Kiri didn’t set out to become a bird photographer. He started, like many young photographers do, by borrowing his mom’s old camera and taking photos at a small farm-based camp. The images weren’t perfect, but the instinct to notice was already there.

Being at Midland, surrounded by open land and wildlife, drew him back into photography earlier this school year. Seeing friends like Levi, Nico, and Luca (all ’27) working on photography encouraged him to take the craft more seriously. But his deepest inspiration comes from home. His mom’s love of birding—field guides, time spent outside, learning calls—sparked his curiosity, while his uncle, an optical engineer, deepened his appreciation for how lenses, light, and patience shape the way we see the world. In addition to family, his best friend Ginny works closely with birds.

“I wanted to take photos I could show her,” Kiri says about his mom. “Especially birds – and my uncle Peter is a camera expert. He was a photographer for his college newspaper, and went on to have a career designing lenses used in space.”

Bird photography, he explains, is less about chasing the perfect shot and more about waiting, learning how each species moves through the world. Hummingbirds hover and feed in quick bursts, sparrows gather near the creekbeds, and turkey vultures perch with wings spread wide, warming themselves in the sun.

Midland’s land plays a huge role in what he’s able to see. Without traffic, constant noise, or light pollution, wildlife moves freely—and students have time to notice.

“You’re not rushing home. You can go on a hike after class, before dinner, whenever, and just be present.”

Kiri often walks familiar trails, quietly moving between known “landmarks” where birds tend to gather, waiting through golden hour as hawks ride the wind overhead.

Through his friends and Photography Club, Kiri has learned not just how to shoot, but how to edit, revise, and see potential in images that once felt unusable. Students at every level mentor one another, sharing techniques and perspectives—and the school provides cameras for those just starting out.

Photography has changed the way he moves through the land: quieter, more observant, more careful.

“You start noticing rustling in bushes. You watch where you step. You want to preserve the place for the wildlife—and for the people who come after you.”

Looking ahead, Kiri hopes to continue photography beyond Midland, inspired by both his uncle’s work with optics and his own growing connection to the land. Whether as a field of study or a lifelong practice, photography remains a grounding force.

When asked what he hopes people feel when they see his work, his answer is simple:

“That there’s more to notice. That even the birds you think you know are worth looking at more closely.”

A reflection facilitated by Admissions Associate Jasmine Fullman