As a photographer, one of the biggest challenges — and responsibilities — I carry is to keep pushing myself to grow beyond where I started.
When I picked up my first camera 14 years ago, I dreamed of becoming a great portrait photographer. But then something unexpected happened: my attention, and my drive, were completely captured by horses and rodeo. That one shift changed the trajectory of my work entirely.
Since then, I’ve spent countless hours in the dust and the dirt, learning my camera inside and out, developing my editing style, and — most importantly — learning to become a great photographer for myself. I've studied graphic design, experimented with new tools, and even started dabbling in video (which is a whole other beast, by the way — mad respect to videographers, because I fully admit I’m still figuring that world out!).
So, where am I going with all of this?
Well, I’ve grown. I’ve tried new things. And now, I’m standing in front of a new set of goals — ones I’ve never really voiced publicly until now.
Driven by that same inner stubborn streak that helped me earn awards, land galleries, and secure publications, I’m feeling pulled toward something new: fine art and publication. I have a big idea stirring in my head — one I’m not quite ready to write about yet — but the first step is clear.
Right now, I’m debating submitting one of my images to a global equine publication for a potential feature. It’s exciting… and honestly a little scary. I don’t know exactly what it entails yet. I’m researching. I’m wrestling with which image to choose — or if I’ve even captured the image worthy of submission.
Because here’s the truth: even as artists accomplish amazing things, we are no strangers to self-doubt.
We wonder:
Am I good enough?
Do I deserve this?
Is my work ready?
And I’ve asked myself every one of those questions as I consider this next step — the potential of a feature, the idea of offering fine art prints on my website, and the evolution of my brand into something deeper and more intentional.
It’s a debate. But it’s also a beginning.