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Alex is one of the very few people in my life where the connection felt complete from the very first meeting.

Friendship usually grows slowly. You meet, you get curious, you talk a little more each time, and after weeks - maybe months - you realize: this is my person. With Alex, there was no gradual build. I went to his workshop barely knowing who he was beyond “a photographer my friends trust.” I was honestly nervous.

But the moment I crossed the threshold of his home, something clicked. No awkward phase. No polite distance. It felt as if we were already mid-conversation, already understanding each other. As if the friendship had skipped the introduction chapter.

But this series is about inspiration.

And Alex inspires me in a very specific way.

I know very few photographers who continue shooting for years and still carry that spark in their eyes. Photography tends to split people into two paths: either you move fully into commercial work just to survive, or you quietly burn out and put the camera away. That’s why seeing someone who keeps creating — not from obligation, but from genuine curiosity - feels rare.

Watching him reminds me that it’s possible to keep your creative fire alive year after year — without losing the curiosity that made you start in the first place.

I often fear burnout. That one day I’ll stop feeling pulled toward shooting. That my camera will feel heavy. That I’ll have nothing left to say. And when I see someone who keeps moving, keeps creating, keeps thinking deeply - it reassures me. It tells me the flame doesn’t have to fade.

Another thing that inspires me is how easy it is to exist around him.

I tend to adapt to people. I smooth corners. I adjust. I avoid unnecessary friction. Sometimes maybe too much. And it’s rare for me to meet someone who communicates with that same softness - but without becoming weak.

Because Alex is not soft in a fragile way. He is open, kind, and easy to talk to - but he knows how to hold boundaries. He can say what he thinks. He can express what he feels. He doesn’t allow people to walk over him just to keep things comfortable.

That balance - softness and strength, openness and clarity - feels incredibly rare. And I respect it deeply.

Conversations with him flow effortlessly. About life. About relationships. About art. Especially about art. He has this ability to ask questions that make you think deeper - not instructing, not imposing, just gently opening a space where your own thoughts unfold. That’s something I would genuinely love to learn from him - the art of asking the right questions.

Also, I would be dishonest if I didn’t mention the cocktails.

Let’s just say he is the first person who made me drink a gin & tonic and actually like it. A drink I was absolutely convinced I hated. I’m still suspicious that there was some kind of sorcery involved. His Margarita is apparently legendary - I have yet to test that theory, but expectations are dangerously high.

Being around Alex feels simple, fun, and at the same time deep.

And if you ever feel stuck in photography - creatively or technically - he is genuinely someone worth talking to.

Not because he will teach you how to become like him. Quite the opposite. He won’t shape you into a copy of himself. He helps you sharpen your own vision. He pushes you to ask better questions - about your work, about your intentions, about why you create in the first place.

He could easily be a university lecturer. The kind students actually remember. Not because of rules or formulas, but because of the way he makes you think.

So if you’re lost, confused, burned out, or simply curious - don’t hesitate. Talk to him. Go to his workshops. Ask him questions. Subscribe to his Patreon. He is one of those rare people who are truly open - not just socially open, but intellectually and creatively open.

And those people are worth finding.

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Comments

Puhpowee

Wonderful description of Alex and the connection you found with him, Julia.