one another’s individualism, and show me that secure partnerships exist that is amplified by actively choosing to create a life that works for both of you, as individuals. Meeting Molly has already rebuilt my connection with my intuition, evolved my business as an artist, and shown me that there can be enrichment outside the hustle of New York City.

I knew with such a special relationship, with two of the kindest people I’ve ever met, I needed to bring someone who I could be confident would appreciate the emotional sensitivities and care. A Rolodex of people flipped through my mind, but it stopped at Zxndr.

This was our first overnight trip together. We’ve spent nearly 8 hours, minimum, together each time we’ve hung out, and I even met him in Paris last year, but we’d never spent multiple days together. This wasn’t a trip I wanted to hold my breath for either. Zxndr could ghost from time to time, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up. It wasn’t until he sat in the rental car saying, “So where are we going, Vermont?” that I could exhale with a giant laugh that the trip was indeed happening. And what it trip it was. A gift. You see, Zxndr was a man that I felt safe enough to be my fullest self around, and I wanted to test that theory in Virginia. I wanted to challenge myself in allowing others to witness me, without performing, all my guards down, and without hiding behind comfortable niceties. I met Molly during a time when I was being asked to reconnect with my wild spirit that was once taken away from me, and now with Molly again, I was putting into practice witnessing other people’s love for me, for all of me.

Let’s go on an adventure

I wanted to witness each one of them! I was gifted to witness Zxndr being his most adventurous self. He is known for adrenaline junkie experiences, and privately I’d hope to one day have the privilege to witness, to see the places where his spirit feels the most free. And as if Fate came down herself, the property we stayed on had some of the oldest caves in the country, and a home, fully stocked with lit helmets, photography equipment (thank you, Rob, & your dad), and bear horns (I strangely felt most attached to this). We explored the caves together. It felt like Zelda: Breath of the Wilds, we went on side quests, found tools and materials that opened what felt like little passageways and portals, and found ourselves in the mouth of the cave. I was quiet, meditative, and proudly witnessing Zxndr master light, painting through the caves, illuminating our surroundings only on film. And he continued to check in on me as we would explore deeper and deeper. I never backed down, because I love adventure, and not many witness that. I love anything that makes my inner child sing; I like to get dirty, I like to jump into natural bodies of water, and I like to run naked and free; always have and always will.

Zxndr photographed by Eva, Medium Format

We had a self-proclaimed artist retreat. I witnessed Rob share his BEAUTIFUL writing. This man is so talented and so emotionally intelligent. Compassion and human introspection just drip off the paper. I witnessed Molly step into her calling as a witch, putting into practice her herbalism, spell casting baths, and creating Love pavlolva. Her magic is expressed through her hands, in her actions; painting, baking, and to see her step into this new chapter is such a privilege.

I witnessed Zaddie, Rob and Molly’s lovable spirit guide be the princess of the woods that she is. Feeling her most free as she sprints through the property, no matter what time of day, with an illuminated rave collar around her neck. Zaddie the rave dog, they called her. I witnessed her pick fights…with me. Lovingly slapping my face with her paw as I tried to exercise my body, a reminder to get up, and get out…that I had a cave to explore. I witnessed Zaddie nurture me as I wrote by the waterfall, gently crying, expelling excess energy that wasn’t serving me anymore.

And then, I witnessed myself through their eyes. I witnessed myself get unapologetically snappy with Zxndr as he rushed us to get home. I witnessed myself receive and challenge as he got snappy back. And I witnessed us laughing at the quality and consistency of billboards for sheep skin coats that broke our quiet 5-minute tension and reset us. I witnessed myself get lost in the life of Lee Miller and subconsciously, unintentionally recreate a bathtub photograph scene from her biopic. I witnessed myself loudly running away from the computer as I vulnerably shared new work with the group. I witnessed myself jump into cold pond water, giggling with Molly like little girls playing. I witnessed myself change into 4-5 outfits a day, because I like how textures feel on my skin during different times of the day, (I do this at home, but no one knows). I witnessed myself make fun of a kid flying a kite by himself on the side of the road (it was funny, only because I would have done the same lmao). I witnessed myself dance to Janet Jackson, sleep with my mouth open, and “just accept” a six-wheeled truck billboard. I witnessed how much my favorite foods are attached to memories, and how much I don’t call things by their proper names: Butters, and Skeetz vs. Rutters and Sheetz. I witnessed myself come face to face with the truth that my time in New York City is over, and it’s time for me to move on. I witnessed myself be anxiously afraid of that truth, to be scared to walk a path alone, to accept that when we are called to grow, life does change, and the people around us change, and it’s necessary for us to surrender to that truth. And I witnessed myself be jealous, rejected, happy for, and beloved in much deeper ways, in one singular moment.

