Makers: Intro

This series has lived within me for a long time—longer than I originally realized when I finally embarked on the journey of bringing it to life.  

A silver gelatin darkroom print of a photo my mom took of an Italian sculptor in her 20s has floated around my childhood home for as long as I can remember. It found new homes in different rooms every time my mom decided to rearrange—something artists tend to do, often. It’s a beautiful photo, but truthfully, I never thought much of it until my grandmother helped me curate a gallery wall in my apartment last year. She sent me a box of paintings and prints she thought I might like, and among them was this print.  

Darkroom print of a photo taken by my mom in Italy, circa 1990ish. Framed in my apartment today.

Fast forward a year or so, and I’m in Naxos, Greece, with my mom and my friend Allison—on a stunning island overflowing with makers of all kinds. We wandered through the narrow, winding streets of a village perched at the top of a mountain, taking photos and admiring the architecture and art woven into the streets.  

We turned down a random alleyway when Allison, always adventurous and curious, peeked through a door left slightly ajar. Inside, an older man sat among his tools—a carpenter in his workshop. He quietly waved us in. As we stepped inside, the room opened up with the most beautifully dynamic light pouring in from the balcony door. I didn’t know it yet, but a lifelong project was about to begin.  

I always like to ask before taking someone’s portrait—it feels less intrusive that way. More like an interaction, an exchange, rather than something simply taken. He didn’t speak any English, and we didn’t speak any Greek, so with a few hand gestures and a point to my Rolleiflex medium-format film camera, I got his permission.  

Makers, portrait one - Naxos, Greece. August 2024

Serendipity tends to be a common theme in my life, and this was no exception. The conditions were perfect. I gave him no direction, I changed nothing about the scene—he was naturally positioned in the perfect spot, the window light softly highlighting him. And I had just one shot left on the roll of film in my camera.  

So, I took one photo.  

Later, while talking with my mom about how excited I was to develop these images, she told me she had always wanted to do a photo series on “Makers Where They Make.” It wasn’t until I received the film scans weeks later that we realized how eerily similar my photo was to the one she had taken in Italy during the ’90s. The last photo in her series, resembling the first of mine without any coordination felt very symbolic. As if I was naturally picking up her torch.  It was in this moment, a project was realized.

After that, I started stumbling upon makers everywhere. It was as if the universe was guiding me to them.  

A fashion designer tucked away in the upstairs corner of thrift store - Barcelona, Spain. August 2024

A book maker sitting in the doorway of a hidden vintage bookshop on a quiet street. - Barcelona, Spain. August 2024

A craftsmen standing outside of his store as we walked to lunch. - Naxos, Greece. August, 2024

A beautiful yia-yia I spotted sitting just inside the door of her cafe. - Naxos, Greece. August 2024

The question wasn’t *what is a maker?*—it was *what isn’t?* Makers of art, music, furniture, food, homes—even moods and atmospheres. Who *isn’t* a maker? They were everywhere I looked. What began as accidental encounters soon became an intentional pursuit. A side quest that lingered in the back of my mind as I moved through Europe, then Central America, and most recently, Mexico.  

I began researching before heading to a new town or country, hoping to discover a unique craft or a specific artist I could meet and photograph. But even with more thought and intentionality behind it now, I still find my favorites through pure chance.  

Recently, in Mexico City, I happened to stay in an Airbnb directly above a handmade toy shop. Walking by on my way to dinner one evening, I noticed a few artisans just inside, whittling wooden children’s toys—practicing a kind of patience and craftsmanship rarely seen today. It’s synchronicities like these that remind me I’m on the right path.  

As a maker of photos, I can tell you—it’s rare that we, the creators, are photographed. Especially while immersed in our craft. So, I’m on a journey to change that. To highlight the makers of art, food, music, and the objects that enrich our lives. The people who create and contribute to the human experience—because without makers, what would we have?

A self portrait with the camera responsible for every photo in this series. - Barcelona, Spain. August 2024

I have no idea where this series will go or what it will become, but I have a feeling it will evolve with me for a long time.  

Here’s to creating, for those who create.

XX

MS