Shelby M'lynn Mick

There’s something you should know about me.

I’m an imperfectionist.

(Did you catch the im? It’s there, at the beginning. Imperfectionist.)

That’s a risky thing to be, as a photographer. Because I have the software and the megapixels that can smooth away the flaws and make everyone look ten pounds lighter, ten years younger, ten steps closer to perfection.

But I don’t want to make you perfect, friend.

I believe you are beautiful. Just like this. I believe your stories matter. Right now.

And I have decided my life’s work will be to convince you of the same.

I’m looking to seek beauty—your beauty. I want to show you how gentle your eyes look when you laugh. I want to make those untamable curls glow in the light. I want to be there for the moment when you forget there’s a camera between us, and your soul peeks out from behind your eyes.

I’m looking to tell stories—your stories. How you got the scar on your forehead, how you fell in love with him, and he with you. How your firstborn is the most wondrous and terrifying thing you’ve ever held, and suddenly it’s scary to breathe. How your kids have too much energy this afternoon, and how in the world he already has a grass stain on his knee. How you’re bursting at the seams with hope and fear and courage and joy, all the time.

I’m looking to do good things with my photos. To ignite hope and to sing hallelujah. But I’m not looking for perfection. Not anymore. Not from me, and not from you, friend.

I know that not everyone joins me in my celebration of imperfection. That’s okay. But I also know I’m not alone—so if this sounds right to you, and if you like what you see in my galleries, then you can hop over to the Contact page and send me an email. We’ll find a time to seek beauty and tell stories.

Other things you should know about me:

My favorite word is ‘hallelujah.” I admire that its only job is to praise God.

I like counting my blessings. My goal is to write down 1,000 a year, and I carry a small notebook with me most everywhere.

I’m married to a wonderfully brave, gentle, and talented musician.

We started dating in January and married that November, and that is the only thing I have ever done and will ever do quickly.

I began falling in love with him when he described my evangelism as, “kicking ass.”

My mother is an author/professor; my father is an accountant/triathlete; my sister is a florist/artist. They all make me awfully proud.

And I’m trying very hard to be brave.