For the past 14 years, I’ve built a photography business centered around client work. Sessions booked, galleries delivered, moments captured for others. It’s been my bread and butter—paying the bills, building relationships, and carving out a space for myself as a trusted photographer in my community.
And I’m proud of that work. Proud of the portraits, the horse shows, the families and riders who have trusted me to tell their stories. That kind of work matters deeply. But if I’m being honest, it’s not the whole story.
Lately, there’s been a quiet shift. A pull I can’t ignore. The call to make fine art—to create not just for clients, but for myself. To honor the parts of my vision that aren’t tied to deadlines or print orders, but to something far more internal: the need to express, not just serve.
There’s a big difference between making images to meet someone else’s expectations and making work that simply reflects who you are. The former pays the bills. The latter feeds the soul.
I want to live in a world where I can do both. I think many photographers feel this way, especially those of us who’ve been in business for a while. We start off doing what people ask of us—what the market wants—and somewhere along the way, we start to feel the itch to create something else. Something less polished, maybe. Something more personal.
For me, that "something else" is fine art. It’s been quietly knocking on my creative door for years, and I’m finally ready to open it. Not because I think it’ll be profitable. Not because I have a five-year gallery and publication plan. But because I need to. Because my inner creative wants to stretch, explore, and make work that exists purely for the sake of beauty, truth, and feeling.
It’s scary to say that out loud. To admit that client work isn’t enough anymore—not because it isn’t fulfilling, but because I’m evolving. I want to start paying homage to the things that move me: the quiet light, the overlooked moments, the honest scenes of Appalachian life and equestrian culture that I feel so deeply connected to.
Will I keep doing client work? Absolutely. But I’m also making room—intentionally—for fine art. For the kind of work that isn’t about deliverables or shot lists. The kind that breathes.
Because sometimes, we have to give ourselves permission to create just because. And that’s exactly what I’m doing now.