I'm a Photographer, a Mother, and a Wife!
Hi, I am Daniela.
But friends call me Dani! I’m a Dallas-based photographer, mom to two amazing girls, and proud dog-mom to three playful pups.
Funny enough, my journey into photography didn’t start with babies... it started with pottery.
Becoming a mom was one of the most life-changing and beautiful moments of my life. I loved my little munchkins from the moment I knew they were coming. But if I’m being honest, motherhood wasn’t always sunshine. Like many moms, I struggled with the loss of my independence — the feeling of being more than just “mom.” So I went back to work, hoping to find myself again, but my heart wasn’t in it. I missed my girls constantly.
Eventually, I decided to leave the 9-to-5 world and try something new. I threw myself into pottery, and it felt like therapy — calming, creative, and just for me. I started building a small business, but when I went to photograph my pieces, I wasn’t happy with the results (perfectionist alert!). So I invested in a camera and dove into learning photography.
That’s when something unexpected happened: I couldn’t stop photographing my girls. Sleepy newborn stretches, quiet cuddles, wild giggles — I wanted to freeze everything. I realized I wasn’t just learning photography to sell my pots. I was rediscovering a part of myself — the artist, the mother, the storyteller.
My first photography job was at Medical City Hospital, where I had the privilege of learning from experienced newborn photographers and some amazing nurses (the true heroes!). I learned how to safely pose newborns, soothe them, and work with them gently and respectfully. It was an unforgettable experience — one that shaped how I work today.
What started as a creative escape turned into a calling. I know how quickly these days fly by, how beautifully messy motherhood is, and how precious it is to hold onto the little things. Photography gives me the best of both worlds: being present for my kids and helping other families capture the moments they never want to forget.
