shelby brakken grew up in the shadow of the space needle. the daughter of a glassblower, she spent her early years watching her dad create art on the daily, and she fixated on how glass looks like honey when it gets hot. he helped her take her first picture and in their basement darkroom, he taught her how to turn negatives into prints. the process was magic and she never looked back. through photography she became a storyteller and she has carried a camera with her ever since.
she is a lover of mix tapes and hardcover books and train rides. she takes her tea with milk and honey and she often wonders about the space-time continum. she feels that her parallel parking skills exceed expectation and she believes that salt water is the cure for anything. she usually remembers her dreams, she never turns down a good piece of fried chicken and sometimes she experiences fernweh: a consuming desire to be somewhere she's never been. when she is not photographing weddings, you can find her eating tacos in mexico, sitting by a fire in an idaho cabin or in her kitchen in portland with her two favorite small people: cooking fried eggs, dancing to prince and wearing socks that don't match.