Portrait of Eva Swimming, by Molly Reeder

On our way home, I asked Zxndr what one new thing he learned about me. He said along the lines of “I see you so social in the world, but I never knew how much you enjoyed your solitude. I watched you outside, by yourself, so much painting, writing, or reading, and I just didn’t know that about you.” I exhaled. In this moment, I felt seen and truly witnessed. It may seem small, but I can’t express how much of a privilege this is that I extend to only those who deserve to see it, who can see it. For people to see the quiet, introverted E in her own daydream world, not the massively social butterfly Eva they think they know. A connection so safe that we can just exist quietly as individuals next to each other.

I left that trip deeply sad, because of the immense high I had for four days. It felt almost too much to hold, knowing how delicious, yummy, and divine life experiences are when we’re intentional and stay open to spontaneity. It was an experience I didn’t want to end with people whose souls were singing harmoniously together. Certain relationships are divinely made, and it’s an adventure I am thankful to be on, to witness how they continue to evolve and what they come to be.

Black Girl Artist Show

And as I mentioned, Molly had inspired me to expand my business as an artist. When I met her in Italy, she shared her experience selling her work at markets. I had visited her when she and Rob participated in a Brooklyn Holiday fair, and she inspired me to I should consider doing a market for my artwork.

And so I did just that. Last week, I participated in the Black Girl Artist show in the Navy Yard in Brooklyn. I had all these excess prints from exhibitions and galleries that I just didn’t do anything with. I didn’t have much expectation; I had a goal to sell $2000 worth of prints and puzzles, but at the very least $300 worth. My girl Shakivla came through as a casual +1, and I turned into my manager, business partner, and social media director, haha. I am so thankful for you Shak. It was such a rewarding experience, not just for the money, but more so to connect with fans of my work. People who knew of my work, but didn’t know that I was the photographer behind it. I was on a high of gratitude, discovering some of my work was deemed culturally iconic, that anthropologists will witness my work to study that of Black culture. What a high compliment and praise that was. There was even a booth neighbor of ours that saw my Felicia piece that I made in college, and realized that she had it saved on her Pinterest board months ago. The cherry on top was finding out I made 70% more profit than my $2,000 goal (thank you to Briana, who is a financial babe, and just threw that calculation so casually. I’ve been running with it ever since). Check out my video for my market recap.

Because of You

I was featured in such a cool LEGO, legacy campaign. It was with Honoring Your Legacy, and Because of You – Legacy in Focus. Check out my interview, it’s very cool and had no idea that this has over a million followers. I told friends casually, and they found out what publication it was for and they freaked out for me. Just like me, not realizing what’s a big deal and what’s just a cool opportunity. Haha.

We are entering a new era that prioritizes community engagement, support, and strategy to not only survive, but thrive. Join us as we have a conversation on how relying on community is a release valve to the pressure cooker that we seem to be under. Join us! RSVP here!

This conversation is to launch the new Affirmation Deck that I and many artists who I admire are illustrated subjects. Your ticket = your new deck! This deck is a $20 value, the price of admission.

About the Event

About the Deck: An accessible, inspiring tool for attracting abundance into your life, featuring 52 affirmations paired with vibrantly illustrated archetypes inspired by real women and femmes and their chosen paths to prosperity.

Rich in spirit, rich in love, rich in community, rich in fortune.

This 52-card deck and guidebook set was designed to assist you in creating the prosperous life of your dreams. Focused on career development, financial expansion, community building, and personal well-being, it inspires each of us to be bold and resourceful as we forge our paths and define what abundance means to us.

Aspirational icons: Each card highlights an archetype inspired by real women and femmes on their chosen paths to prosperity. Based on the real-life roles of the women who inspired them, the archetypes include The Programmer, The Archeologist, The Historian, The Loctician, The Florist, The CEO, and more!

Illustrated affirmations: Each card features a gorgeous illustration paired with an affirmation.

Deluxe set: This set includes 52 full-color illustrated cards (3 x 5 inches), shrink wrapped and housed in a card box; a 96-page illustrated guidebook (3 x 5 inches); and a keepsake magnetic closure box (3-1/2 x 5-3/8 inches).

Illustrated guidebook: The enclosed guidebook includes guidance on using the deck and interpreting the meanings of the cards and their mantras, as well as words of wisdom from the women and femmes who inspired the archetypes.

Journal prompts: Each card’s entry in the guidebook also includes a writing prompt for deeper reflection.