A long way back to myself, and my camera.

I'm Jaime-Lee Ridge — a photographer, creative, and storyteller who took the long way back to her camera. What started with a floppy disk and a high school assignment grew through travel, raves, real life, and the courage to leave the 9–5 behind. Today, I help people show up in their most honest, beautiful form — through imagery that feels like truth.

Before we had cameras in our pockets — or tied to our wrists at the club — there was me, a high school kid with a chunky digital camera and a single 3½-inch floppy disk that held nine photos. Respect.

We’d upload our assignments onto those colourful Mac computers in the early 2000s. It was clunky, awkward, and extremely limited — but I loved it. That’s where my artist side quietly started to emerge.

I learned the basics back then, but it wasn’t until college that things started to take off. In my 20s, I travelled often — chasing light, capturing landscapes, documenting the world in my own way. I was figuring it out as I went, learning how each damn setting worked, experimenting with depth, blur, movement, bokeh — all of it. My 20s were a creative playground.

On weekends, I’d take my camera to huge raves with my sister and friends — capturing the joy, the chaos, the connection — and uploading full albums to MySpace and the early days of Facebook. Even then, I didn’t realize I was doing what I’d later call storytelling. I just knew I had to document things as they really were.

People started to notice. But still, I didn’t believe I could turn this into something real. I was traditionally raised. You needed a “real” job — salary, benefits, pension — or you weren’t doing life right. So I pivoted. After a long stretch working in fitness and hospitality, I moved into banking — chasing security, stability, and maybe a little external validation.

My boss at the time — and my very last boss — wasn’t exactly inspiring. She wasn’t especially compassionate. In fact, she was wildly self-serving, kind of oblivious. However I'll say this: she was sharp. A smart businesswoman. And for reasons I still don’t fully understand, she noticed my creativity. And for that I’m thankful. I needed that hard experience.

She asked me to manage her social media — not just for her investment business, but also for her non-profit organization supporting women in business and leadership. I took the job, not realizing then that it was the early version of what I do now — telling stories, building brands, and shaping voices. Even in a world that didn’t fully align with me, the creativity kept slipping back in.

Then some life-changing shit happened. Mental health struggles. Burnout. Deep reflection. A long road of unlearning everything I thought I had to be. Eventually, I got fired — for speaking my mind and standing up for myself. And that, ironically, was the moment everything clicked.

I realized: I’m not meant for this crap version of life. I’m not here to be small, to check boxes, or to build someone else’s dream. I’m here to create — to do something meaningful, raw, and real.

So I listened to my gut. I started saying yes to the right clients, the right projects, the right kind of work. I followed referrals and surrounded myself with like-minded people who saw me for who I really am.

And for almost four years now, I’ve been working for myself — building a creative business that’s aligned, impactful, and deeply personal.

I've made the most money I’ve ever made. I’ve built deep, real connections with people who light me up. I’ve taken time to heal, grow, and come back to myself. And most importantly — I’ve done it my way.

Photography came back to me — but this time, with purpose. And it’s here to stay.

Thanks for being here. Truly. I’m just getting started.