Ellie comes from a large family of smarty-pants. She could well have followed the pack, but instead was inspired by an eighth-grade photography program for gifted students. Had she not been identified as “gifted,” she probably would have actually paid attention to her studies, and would be practicing law right now. But to her parents’ dismay, she's been in the photography business for over fifteen years.

To have thick skin in this industry is a necessity. Ellie’s mother toughened her up early by often saying, “Ellie, if you had been my first child, you would have been an only child.”

Once when crossing the border from Canada back into the US, she was asked what her profession is. Feeling especially flowery at the moment, she replied, “an artist.” She was promptly hauled from the car and her possessions thoroughly searched. Now when she crosses the border she says she works in advertising. Only slightly more respectable, but anything helps.

It is said that if a centipede were to stop and think about how it walks, it would get tangled in all its legs. Some things you just have to take on faith. Ellie goes about her craft in the same way. She could never explain her work; it’s just inside somewhere. It embraces the dichotomy of being both expressive and secretive. A story’s being told, but parts of it are withheld. You want to know more.