How the Business Came to Life

For a long time, this business lived mostly in my head. Or halfway started in the notes app on my phone. Or on sticky notes sitting randomly in journals throughout the house. Or sitting unfinished in Lightroom folders on an external hard drive. Or in conversations with my husband where I would say things like, “I think I really want to do this,” while also convincing myself maybe I wasn’t ready yet.

The truth is, I’ve been building this forever. Or, at least, for years.

Once an artist, always an artist

Before photography, I was an artist. I am an artist.

Not professionally. Not in the sense of gallery representation or major exhibitions. But in the sense that I have spent years studying light, color, composition, and the quiet decisions that make an image feel like something.

Painting taught me that what makes a piece successful is rarely the obvious thing. It is not the perfect brushstroke. It is not technical skill alone. It is often the accumulation of hundreds of small choices working together toward a feeling.

That mindset has followed me into every corner of this business.

When I was building my brand, I was not just choosing colors because they were pretty. I spent weeks thinking about how different colors make people feel. How a warm cream feels different than a stark white. How a muted blue carries a different emotional weight than a bright one. How a photograph can feel calm, nostalgic, joyful, or intimate before you ever notice the subject.

The same thing happened with typography. Gallery design. Website layout. Even the spacing between sections on a page.

To most people, those details probably seem insignificant. To me, they are part of the experience.

I wanted this business to feel the way I want my photographs to feel.

Inviting.

Thoughtful.

Comfortable enough to settle into.

I think that is why I rebuilt parts of the website so many times. (Literally so. many. times… the website project started in July of 2025, and only went live in May of 2026 after working with two teams) Not because I enjoy making extra work for myself, although my husband might argue otherwise. It was because I knew how I wanted people to feel when they arrived, and I had not achieved it yet.

Painting has also made me a much more patient photographer.

When I paint, I spend hours studying the way light moves across a subject. The temperature shifts inside a shadow. The subtle color changes most people overlook. The way a hard edge draws attention while a soft edge allows your eye to rest.

Those same observations show up when I pick up a camera and when I then edit a gallery.

I find myself drawn to quiet moments, subtle gestures, and the way light wraps around a person. I notice color relationships. I notice atmosphere. I notice the things that often live in the background of a moment but end up carrying much of its emotional weight.

I do not think of photography and painting as separate creative pursuits anymore.

They are both ways of paying attention.

And in many ways, building this business has felt a lot like creating a piece of art. Not because it is finished, but because it is still evolving. Still being refined. Still teaching me something every time I come back to it.

Entrepreneurship and motherhood

I also do not think motherhood changed my photography in the way people usually talk about.

It was less “everything became magical” and more that I suddenly understood how fast life moves. How many tiny things disappear before we realize they mattered. The way the newborn scrunch just disappears overnight. The way your child’s hand fits in yours for only a season. The way their mispronunciations become corrected eventually and that cute little “peas” becomes “please.” The way a home feels while you are living inside it before it becomes memory.

I started wanting photographs that felt honest. Not perfect. Not overly posed. Just real in a beautiful way.

I think that realization is what finally pushed photography from a hobby into something more. Because once you become aware of how quickly life changes, it becomes harder to ignore the things that matter to you.

I found myself reaching for my camera more often. Documenting ordinary moments. Studying light. Paying attention. The more I learned, the more I realized photography sat at the intersection of so many things I already loved: art, storytelling, observation, and memory. My friends probably find it obnoxious that my film camera is just another appendage at this point. And the mirrorless camera sits on the counter most days, ready to go! Driving to daycare has become a study in spotting beautiful light (naturally almost always in places that are inaccessible for sessions, of course.)

Photography is becoming less of a practice and more of an identity.

At some point, the question stopped being, “Could I build a photography business?” and became, “What happens if I never try?”

That was a much harder question to answer. And if you know me in real life, you also know I do not really know how to do anything halfway. It’s a problem.

The growing doesn’t stop here

So when I say I have spent the last 18 months learning photography and building this business, I mean learning. And the imposter syndrome I felt first starting out? It’s still here. But, my husband recently told me something that really struck a chord:

“You can’t be an imposter if you’re learning.”

So, I have listened to an impressive number of podcasts while driving to work, folding laundry, pumping milk, and washing bottles. I have watched tutorials at 2:00 am while nursing a baby in the stillness of the night. I have rebuilt my website over and over again because one font felt too formal or one gallery layout did not feel like “me” yet.

I have changed my logo. Then changed it again. Is it “right” now? Heck, I don’t know.

I have taught myself Lightroom workflows, website design, SEO basics, color grading, client experience systems, gallery delivery, contracts, questionnaires, backup systems, blogging, and probably twenty other things I did not even know existed when I first picked up a camera.

There are genuinely entire evenings of my life dedicated to figuring out why a mobile gallery layout looked weird.

I built my own brand board because I wanted every part of this business to feel cohesive and intentional. The colors. The fonts. The way the website feels. The way the images sit together in a gallery. Even the way an email reads when someone books with me.

I wanted it to feel like home.

Warm and artistic. Thoughtful and approachable. A little painterly. A little nostalgic. Honest. Not too perfect.

And honestly, I think the learning process has been one of my favorite parts.

Not because it has been easy. It absolutely has not. It’s been really freaking hard – but I love proving to myself (and my daughter when she’s big enough to understand) that we can do hard things.

There have been so many moments where I felt wildly behind or not qualified enough or frustrated that what was in my head was not translating into reality yet. I have second guessed my editing style approximately a thousand times. I compare myself to photographers who have been doing this for ten years and then have to remind myself that I am still at the beginning.

But I love learning. I always have.

Teaching middle school art has probably reinforced that in me even more. I spend all day telling students that creativity is built through iteration and risk and trying again, and eventually I realized I needed to listen to my own advice too.

So this business has become a lot more than just photography.

It has become proof to myself that I am capable of building something from scratch. Slowly. Imperfectly. Thoughtfully.

Not because I suddenly woke up one day feeling fully confident. Mostly because I got tired of waiting for confidence before allowing myself to begin.

So between teaching full time, raising my daughter, editing before daycare pick up, drinking too much coffee, and rebuilding it all approximately fifty three times, I finally launched the thing.

This business is still growing. I am still growing. I am still learning what kind of artist and photographer I want to become.

But I think there is something beautiful about building something slowly and honestly. I think there is value in caring deeply. I think people can feel when work is made with intention.

More than anything, I hope the people who step in front of my camera feel seen. Comfortable. Like they are allowed to show up exactly as they are.

And I hope years from now these photographs feel like little pieces of home.

So if you are here supporting this small beginning, thank you. Truly.

I am really glad you found your way here.