If you’ve made it here, I imagine you’ve already browsed through the services and the portfolio. You’ve felt something — and now, you want to know who’s behind the lens (and if she’s real).

So, Hi, I’m Maria Gabriela.
But you can call me Gaby.

I know this page is technically about me…
But really, it’s about why I do what I do and what that could mean for your family, your memories, your legacy.

I became a photographer the day I realized I was losing time. It was late. The house was quiet. My little ones had finally fallen asleep — one sock off, curls wild, yogurt still on her cheek. I stood in the doorway, watching. And suddenly, a thought hit me like a wave:

 “I won’t remember this. Not all of it.”

I had taken photos —many. But I hadn’t seen them like this. That night, I cried. Not because something was wrong, but because time was moving, and I couldn’t hold onto all of it unless I chose to truly see.

Since then, I’ve been chasing what most people miss.

The almost smile. The reaching hand.
The messy room with the afternoon light hitting just right.

I work with whatever light the day gives me: natural, harsh, soft.
It’s not about the perfect setting.
It’s about what’s real.

I don’t create pictures. I gather proof. Proof that love lived here. That your child was held, seen, and known exactly as they were.


I’m a mother. I’m a photographer.

I’m a quiet witness to the moments you think are too ordinary to matter until they’re gone.

One day, when your child is grown,
they’ll find these images.
They’ll press them to their chest.

And without a word,
they’ll know.

A few personal things just so you know there's a real human here.

When I’m not behind the camera or editing with my girls climbing all over me, you can usually find me reorganizing something (again), making meal plans I’ll probably forget, or romanticizing the ordinary — because that’s where I believe the magic lives.

I’m originally from Venezuela, now living in New York. I miss the mango trees, the Sunday lunches, and the noise of my people. But I’ve also learned to love the rhythm of this city, especially in the quiet hours before my daughters wake up.

Motherhood changed me. It softened me, stretched me, and made me want to remember everything. That’s probably why I photograph the way I do — not for the perfect shot, but for the feeling that stays.

I’m not the loudest in the room.
I’m more the one in the corner, watching the way your child looks at you when they think no one’s paying attention.

I believe in small things done with great care. In messes that tell stories.
In light falling on a cheek just right.
And in capturing the kind of moments we didn’t even know we needed to hold on to — until they’re gone.

This is a little window into who I am.
The rest… you’ll feel it in the photos.

One Day,

They’ll look at these images.

Let them find in them the love that raised them.

Let Gaby create the archive they’ll return to.