There comes a point when you look at the life you’ve built, tilt your head a little, and think, Huh… this doesn’t fit the way it used to.
That’s where I’ve been standing lately, in that strange place where something you’ve poured yourself into no longer feels like the thing you want to carry.This is the story of why I’m sunsetting my photography business.
When the Thing You Love Starts Feeling Heavy
Photography has been with me for decades—my second language, my constant companion, the way I memorialize my world. But somewhere along the way, what once felt like play started to feel like pressure.
And not the artistic kind. The timeline kind.
We live in a world that moves fast. Faster than my creative process wants to move. So many people expect images immediately — sometimes the same day, often long before a realistic timeline. But what many folks never see is how much time lives behind the scenes: the culling, the editing, the retouching, the quiet hours shaping a photograph into something compelling.
Some photographers have mastered managing those expectations. They set tight boundaries, they have airtight workflows, and they protect their time like seasoned pros. I admire that. I could learn it, practice it, bake it into my routine.
But I’m at a point where I don’t want to. Because my priorities have shifted in a big way.
Photography has been with me for decades—my second language, my constant companion, the way I memorialize my world. But somewhere along the way, what once felt like play started to feel like pressure.
And not the artistic kind. The timeline kind.
We live in a world that moves fast. Faster than my creative process wants to move. So many people expect images immediately — sometimes the same day, often long before a realistic timeline. But what many folks never see is how much time lives behind the scenes: the culling, the editing, the retouching, the quiet hours shaping a photograph into something compelling.
Some photographers have mastered managing those expectations. They set tight boundaries, they have airtight workflows, and they protect their time like seasoned pros. I admire that. I could learn it, practice it, bake it into my routine.
But I’m at a point where I don’t want to. Because my priorities have shifted in a big way.
A Creative Spark Reignited
This fall at Long Beach City College changed everything for me. Fourteen weeks surrounded by painters, designers, photographers, dancers, musicians, and makers of every sort—it was like walking into a room where everyone speaks the same first language you do.
Being in that environment cracked something open. I started feeling curious again. Inspired again. Hungry again.
And that’s when I realized: I want to spend my time creating what I want to create. I want to take the photos that call to me, not the ones on someone else’s deadline. I want to write more. The words have been piling up in my head for years. I want to experiment with AI music, because while lyrics come naturally to me. The melod—not so much. And that challenge feels… exhilarating.
This fall at Long Beach City College changed everything for me. Fourteen weeks surrounded by painters, designers, photographers, dancers, musicians, and makers of every sort—it was like walking into a room where everyone speaks the same first language you do.
Being in that environment cracked something open. I started feeling curious again. Inspired again. Hungry again.
And that’s when I realized: I want to spend my time creating what I want to create. I want to take the photos that call to me, not the ones on someone else’s deadline. I want to write more. The words have been piling up in my head for years. I want to experiment with AI music, because while lyrics come naturally to me. The melod—not so much. And that challenge feels… exhilarating.
New Avenues, New Adventures
My photography business started as a side hustle. A helpful way to earn a little extra. But the technology, bless its chaotic heart, has opened up whole new ways to make that extra cash — ways that align much more naturally with where my energy is going now.
And I’m leaning in.
I know the things I make from here on out won’t be for everyone. Some people will love it, some won’t. Art isn’t supposed to be universal. It’s supposed to be real.
And I truly believe there’s an audience out there — maybe big, maybe small — for the kind of work I’m stepping into. The only way to find them is to create, release, repeat.
My photography business started as a side hustle. A helpful way to earn a little extra. But the technology, bless its chaotic heart, has opened up whole new ways to make that extra cash — ways that align much more naturally with where my energy is going now.
And I’m leaning in.
I know the things I make from here on out won’t be for everyone. Some people will love it, some won’t. Art isn’t supposed to be universal. It’s supposed to be real.
And I truly believe there’s an audience out there — maybe big, maybe small — for the kind of work I’m stepping into. The only way to find them is to create, release, repeat.
A Season Ending, A New One Beginning
I’m not stepping away from photography as a whole. Not at all. I’m stepping away from the business of it. I want the craft back. I want the joy back. I want the freedom to chase ideas without a clock ticking behind me.
So I’m choosing a new season. One with a little more air. A little more curiosity. A little more space to rediscover the parts of myself that got buried under deadlines and expectations.
To everyone who trusted me with your moments — thank you, genuinely. Those experiences shaped me more than you know.
And now… I’m ready to see where this next chapter leads. Here’s to creating from joy again — and to following the light wherever it goes.
I’m not stepping away from photography as a whole. Not at all. I’m stepping away from the business of it. I want the craft back. I want the joy back. I want the freedom to chase ideas without a clock ticking behind me.
So I’m choosing a new season. One with a little more air. A little more curiosity. A little more space to rediscover the parts of myself that got buried under deadlines and expectations.
To everyone who trusted me with your moments — thank you, genuinely. Those experiences shaped me more than you know.
And now… I’m ready to see where this next chapter leads. Here’s to creating from joy again — and to following the light wherever it goes.
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