Heather C. Morrow
Where are you from and does that affect your work? I’m rooted in Altadena, and after losing my home and studio to the Eaton Fire, my focus shifted entirely to documenting what remained. In July, I premiered my photo exhibit “Bearing Witness: Fragments of Humanity” at the Artists and Makers Gallery in San Gabriel.
On January 7, I left with my dogs and my cameras (just because their might be the opportunity for taking photos). I never imagined I wouldn’t be returning home.
I believe art holds the power to heal. Surrounding ourselves with beauty can ground us, even in chaos.
Whether I’ll return to ceramics is still uncertain. For now, I’m leaning into photography—capturing moments that help me process, connect, and offer something restorative to my community.
We are so grateful to be able to watch your journey & dive back into your photography as you continue on this path. How did you get your start? My creative path began in the 1970s with a Kodak Instamax and the vibrant energy of Yokosuka, Japan’s festivals dancing through my lens. Watching my parents shoot with their Nikons, I was hooked early—soon becoming the unofficial photographer for high school plays, developing black-and-white film in a makeshift darkroom with my dad.
Over the years, my artistic spirit found new outlets: oil painting, then ceramics, which led me to convert my Altadena garage into a working studio. I sold my pieces at local shows, galleries, and online, always keeping a camera close. Though I embraced digital photography in its early days, it was the pandemic—and the ethereal pull of infrared—that truly reignited my passion.
Inspired by African photographer Piper McKay, I saw a new fusion: photography transferred onto ceramics. I dove into infrared, converted a Nikon mirrorless, and haven’t looked back. Today, I’m constantly exploring, crafting images that speak not just to the eye, but to the soul.
What would you say is the hardest part of your creation process? One of the trickiest parts of the creative process is not catching my mistakes in the moment I’m taking the photo. An instructor once told me, “Always check all four corners”—wise advice, but it’s just the beginning. There’s so much more to consider: light, composition, focus, emotion, intention. It’s easy to get swept up in the scene and miss the subtle details that make or break the shot.
What is your favorite piece that you have created and why? The Golden Tree remains my favorite photograph to date. I captured it in Yosemite during the fall of 2023, surrounded by fellow photographers carefully setting up their tripods. While they prepared, I instinctively moved closer—just me and my handheld camera. At that perfect moment, the sun crested over the granite walls, slicing through the low-hanging fog. Through my lens, the leaves shimmered like golden jewels. I knew instantly I had caught something rare and magical. When printed on metal, the image doesn’t just shine—it radiates.
What do you love most about Pasadena? When I first arrived in Los Angeles over 30 years ago, Colorado Blvd in Pasadena quickly became my favorite haunt—filled with shops, theaters, and that unmistakable charm. I used to wander its sidewalks, catching movies and daydreaming about living nearby someday. Despite being part of the sprawling Los Angeles county, it had a small-town feel that felt personal and inviting. The community’s eclectic spirit and deep love for the arts—from the Pasadena Playhouse to vibrant Art Walks—made it feel like home long before it was.
What is a fun fact about yourself that others may not expect? I have explored many art forms including painting intricate Ukrainian Easter eggs with wax and dye.
Where do you see yourself in 5 years? I’m holding onto the hope that I’ll be back in my rebuilt Altadena home well before five years pass. In the meantime, I’m pouring my energy into photography—building it not just as a passion, but as a meaningful business. My goal is for it to become a steady source of income by the time I retire from my day job, and more importantly, a creative legacy rooted in resilience and beauty.
Any advice for someone just starting off on their own?
Starting out as an artist means embracing the scrappy, messy, trial-and-error phase. You have to be willing to stumble—often—and keep going anyway. Not everyone will connect with your work, and that’s okay. It doesn’t mean they’re rejecting you personally. Because art comes from such a vulnerable place, it’s easy to blur the line between self and creation.
You are your own best advocate—your publicist, marketer, and storyteller. Sure, you can bring in help, but ultimately, it’s your voice, your vision, and your authenticity that people are investing in. And it’s the relationships you build—genuine, lasting ones—that will carry you through the highs and lows of your creative journey.
Anything special that you would like to share? I’m currently working on a deeply personal photography project titled From the Ashes, capturing portraits of individuals who’ve lost their homes—alongside something meaningful they’ve managed to recover. This series will continue through the fall and likely into early next year, and I’m actively seeking participants who are open to sharing their stories. If you or someone you know would like to be involved, please reach out to me at hcmorrow@gmail.com. These stories matter, and I’d be honored to help preserve it through art.
We are so ecstatic to see the community come together this fall!
Find Heather C. Morrow Photography at Jackalope Pasadena on November 15th & 16th.
Website: www.heathercmorrowphotography.com
Instagram: @ascapturedbyheather
