Theunknown Scotsman

Moments lived, noticed, and held—through the darker days and into the light.

I call myself The Unknown Scotsman.
Not out of mystery, really—more out of truth. Most of my life, I’ve felt like a shadow at the edge of the frame.

This isn’t a portfolio. There are no sweeping vistas here, no golden-hour mountaintops. Just moments—quiet, ordinary, easily missed.
A blur on a rainy street. A crooked chair. Light falling through a kitchen window like it means something. it all means something. we just have to look.

I’ve lived through years I don’t talk much about. Drink, drugs—a kind of drifting that slowly wore my edges down. The sort of chaos that might look romantic from the outside, but really, it just steals your time, so much time. I was meant to create—but for a long while, I didn’t. Or maybe I couldn’t.

The diagnosis came late—ADHD—but by then, the damage was already familiar. Felt more like a subplot.

Then came the camera.
I don’t take photos to impress. I take them to breathe.
Even the out-of-focus ones, even the boring ones—they hold me still. They remind me I exist.
Not every shot is brilliant. But every one is honest.

And maybe that’s all I’ve ever really needed.