Leica 100: A Year I'll Never Forget
There are moments in life that feel almost impossible to believe, even while you're living them.
For me, Leica 100 was one of those moments.
It all began shortly after Leica Camera's 100-year celebration in New York City in May 2025. Being back in my hometown for such a historic event was already special enough, but before the weekend had fully come to an end, I was approached with a simple question:
"Would you like to be part of something we're putting together?"
There wasn't much detail.
Just the idea of a publication commemorating the centennial weekend.
The answer was immediate.
Absolutely.
Then... nothing.
Months passed.
Eventually, an email arrived asking the participating photographers to submit a selection of images along with a short biography and a few additional details. I sent everything in, grateful simply to be included, and once again the project went quiet.
Then another message arrived.
The book was being printed in Italy.
That alone felt surreal.
Not long after, another announcement followed.
"We can't just release a book," they said.
"There has to be an exhibition."
Suddenly, what I had imagined as a commemorative publication had grown into something much larger—a gallery exhibition at Leica Gallery New York, accompanied by a book release celebration nearly a year after that first conversation.
With every update, the project seemed to become more significant.
And with every update, it became a little harder to believe I was part of it.
Seeing My Name Alongside Photographers I Admire
When the list of participating photographers was finally released, I remember reading through it once.
Then reading it again.
And again.
Names like Phil Penman, David Butow, Sheila Pree Bright, Mark Mann, Mathieu Bitton, and so many others whose work I've admired for years.
These were photographers whose books sat on my shelves, whose careers I'd followed, and whose images had influenced the way I think about photography.
Now, somehow, my name appeared beside theirs.
That feeling is difficult to describe.
Coming Home
Perhaps what made Leica 100 even more meaningful was where it happened.
New York City will always be home.
Although I've spent much of my adult life serving in the Navy and living around the world, Queens is where my story began.
Because the exhibition was in New York, I had the opportunity to invite childhood friends and family—many of whom hadn't truly seen what I'd been building since retiring from the military four years earlier.
For years, they had watched from a distance as I poured myself into photography.
This was the first time many of them were able to experience it in person.
To walk through the gallery together...
To see my work hanging on the wall...
To see my photograph reproduced inside a beautifully printed book...
Those moments meant more than I can adequately express.
It wasn't simply an exhibition.
It felt like sharing the next chapter of my life with the people who knew me long before photography became part of it.
The Artist Talk
The weekend wasn't only about photographs.
The following day, I had the privilege of participating in an artist roundtable alongside many of the photographers featured in the exhibition.
Listening to everyone share their experiences reminded me that every photograph has a story behind it—and every photographer has a journey that rarely follows a straight path.
When it was my turn to speak, I shared the story behind one of my father's photographs and how it continues to shape the work I make today.
It was one of the most personal stories I've shared publicly.
I can only hope it gave those in the room a glimpse into who I am as an artist and what I hope to contribute through my photography.
Looking back, that conversation would become one of the defining moments of the entire weekend.
More Than a Book
Leica 100 ultimately became both a limited-edition publication and a gallery exhibition celebrating the photographers who came together during Leica Camera's centennial celebration in New York City.
The exhibition featured work from thirty-six photographers whose images documented the Centennial weekend while also highlighting one signature photograph that represented each artist's broader body of work.
What began as a small commemorative project evolved into a 252-page hardbound publication, printed in Italy, and a month-long exhibition at Leica Gallery New York.
It became a celebration not only of Leica's first one hundred years, but of the community that continues to shape its future.
A Daily Reminder
Today, the Leica 100 book sits permanently on my desk.
Not because I enjoy seeing my own work in print.
It sits there as a reminder.
A reminder that meaningful opportunities rarely happen overnight.
That sometimes months pass without hearing anything.
That the work you create today may open doors years from now.
Most importantly, it reminds me to keep going.
To continue making the work that feels honest.
To trust that if I stay focused on creating photographs with intention, the work will eventually speak for itself.
Looking back now, Leica 100 wasn't simply an exhibition.
It became proof that the path I've chosen since leaving the Navy is leading exactly where it's supposed to.
