Behind The noise.
“The strange thing about being bullied by people you don’t know is that they can still leave very real damage behind”.
I first discovered photography in 2021, after spending fifteen years working as a freelance model. My time in the modelling industry taught me resilience, independence and how to remain confident in challenging environments. After settling down with my partner, I decided it was time to step away from modelling and pursue something new. What I didn’t realise at the time was that I would soon find myself on the other side of the lens.
For many years, even through my teens, I struggling with on-going health issues, however, nothing could have prepared me for being diagnosed with Endometriosis in 2023, followed by Adenomyosis in 2024.
During that period, my photography became my escape, a way to focus my energy on something positive and fulfilling. I have always had a passion for motorsport, mainly motorcycle racing and motorbikes in general, so naturally I combined the two and began photographing track days for my partner and his friends.
At the time, I was shooting with a Nikon D3000 with a standard kit lens. Even now, I still look back at those early photographs. There is something very rewarding about seeing where the journey began and recognising how much progress has been made since then. Comparing my work from those early days to now reminds me how grateful I am to everyone who has supported me along the way; whether through advice, encouragement or simply believing in my potential.
In late 2023, my mum gifted my husband and I tickets to attend the British Superbikes at Brands Hatch. I needed something to distract me from the rollercoaster ride I was currently on with my health. It was our first experience at an event of that scale, and one that would ultimately shape the direction of my photography journey. We converted our van into a camper and headed off for what became the first of many race weekends. The weather was far from ideal, with heavy winds and rain throughout the weekend. I still remember waking up during the night to find the gazebo legs collapsing beneath the wind. By the following morning, the campsite was in chaos; but instead of letting it ruin the experience, we laughed it off and carried on enjoying the weekend.
What truly stayed with me, however, were the photographs I captured. I was amazed by the sheer speed and intensity of the bikes on track. The atmosphere, the adrenaline, and the energy of the racing were unlike anything I had ever experienced before. At times, I found myself putting the camera down simply to watch in awe. From that moment on, we were completely hooked.
Not long afterwards, we upgraded from the van to a caravan with an air awning, transforming it into our perfect race-weekend setup, and to aid my health just a little bit. Naturally, my photography equipment evolved too, as I wanted equipment capable of capturing the speed and precision of motorcycle racing more effectively. Before long, we became season pass holder’s and fully immersed ourselves in the world of two wheels.
As my passion for photography grew, I created my Instagram page, where I focused on sharing and developing my work. I began tagging riders, teams and sponsors of the riders in my images and I still remember the excitement I felt whenever they reposted, shared, interacted or even better, followed me. Those small moments of recognition gave me confidence, motivation, and the reassurance that people were genuinely connected with the work I was creating. It became the encouragement I needed to keep pushing forward regardless of the chronic health condition and to continue growing as a photographer.
My journey didn’t stop at British Superbikes. Before long, I found myself exploring other motorsport events, club meets and track based experiences to continue developing both my skills and my passion for photography.
A close friend invited me and my husband to attend an event at Brands Hatch for the California Superbike School UK and it turned out to be an incredible experience. The atmosphere was fantastic; fast bikes, enthusiastic riders and even a number of well-known YouTube personalities attended throughout the day. It was the kind of environment I instantly connected with, and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of it.
As always, I rushed home afterwards eager to go through the images I had captured. My camera wasn’t new enough for me to bluetooth the images to my laptop but that was ok because I wanted to go through them in a timely manner and look at every bit of detail possible. One of my favourite parts of photography has always been seeing the final results for the first time. I began editing the photographs, tagging riders, organisers and teams on social media and I was genuinely excited to see my work being shared and appreciated by others within the community. However, it was during this time that I experienced my first glimpse into the more competitive side of motorsport media.
A close friend contacted me to explain that someone from the official media team was unhappy that riders and attendees were sharing my images instead of theirs. In many ways, that moment marked the beginning of another new chapter in my journey - one where I started to understand both the opportunities and the challenges that came with photographing within the motorsport industry and I must admit, I didn’t like it.
