You’re in your Harvest Era

This differs from my typical photography posts, but I felt compelled to write it. Lately, I've been feeling the tides of change in my life and work. As I write this, my desk window is wide open, and my little red cardinal keeps popping by to say hello on the branch, curious and watchful as if he has something to say. It's these little moments that bring me back to the present. Despite the changes, I've never felt more grounded in my life or confident in my energy. This energetic shift feels rooted in honoring creative potential and surrendering to the unknown.

When I get ready for a shoot, whether it’s for a client or just during my own travel adventures, I find myself balancing two things in my mind: being completely present in the moment while also keeping a loose visual storytelling framework in the background. I start by being open to whatever catches my eye, tuning in to the energy of the scene or the emotions of the subject. At the same time, I hold onto a flexible mental guide, a narrative arc that guides how the visual story will unfold. At its core, a visual story is just like any other story — it’s not just a single image, but a collection of moments woven together, creating a rhythm, a sense of time, a deeper meaning or elaboration. Much like a well-crafted written narrative, it has a beginning, a setting, characters, and an emotional tone.

Why does this feel so hard? What isn’t working? Why doesn’t this feel as good as it did before? I’m not feeling as inspired lately…These are some thoughts that I have had recently, to be honest. Some were kind of always there, lingering in the back of my mind, and now have just started to bubble to the surface. I think every photographer will find themselves at this point of questioning their path and their direction. I don’t think it's a sign that anything is inherently wrong, but one that is actually a good sign of opening doors to go deeper into ourselves and our craft. We live in a chaotic, noisy world, one that is exacerbated by social media. We see people's highlight reels, their best photos, their best work, and the glossy photos, but what we don’t see are the struggles and challenges behind them.

Light is like our paintbrush as photographers. We use it just like an artist, sculpting and shaping our scenes. There’s something truly enchanting about golden light, the kind that feels like warm honey, with tones so rich they remind you of amber. This light is a dream, no matter what genre of photography you’re into. We’ve all been there, waiting for the sun to dip low on the horizon, casting its golden glow over the landscape. But consider this thought, if you will. If you’re always waiting for that perfect golden hour, you might be missing out on so much more. There are countless other expressions of light, so many different shades and subtleties just waiting to be explored. We have twelve hours in a day (depending on where you live, of course), and if you’re only holding out for that one fleeting moment of “ideal” light, you’re missing out on so many other opportunities.

At some point on our creative journey, we all find ourselves second-guessing. It’s just part of the process and life really. We start to wonder if we’ve got the right settings, if we should take that opportunity if we’ve captured all the shots we need, if the client will love the images, or if we’ve overlooked something crucial. These moments can feel overwhelming and uncertain, but they’re really just gentle nudges. Invitations to take a step back, reconnect with ourselves, and tap into something deeper. When people say “trust your gut,” what does that really mean? It can come off as vague or even frustrating in the moment.