There have been moments—many, honestly—where I’ve asked myself:
“Is it worth it?”
After the unpaid invoices.
After the stolen images.
After the people I trusted walked away the second I asked to be respected.
I’ve poured myself into projects that gave nothing back.
I’ve built platforms for others to stand on while my own footing crumbled.
I’ve given away more time, more energy, more creative labor than I’ll probably ever get credit for.
And yet…
I still believe in the work.
I believe in the magic that happens when a photograph gets it right.
When a rider sees their bond with their horse captured honestly.
When a piece of art outlives the moment and becomes a memory.
When storytelling matters more than scrolling.
What I don’t believe in anymore is martyrdom for art.
I no longer believe I have to lose money to prove my passion.
I don’t believe being “nice” means being a doormat.
And I don’t believe that protecting my value makes me any less dedicated to the craft.
I’ve learned to separate the work from the people who mishandled it.
My love for photography was never the problem.
But who I gave it to—and under what terms—that had to change.
And it has.
Now, I still create with heart—but also with contracts.
I still photograph with soul—but also with strategy.
And I still show up fully—but only for those who respect the labor it takes to do so.
So yes—after everything—I still believe in the work.
I just finally believe in myself enough to do it on my terms.
