I realized recently that I have been a photographer for over two decades now, yet I had been telling others I had only been at it a decade. Time passes faster than we can register, I suppose, but it led me to reflect on how I got into photography to begin with. Nearly everything starts with a love of reading for me, but there were other influences as well. I used to pore over my Grandmother’s family photo albums, look through family Bibles for what was saved in between the pages, and later, when I entered college, my love of Appalachian Studies cemented my desire to document and preserve stories and memories.
Maps to a Promised Land
Both of my grandmothers were keepers of family treasures when I was a child, and for a curious girl those treasures were old photo albums, family Bibles, and other tangible memories. My mother carried that same tradition for my brother and me.
At first, what fascinated me were the faces staring back at me. Earlier versions of my relatives. People whose names I knew but whose voices I never heard. I remember the soft rasp of album pages turning, the faint smell of dust and aging paper, the way photographs felt cool against my fingertips.
When I slipped into her family Bibles, I was more careful. What lived between those pages was fragile. Sometimes it was a grandchild’s snippet of hair folded into wax paper, a pressed four-leaf clover, a small drawing, a yellowed newspaper clipping. Each discovery felt like uncovering a secret, like holding something sacred that had survived longer than memory.
And those handwritten family trees. They looked like maps to a promised land I did not yet understand, especially the ones tucked into old altar Bibles, names branching out in looping cursive, dates fading at the edges, generations layered quietly on top of one another.
What all of these artifacts taught me as a child was that your family story matters. But when I entered college and was introduced to Appalachian Studies, that understanding deepened. What had started as curiosity began to bloom into something larger, a calling to preserve what so easily disappears.
Discovering Appalachian Studies
During orientation at Mars Hill University, my freshman year, I met Cassie, who oversaw the Liston B. Ramsey Center for Regional Studies, and she invited me to do my work-study with her. Naturally, that led me to discover Appalachian Studies and declare it as a minor.
By the end of my first semester, I was once again immersed in treasures that reminded me of my Granny Webb’s home in Hot Springs. I spent my days digitizing old photographs and transcribing oral histories, listening to voices from another time through headphones while typing their stories into permanence. Without fully realizing it, I was learning to document and preserve memories academically.
In the spring of 2004, when a digital photography course rotated through the arts department, I knew I had to take it. I felt a pull toward becoming the family documentarian, and I understood that creating images would be part of that calling.
You may find it amusing that I did not even own a camera when I signed up. Thankfully, the university had just purchased a set of point-and-shoot Canon cameras, each with a manual mode for students willing to experiment. We had to check them out weekly, but I had found my door.
I was a declared English major with minors in Appalachian and Women’s Studies, and the world of art intimidated me deeply, but I was determined to try anyway. I was eighteen, curious, and ready for adventure, though I never imagined it would become my career.
And yet here I am, twenty years later, scratching my forehead and thinking, wow. Now, as time would have it, I am once again circling back to my beginning.
Poetry in the Frame: Seeing Appalachia Through Poetry and Story
There is a deeper reason I recently began reflecting on my journey in photography. Last fall, I was invited to return to my alma mater, Mars Hill University, to speak about that path.
I am honored to accept the invitation and present my personal vision and philosophy on place-based photography. The title of my presentation is Poetry in the Frame: Seeing Appalachia Through Poetry and Story. Below is an excerpt of the description of my upcoming talk:
In this talk, Greene shares how she learned to see — not only through a camera, but through mountains, memory, and language. Immersing herself in Southern Appalachian literature taught her to visualize scenes with emotional clarity, training her eye to recognize meaning in faces, landscapes, and even inanimate objects. Over time, that practice became her photographic voice: images poetically distilled, grounded in atmosphere, community, and lived experience.
She speaks to photography as an act of listening — feeling the land beneath your feet, sensing the story in a room, honoring the quiet dignity of place. Sabrina also offers a simple, confidence-first teaching philosophy: begin in auto, learn composition, and seek early wins. By building trust in one’s own vision, she believes anyone can learn to create images that carry both beauty and truth.
This talk is free and open to the public. It will be held on Thursday, March 26, 2026, at 6:00 p.m. in the Ferguson Health Sciences Building, Room 306. The space was selected for its updated technology so I can share my work clearly and fully with those in attendance.
For additional details, please visit Mars Hill University’s event page.
After years of photographing weddings, creating portraits, and donating my time to regional festivals and community events, I never imagined photography would bring me full circle. I did not expect to return to campus and be invited to speak about the very process that shaped me.
I have come a long way since my childhood days of pilfering through family heirlooms. Not once did I imagine I was creative enough to become a photographer. My path into photography was unexpected, but I remain grateful to the person who opened that door for me. Now it is my turn to begin opening doors for others.
