All Things End

They say that all things must come to an end.  And even though we may be prepared for it, watching something you love go away is never easy.

I completed my last session with Studio Ainsley yesterday afternoon. Fittingly, it was a newborn session. Thankfully, it was purely magical. The family was a joy to work with, the baby slept through the entire ordeal, the light was divine, and the colors and imagery were some of the best work I’ve ever done. I am proud to have ended my photography career in Houston this way.

I knew this session was going to be it. It’s been on my calendar for months. This was the last one. Done. Finished. Never to worry about another job or email or phone call.  I was about to be liberated. So I expected to feel lighter and more free when I knew it was all over. I could stop being chained to my computer dealing with demanding clients and late hours in the editing room. No more renting lenses, shipping out orders, running errands, buying props, rearranging my schedule, doing research online for lighting, posing, inspiration.  Because this was never a hobby. Frankly, it was insulting to many who assumed I did this “on this side.” That assumption devalued my work and made it necessary for me to justify myself constantly. This was always a legitimate profession, and it took a lot of emotional and physical energy over the last 12 years to make it work. But regardless of how much it took out of me to get to this point and how often I felt that running a studio was a weight around my neck, I was sad on my drive home. Sad and a little deflated. The excitement of being free of was tempered by this huge investment that I made in myself — and that my family has continually made in me — for many years. Has it been worth it? Did I always do my best? What will I do now?

Yes, it’s been absolutely worth it. I have shared in the joy of nearly a thousand families who have welcomed a baby, celebrated a milestone, and lived life with each other. A thousand, y’all. That’s a lot of history to be a part of. The ones I treasure the most are the two babies who were not meant to be long in this world, but I was able to give their families a few precious moments, stilled forever, to cherish the life that touched theirs (and mine) for always.

I always gave the best of what I was capable of. My work began small, messy, and uncertain. But through the faith of others, I was able to keep going and moving forward, always learning and growing in my craft. Now, I have incredible imagery that I can produce, which I would stand next to any photographer out there. Some days, when I was tired or overworked, I might not have been 100% present or enthusiastic, but I have done my absolute best to never let anyone down.

So, what’s next? Most people assume I am going to pick up the studio when I get to Washington, but I haven’t decided whether I will. It’s arduously competitive and requires more effort than I am ready to put forth at this point. Over the last 12 years, I have seen a meteoric rise in my business where I was passionate and profitable, then I smashed into a brick wall with rising rent prices, a dip in the economy, and (maddeningly) Google’s search algorithm that stopped me from getting found by people looking for newborn photographers. On top of that, the advances in camera technology have made it less likely for families to seek out luxury photography when they can snap a few suitable photos on their phone for Instagram. Even though Holton disagrees with me, I feel like it’s a dying art. Yes, I’m decent at it, but that doesn’t mean people are banging down my door to get it. I will take a little time to think about what my next steps are and what I want to accomplish. I will be patient.

For now, I want to spend time with my family and have faith that the best is yet to come.