Capturing heaven one frame at a time

The world is loud, harsh, and fast.

It demands our attention and numbs us to the wonder we’re steeped in, like fish who’ve forgotten they’re swimming in grace.

Freddie Simshauser doesn’t photograph to escape the brokenness. He photographs to see through it. His images are prayers made manifest in pixels and light, glimpses of a beauty that still waits in silence, calling us home.

He once gave up on the good.

Let his fire go dim. Lost his “why” in the grind of what he did and what he had done.

Until one freezing night, crossing the tidal flats toward Mont Saint-Michel in a colossal sweater his daughter crocheted for him, something holy stirred.

The monastery rose like a beacon in the black, light diffused in mist, the sea folding around him like a hymn. And in that moment, everything came back: faith, story, image, calling.

Now, Freddie uses the camera not to impress, but to bear witness.

He waits in cathedrals, wanders coastlines, and tracks light like a man desperate to remember.

His hope is that others might remember too, what it felt like to be a child, eyes wide with expectant grace, believing that the world still held wonders for them.

Because it does.

And it’s never too late to find home again.