About

Writing about yourself always feels a bit awkward. I'll keep it honest and skip the parts that don't really need to be out here.

How it started

I grew up in North America, in a family that did okay. Not rich, not struggling — just the kind of in-between where you learn to be careful with money without thinking much of it. My parents had some general ideas about where I might end up, but they weren't strict about it. They mostly just watched me disappear into the computer and hoped something useful would come of it.

There wasn't anyone in my world doing creative or tech work. No mentor, no family friend in the industry, no one to show me the ropes. I sort of figured it out on my own — messing with software, watching tutorials, making things that weren't very good and slowly making them a bit less bad.

The passion really took hold in my final years of high school. I'd spend my spare time making graphics, playing with 3D elements, cutting together little videos. I had no idea any of it would turn into a career. I just liked it, so I kept doing it.

That led me to a Bachelor's in Media Production, which gave the self-taught stuff some structure. Around the same time I started an internship at a startup sailing company in a multimedia role. It was a bit of everything — shooting photos, filming, editing, designing for their socials and site, pitching ideas to the team. That's where I got my first real camera, a Canon T3i, and started learning WordPress, Photoshop, and Sony Vegas Pro. A lot of small lessons packed into a short time.

After that I moved on to a production company, which is where things really shifted. I got to see how proper photo and video campaigns come together at scale — the planning, the crew, the kind of polish you can't fake with enthusiasm alone. That job quietly became the foundation for pretty much everything I've done since.

The thing that added a new dimension

Somewhere along the way I bought a DJI Phantom, kind of on a whim. I probably shouldn't have, honestly — it was more than I could comfortably spend and I didn't really have a plan for it. I just wanted to try it.

The first time I got it up in the air, something clicked. Not in a dramatic way — more like, oh, so this is different. Places I saw every day looked new from up there. Roads turned into shapes. Buildings became patterns. It gave me a way of seeing things I didn't have before.

It didn't replace the ground-level work I was doing. It added to it. My photo and video got a little better because I was thinking in more than one angle. The drone became part of how I worked, not a separate thing.

The first time I got paid for flying

My first paid drone job was a real estate shoot. Under $500. Nothing to brag about, but it was a nice moment — someone actually paid me to fly a thing I'd bought for fun. Real estate work isn't glamorous, but it taught me the practical side of running this as a job: how to show up prepared, how to deliver something clean, how to keep a client happy who just wants their listing to look good.

A lot of those early gigs were pretty ordinary, and some paid less than they should have. I took them anyway, because most of what I know now came from slowly stacking up small jobs over time.

Where I am now

These days the work is a mix — some commercial, some real estate, some editorial, and a few creative projects that don't fit into any neat box. I've had the chance to collaborate on projects with clients like Mercedes-Benz, Adobe, Corona, and Polar Pro alongside Peter McKinnon, which still feels a little surreal to type out.

What ties it all together, I think, is a preference for simplicity. I'm drawn to work that strips out the clutter and lets the things that matter actually breathe. My services and the products I put out try to reflect that — make the thing clear, make it honest, don't overcomplicate it.

I mostly work solo, and bring someone in when a project really calls for it. It's not that I'm anti-team — I just do my best when it's quiet and I can give one thing my full attention.

Outside of work, I ride my road bike and I game. Biking is a slow kind of patience — you just keep going, there's no shortcut. Gaming's a different kind of focus, more about reading what's in front of you and adjusting quickly. Both of them sneak into how I approach work in ways I don't always notice.

Going forward, I want to make more space for personal and creative projects. Client work has been good to me and I'm not trying to leave it behind — I just want more room for the stuff that exists because I wanted to make it, not because someone asked.

Alongside that, I keep putting out digital assets and workshops for other creatives, because a lot of what I know was picked up the hard way and I'd rather save someone else the trouble.

If any of that sounds like your kind of thing, I'm glad you're here.

— Trevor