I wasn’t entirely sure how to take the news. At the time, all I knew was that I didn’t want to create any problems. Photography has always been my escape. Every photograph I captured was taken from public spectator viewing areas, purely because I enjoyed documenting the sport. Due to this unfortunate feeling, I decided it was best not to attend anymore. My focus shifted fully to BSB, especially as I was receiving support from riders competing in the championship. Something that gave me a massive boost in confidence.
A few months had passed before attending yet another event, I was busy with hospital appointments, surgeries and recoveries. I attended several No Limits track day events. Before attending, I sent a message to the organisers asking whether spectators were allowed to attend with camera’s. The response I received was “Speak to the media lady,” along with a name. Out of curiosity, I clicked on the profile; only to realise I’d already been blocked. I was completely confused, especially considering I’d never even met these people before.
Despite that, I still attended the event with my camera and managed to capture some great shots. The same thing was happening as it did at the BSB too - riders were sharing my images across social media, which gave me a real sense of encouragement. Looking back, I still class that as a very good weekend for me, regardless of how I struggled so much with my health physically. Within hours of delivering my images on my Facebook page and Instagram, I had riders asking if I was attending the next event. I felt a huge demand and again, it was great.
As time went on, my condition continued to get worse. I was constantly in and out of hospital, missing important events, and struggling mentally. Through it all, I knew I needed to get back to the track. It had become my escape - the one place where I could switch off from everything else.
Sitting behind my camera on my chair, listening to the sound of racing, whatever the weather, brought me a genuine sense of peace. For a while, I felt normal again.
Most people at the track had no idea what I was dealing with, and why would they? Endometriosis is an unseen condition. Some would stop to say hello, while others were just soaking up the atmosphere or hurrying to the next corner to catch the action. It was one of the few places where I wasn’t defined by my health.
I made sure every day of my annual leave from my full time job was booked around race weekends, often planning medial appointments around events whenever I could. Which shows how much motorsport photography means to me. It wasn’t just a hobby anymore - it has become a vital part of keeping me going.
Eventually, the place that gave me so much freedom became another reminder of how much my condition had progressed. Just getting around the track was becoming a challenge. Although my husband was always there to help carry my camera equipment, I knew I needed to find something that would help me continue with my photography. I just didn’t fully know what that was…
“Photography isn’t just a hobby, it’s my healing”
I had a free weekend and felt like getting back out with my camera for the first time in quite a while. I started looking around to see what photography opportunities and events were taking place nearby.
We’d left it too late to book the campsite for Oulton Park, BSB, and with the circuit being a bit of distance from London, we started looking at other options. That’s when I reached out to an old friend to see if he was still working for Bemsee and attending Snetterton. As it turned out he is still there, so I thought why not give that a go? I researched Bemsee and browsed their website, British Motorcycle Racing Club, one of the UK’s oldest motorcycle racing clubs. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to try something different.
We knew camping was an option, so we decided to make a weekend of it. Due to the complexity of my condition, one of the main reasons we brought a caravan was for the toilet facilities.
Having a caravan with its own bathroom gave me back a sense of independence and peace of mind. It meant I no longer had to worry about making it to the toilet in time or risking a fall in the middle of the campsite, allowing me to relax and enjoy race weekends again.
I hadn’t seen my friend for a few years, despite having known him for at least 15 years, probably longer. It was brilliant to catch up again. I introduced him to my husband and, within seconds, he was winding him up for being short. To be fair, his nickname is “Titch” for a reason! That kind of banter has always been part of our friendship. It was like no time had passed at all, and it reminded me just how much id missed those moments.
After saying goodbye to my friend, Titch and I slowly made our way to a familiar spot around the circuit - Murrays Corner. It was one of the closest spectator areas to the paddock, making it the most accessible option for me. I set up my camping chair, got my camera ready, and immersed myself in photographing the bikes as they powered through the corner. It felt incredible to be back doing what I love.
Later we decided to venture over to the Bomb Hole, one of the furthest points of the circuit. It wasn’t an easy journey. We had to stop several times along the way, alternating between walking, sitting down to rest and pausing completely whenever my legs needed a break. It took us much longer than it once would have, but we got there in the end.
