UNTAMED IN SEDONA- SEDONA Wild women PHOTOGRAPHER

“Wild, untamed, and living in a natural state, particularly of animals that were once domestic”

Ahhh, how I love this definition of FERAL. I’m going with this theme for this lovely human and our recent photoshoot. It’s fitting for so many reasons.

To become feral is not to become lost—it's to come home to what is true. It’s a deep act of self-rescue, a return to the intuitive body, the untamed spirit. It is shedding the stories that kept her small. It is choosing instinct over performance, presence over perfection. This kind of becoming is not reckless—it’s restorative. It heals the parts of a woman that were taught to behave, to shrink, to serve before speaking.

A feral woman listens closely to her own rhythms. She knows when to rest, when to roar, when to walk away.

In her wildness, there is wellness—a remembrance of balance, of sovereignty, of soul.

She Belongs to the Earth and the Moon

There she is—bare skin kissed by sun and grit, standing in the wide hush of the desert like something ancient and holy. No clothes, no apologies. Just wind and wildness and the slow stretch of time.

She is not here to be watched. She is not here to be claimed.
She is here to remember her past and move into the present with grace.

Feet calloused by the journey. Hair tangled by the wind. Heart scarred from the past and healing with each step. She gets stronger with every gust of wind.
Her ribs rise and fall like the land around her—hills of bone, valleys of breath. There’s nothing tame about her. She laughs without warning, cries without shame.

This is not about rebellion. This is about returning to her wild untamed soul.
To the woman before she was told who to be.

She walks with fire in her veins, whispering intentions in no language-but instinct. She leaves footprints like spells. She howls at dusk. She listens to the rocks. She answers only to the wind and the wolves that remain in her blood.

She is a map of stars and stories.
She is sacred.
She is feral.
She is free.

She is a witch, though she may not remember.
All women are. It lives in the marrow—in the way we feel the moon in our bellies, in how we know things before they’re spoken.
The world taught us to forget.

But the wild always remembers.

“A woman must be able to stand in the face of power, because ultimately she is power. She must become fierce and unafraid.” -Women Who Run With the Wolves

This shoot was lightly styled. Two dresses and no dress.

It wasn’t posed.

It was permission.

Permission to shed expectations like clothing. Permission to feel the earth beneath skin. Permission to see oneself without filters or fences.

We hiked out to shoot 89 minutes before golden hour. The desert light hung low, casting long shadows and quiet magic.

There was something timeless about Ashley—as if she had stepped out of a dream we all used to have before we forgot.

The images that came through were raw and reverent. Nothing forced. Nothing false. Just presence, power, and the kind of vulnerability that rewrites everything you thought you knew about strength.

Sometimes the most powerful portraits come not from capturing a look—but from witnessing a becoming.

Thank you for sharing your magic with me Ashley. You were brave, vulnerable , real, raw, beautiful, adventurous, and FUN!

“To be ourselves causes us to be exiled by many others and yet to comply with what others want causes us to be exiled from ourselves.” - Women Who Run With The Wolves