If I want you to tell your story, I should lead by example and tell mine.

I was born in 1990 and grew up in a small village in the Netherlands with my parents, two sisters, and my grandmother. Life in the countryside was great—until I had to go to school.

Being severely dyslexic, school was tough, especially at the one I attended. The teachers didn’t believe in dyslexia. Instead, for six years, I was told, “You’re just stupid.” As a little kid, I believed them. So when I started high school, I didn’t expect much.

But in my final year, things started to change. My Dutch teacher looked beyond my dyslexia and saw something in me. She encouraged me to read what I liked instead of what I had to. Long story short: I took my exams, and my highest grade was in Dutch.

Things took an even bigger turn when I was 16 and spent a year in Tallahassee, Florida, attending Florida High. I was terrified that I was still stupid. But things were different there—very different. In middle school in the Netherlands, I wasn’t even allowed to do PE; instead, I had to stay inside and work on grammar homework. In the U.S., I was pushed to play to my strengths. Out of eight classes, I had six A’s. My confidence skyrocketed, and even my worst grades improved.

When I returned to the Netherlands, I attended community college before enrolling at the Royal Academy of Arts to study advertising photography. In my first year, one of my documentary teachers told me, “You’re going to be a documentary photographer.” I didn’t believe him. In my mind, the only photography worth pursuing was advertising. Well… how wrong I was.

After graduating, I felt lost. I loved documentary photography, but I had grown up in a studio—my father was an advertising and fashion photographer. The studio was my home, my safe place. Yet advertising photography was slowly killing me. I wasn’t playing to my strengths. So I quit—not in a graceful way. I simply stopped answering my phone. I was sick of waking up every morning with stress so intense it made me physically ill.

I stepped away from photography and started working in retail, eventually becoming a trainer. I studied Neuro-Linguistic Programming and began coaching people with dyslexia. I realized I wasn’t stupid. I could do anything I set my mind to. And with that confidence, photography started to feel fun again.

Still a bit lost, I needed guidance. That’s when I called my best friend, Tommy. I told him I was getting back into photography but wasn’t sure which direction to take. Tommy knew. “You’re a portrait photographer,” he said. “You know that, right? You’ve been taking portraits since you started.” I disagreed. “No, I haven’t. I rarely take portraits.”

Tommy, who works in sales for good reason, pushed back. “Go through your archive. Look at your work.”

So I did—already knowing he was right. The common thread in my work? Portraits. There it was, my strength. I knew what I had to do: take my studio, my home, my safe space—on the road.

Sports have been a huge part of my life. Ever since I could walk, I played sports. I love every sport and tried many growing up. Combining sports, my studio, and my documentary approach led me to the work I create today.

My work has been recognized and included in collections such as the Rijksmuseum’s Special Collection, the 4 en 5 Mei Comité, and the Fentener van Vlissingen Fund. I’ve worked with clients including KNVB, Apex Bikes, Gispen, Fabio Novembre, FITPOWERWEAR, Nespresso, and many incredible individuals who trusted me to tell their stories.

So there you have it—my story.