Every photograph I captured that day felt like a reminder that, despite the challenges my condition presented, I was still able to enjoy the sport that meant so much to me. As usual, the weekend flew by. We packed up our caravan and headed home.
Editing these images was an incredibly enjoyable experience. I love seeing the wide variety of bikes, each with their own unique colours and designs. Once I finished editing, I was genuinely impressed with the results and couldn’t wait to share them. I posted a selection of the images on instagram and Facebook, where they received a fantastic response. The engagement was much higher than expected, with plenty of interactions and new followers across both platforms. It was a rewarding feeling to see my work appreciated by so many people.
Inspired by the positive feedback, I immediately looked up the next event on the calendar, which was Donington Park National. I messaged my friend to let him know we’d be attending, and he was just as excited as we were.
As with every race meeting, my routine remains the same. I spend the day capturing the action before heading back to the caravan to edit a selection of images, aiming to publish them later that same evening. The caravan isn’t just useful for the convenience of having toilet facilities -it’s also an ideal workspace. With the generator, I can keep my camera batteries charged, iPad, phone and other equipment, allowing me to edit and upload photographs without interruption.
Moving on from this... This was the start of the noise for me.
On the journey home from Donington, my friend sent me a WhatsApp message to say that one of the media officials had approached him to ask about me. According to my friend, concerns had been raised about riders and teams choosing to use some of my photographs. I was surprised to hear this, particularly as I had never intended to compete with anyone or undermine the work of the official media team.
Her main concern appeared to be that riders and teams were choosing to use some of my photographs instead of hers in their race reports. From my perspective, I was only sharing my work with people who appreciated it. What disappointed me the most was that she chose to raise the issue through my friend rather than speaking to me directly. Especially as I have never met nor spoken to this woman before.
As the season progressed, several interactions left me with the impression that my attendance was being discouraged.
Fortunately, I’ve faced far greater challenges in my life, especially with my health, so I wasn’t prepared to let someone whom I had never met discourage me from pursuing something I genuinely enjoyed. I wasn’t prepared to just stop attending like I did at Brands Hatch that time. Enough is enough, I won’t be bullied by these people.
I remained in regular contact with my friend, who understood that I had no intention of replacing anyone within the media team, regardless of how many times I was actually asked.
To demonstrate that I was taking my photography seriously and to encourage riders and teams to obtain images through proper channels, I created a website where photographs could be purchased for a small fee. I hoped this would put an end to the criticism and misunderstandings, but unfortunately it didn’t.
I decided the healthiest option was to remove myself from the situation. I blocked the individual across my social media accounts and chose not to engage any further.
I later became aware that concerns were being raised about me with the event management. However, from my perspective, I had not done anything wrong. Ultimately, riders and teams are free to choose the images they want. If they selected my work, I could only assume it was because it suited their needs and reflected the style of photography they were looking for.
With access to my own social media removed, attention appeared to shift towards my friend’s account, where he regularly shared my images from his personal Facebook profile whenever I posted new work. On one occasion, he also shared a post expressing how much he enjoyed seeing me and meeting Titch. This led to him being contacted and asked to remove the term “Unofficial photographer” from his post. He declined to do so. From his perspective, this request was unnecessary, particularly as the post was made on his private account. He continued to support my work as he saw fit.
During this time, I was getting unknown messages filtered from my instagram telling me to stop giving away free images. They were constant for about a day or two. I just ignored them.
There were also further concerns raised with event management regarding references to my name, but as these related to a personal social media account, no action was taken.
It became clear to me that the situation had escalated beyond a professional disagreement, although the underlying reasons for this remained unclear.
I thought the hardest part of my journey would be learning photography while living with chronic illness. I was wrong. I was about to discover that sometimes the biggest challenges happen away from the track.
Photography has taught me far more than shutter speeds and camera settings. It has taught me resilience, patience and the importance of staying true to yourself, even when others misunderstand your intentions. Looking back, I wouldn't change the journey—not even the difficult parts. Without them, I wouldn't have discovered what really matters.
