One of my greatest joys is photographing people when they’re at their happiest. There’s something truly magical about capturing those authentic, unguarded moments, especially when they involve photo-averse grooms or toddlers who think the camera is a direct threat to their existence. But how do I win 99.9% of little/big clients over? With the help of my two ridiculously effective superpowers:
Making people feel comfortable and relaxed +
Can read a room better than Dr Phil during a family intervention!
Let me just get this out of the way - I’m one of those insufferably upbeat people who shows up to every session with the energy and enthusiasm of someone in their first week on the job. Ten years in, I still truly LOVE what I do.
It's me, nicole
- I’m not just a coffee enthusiast - I’m biologically dependent.
Four kids, solo mum life, business owner... caffeine isn’t optional. It’s a survival strategy.
My blood type? Double Latte Positive.
- I’m proud to have so many repeat clients (one has hit well into double digits!). A not-so-subtle brag? I’ve also photographed over 10 different photographers - so I must be doing something right.
- People often describe me as stubborn and determined. Basic translation: I will do WHATEVER it takes to get "the shot".
- I'm based in Wellington, NSW, and travel all around the state.
- Since 2020, I’ve sponsored a beautiful girl named Leticia from Uganda through Life Charity Focus - a wonderful Charity run by a farming family in Nyngan, NSW. Please look them up!
- I love gardening (even though I’m not amazing at it). Hand-watering my lawn is my therapy!.
- The only thing I can fall asleep to is true crime documentaries. Yes, I know... a little concerning.
some interesting & random facts
about me!
Let's chat!
That one time...
It happened… I got bogged on the way to a wedding.
Wedding photographer’s worst nightmare?
A cruel joke from the universe?
A resilience-building exercise?
Or just a hilarious detour on the way to love and vows?
I’ll let you be the judge.
It was the epic start to the epic wedding of Mr & Mrs Baker.
I had been warned - very clearly warned - that there was around 40kms of wet, slippery dirt road standing between me and the property. To give you an idea of how serious this was, they had three tractors stationed at strategic points between town and the venue.
Unfortunately... I was coming from the opposite direction.
No tractors. No backup. Just me - Captain Confidence - with the music blasting, coffee in hand, and absolutely zero clue that the safety feature called "traction control" only keeps you safe (and straight) on sealed roads.
At one point, I was casually sideways through a T-intersection going about 5km/h, locking eyes with a local farmer who looked at me like I was a goat in a wedding dress riding a 4 wheeler through his crop.
My response? An embarrassed smile and a few quickly raised fingers off the tight grip of my steering wheel. (The country wave kind of fingers - not the type you’re thinking.)
According to the GPS, I was just 10kms from the property. I’ve got this, I told myself.
Four-wheel drive? Engaged. Common sense? Disconnected.
Still blissfully unaware that my traction control was sabotaging my grip on the road, I gracefully (and very anticlimactically) slid right off the road.
Naturally, I wasn’t giving up. I revved my Prado within an inch of its life, determined to free myself... only managing to sink deeper and drift further into No Photographer’s Land.
Time for the most dreaded move in wedding photography history: texting the bride to say, “I’m bogged.”
Abby’s reply?
“Haha! I’ll send the boys.”
WHHAAAAATTTT?!
That was not the dramatic, tear-filled panic I had braced for.
Five minutes later, two absolute legends - smiles on, dressed to impress and completely unbothered by mud or mayhem, pulled up with the calm confidence of two blokes who’ve towed more useless drivers out of bogs than they’ve had baked dinners.
Meanwhile, there I was: fancy dress on, hair and makeup done, ankle-deep in what can only be described as a mix between wet cement and questionable life choices.
They towed me out like seasoned pros. Not a single beer was spilled. Not a speck of mud on their suits. Honestly? Iconic.
Fuelled by caffeine and sheer determination (and a solid groomsmen rescue) I still arrived early and ready to shoot, like nothing had happened.
Unless you count the mud on my soul and the image of that farmer’s face now permanently etched into my ego.
The twist? I ended up photographing one of those groomsmen’s weddings two years later. Apparently, I made a lasting impression - though it’s hard to forget someone dragging a mountain of camera gear through two feet deep of Coonabarabran’s finest black soil after 100ml of rain.
Pure elegance.
So yes, I got bogged.
But I also nailed the wedding!
And that, my friends, is the real win.
