Meet Misty
Title
I’ve always been someone who notices things.
The way light falls across a room. The expression on someone’s face. A detail most people walk past. The beauty in something ordinary.
Photography gave me a way to hold onto those moments—to look more closely and ask, What am I really seeing?
Over the years, I’ve come to realize that learning to see is about more than making a good photograph. It’s about becoming attentive—to beauty, to people, to the world God created, and to what might otherwise go unnoticed.
That is what I want to teach.
The Art of Seeing began there.
Title
The next paragraph should answer a different question: Why are you the person teaching this? That's where I would naturally bring in your BFA in graphic design, photography background, documentary work, motherhood/homeschooling, classical education, and teaching. But I wouldn't make it résumé-like. Those experiences should explain how your way of seeing was formed.
Then a third, short section can answer: Why high-school students? That is where your role shifts from artist/photographer to teacher and mentor.
So the story has a very natural progression:
This is who I am → this is how my experiences shaped me → this is why I want to give this to students.
And I especially want to preserve that first sentence. “I’ve always been someone who notices things.” It may turn out to be one of the most useful sentences we've found for your brand because it explains the person behind The Art of Seeingwithout trying to explain the brand at all.
What I'm seeing across everything you've shown me is a pattern:
You notice.
You make.
You photograph.
You watch people.
You allow children to investigate things.
You get close to what they're interested in.
You document ordinary family life.
You travel and observe unfamiliar places.
You see possibilities in things other people might discard or walk past.
Then much later, those threads converge in The Art of Seeing.
That's a better founder story than “I loved photography, so I started a photography academy.”
And I would keep your original opening:
I’ve always been someone who notices things.
Then instead of immediately explaining that statement, show us evidence of a life of noticing.
Museum photograph.
A child discovering something tiny.
The train reflection.
Something you've made.
A human gesture.
A strange shadow.
An ordinary object you photographed because you saw something in it.
Eventually the reader realizes: Oh. This is how she moves through the world.
Then comes the deeper connection:
Over time, I began to realize that the things I valued most about photography weren't really about photography.
They were about attention.
Curiosity. Observation. Learning to look closely. Recognizing beauty and meaning in places we might otherwise pass by.
And those were things I wanted my children—and eventually my students—to learn too.
That feels much closer to the real foundation of the academy.
One other thing: seeing all of these together makes me even more convinced we should not make your founder imagery too polished. Your brand photography can be beautiful. But your story needs some photographs like these—family snapshots, imperfect frames, things being made, people walking away from the camera, discoveries held in hands. They provide the human evidence underneath the refined academy.
That contrast could become one of the strongest things about the brand.
you make things and you teach through experience. The branch-and-greenery installation above the piano is especially interesting to me because it brings your artist side into the story. You saw ordinary natural materials and made something from them. That is almost a physical manifestation of what you want students to do photographically: notice → imagine → create.
And the last photograph matters because you're finally in the story. I wouldn't necessarily use that particular image in the first social post—the toy gun becomes the thing viewers notice before they understand anything else—but I absolutely wouldn't dismiss it. What I see that's useful is you physically entering your child's world rather than standing outside directing it. That's relevant to the kind of teacher you are.

