We received this message on Instagram the other day.
"Could I ask you a question? You don't have to answer, but I would love another photographer's perspective. What did you do when you felt like giving up and stopping creating art? When you have no one in your world to help push you forward?"
That question really hit me. I've been thinking about how to respond for days. Not because I didn't know what to say, but because I know exactly what that feeling feels like. I know how heavy it can be because I still feel it sometimes too.
I don't think the question is really about photography. It's about trying to find the strength to keep going on the days when everything feels pointless and impossible.
David and I know that feeling. If I'm being completely transparent, I can't even count the number of times we've wanted to give up. Not because we stopped loving photography or building sets, but because choosing a creative life is hard. It's vulnerable...
You spend hours, days, sometimes weeks making something that means a lot to you...and then you put it into the world hoping someone connects with it.
Sometimes they do. Sometimes it feels like no one even notices. Sometimes the jobs don't come. Sometimes the encouragement doesn't come.
And if you've ever felt that...I'm really sorry. Because I know how deeply that can hurt.
One thing I've learned is that loving creativity and building a life around creativity are two completely different things.
David and I have had to be incredibly creative not just in the way we make photographs, but in the way we've built a life around them. We've had to reinvent ourselves more than once. Learn skills we never expected to learn. Start over. Change direction. Make mistakes. Figure things out as we went. It's been a beautiful journey, but it has also been a bumpy one, filled with some really high highs and some very low lows.
I think that's one of the hardest parts about choosing a creative life. The path isn't a straight line. There isn't a checklist that tells you, "Do these five things and you'll make it." There aren't clear milestones that reassure you you're headed in the right direction. Most of the time you're just trying to figure it out while wondering if you're doing enough.
You're constantly comparing your behind-the-scenes to someone else's highlight reel, questioning your decisions, and hoping that all of these small, quiet acts of creation are leading somewhere, even when you can't see where that somewhere is yet.
You don't have to see the whole path in front of you. You just have to see far enough to take the next small step.
This question touched the deepest, most vulnerable hidden parts of me. Because they asked out loud something I've spent years trying not to admit. Feeling like you're not good enough—or that your work isn't good enough—really hurts.
And I felt ashamed for admitting that I really do feel like that sometimes.
The vulnerability and honesty in the question really connected with me. If I feel this way sometimes, and they feel this way sometimes, it made me wonder how many people are quietly carrying this feeling. And how many people are letting this feeling stop them?
Feelings are powerful, but they are also temporary. They can convince us that we'll always feel this way, but I've learned that's rarely true. Just because we can't see the path forward today doesn't mean there isn't one. Be patient with yourself, and don't make big decisions on your hardest days.
Creating has brought me so much joy, but it's also brought comparison, self-doubt, fear, rejection, financial stress, and moments where I've wondered if I was wasting my time.
I think that's just part of making something that matters to you. The more you care...the more vulnerable it feels.
But there are a few things that always help me find my way back. Because at the end of the day, the desire in me to keep creating and keep sharing is stronger than the negative feelings.
I think the essence of the question being asked is, "How do I protect hope when I feel like I'm losing it?"
I've experienced enough of these dark moments now that I can recognize them sooner and find my way through them a little more gently than I used to.
The first thing I've noticed is that whenever I feel like giving up...
My self-talk has usually taken a really negative turn.
It's amazing how quickly my own mind can become the least supportive place I have. I can be so mean to myself. Suddenly nothing I've made feels good enough. I'm not good enough. Everyone else seems more talented. I convince myself I've fallen behind.
I start believing thoughts that I would never say to another human being.
The first place I usually turn is YouTube. Jim Rohn. Tony Robbins. Bob Proctor. Charlie Rocket. Gabrielle Bernstein. It almost doesn't matter who it is. I just need someone to remind me that this feeling isn't the end of my story. Someone to fill me with some hope when all of mine has evaporated.
So even if there is no one in your physical life to encourage you, you can find something there.
After that I usually listen to some sort of affirmations. More than anything, they help quiet the really negative voice inside of my head. A few years ago, I recorded some of the creative affirmations I say to myself. You can use those if you don't know where to start.
The affirmations don't suddenly erase my doubts. But they help quiet the voice telling me I can't do this long enough for another voice to speak up—the one that reminds me why I started.
There will be seasons where no one is cheering you on. No one comments. No one reaches out. No one wants to hire you.
So you have to grasp at hope anywhere you can find it.
The next thing I usually do is sort of brain dump all of my negative thoughts into my journal. I literally list out all the reasons I can't create.
There's something about seeing your fears on paper that makes them feel less scary. They're a lot less convincing once they're staring back at me from a notebook instead of bouncing around in my head.
Then I make myself reframe every single one of them.
"I don't have enough space."
becomes...
"What space do I have?"
"I don't have enough time."
becomes...
"What time do I have?"
"I can't because..."
becomes...
"What if I can?"
That little exercise helps me stop seeing limitations and start seeing possibilities.
It reminds me that creativity has never been about perfect circumstances.
It's about using what you have.
A lot of people give up because they expect the results to come too quickly. But when I look back at my own journey so far, the biggest changes in my creative life almost never happened because of one incredible day. They happened because I kept showing up on hundreds of ordinary ones.
It's funny because while you're living it, it rarely feels like progress. It just feels tedious and uneventful. Posting another photo. Having another idea. Trying again. But one day you look back and realize all of those ordinary days quietly changed you.
It's natural to work hard for a few weeks, not get the results you want, and get discouraged. But a creative life isn't linear. Results don't come right away. They compound over time.
Consistency creates momentum. And momentum has a way of changing your life so slowly that you hardly notice it until one day you look back and realize you're not the same artist—or person—you used to be.
One of the big reasons David and I challenge ourselves to personal projects is because it creates a framework for us to be committed and consistent with our creativity. We did our 100 Set Project in 2021, where we built 100 sets in one year, and we just finished our Attic Series, where we built 25 sets inside of our attic over the course of 100 days.
The main reason we do projects like that is because they get us to commit to something. They force us to show up and put in the work even on the days that we don't feel like it, because the project is bigger than just one shoot.
Growth is happening quietly. You're becoming more observant, more resilient, more patient. You're finding your voice. You're becoming someone who keeps showing up. The hardest part is that you usually can't see any of it while it's happening.
That's why consistency matters so much. Not because every day changes your life. But because every day protects your momentum. And momentum compounds.
The only way to lose that momentum...is to stop.
And deep down, I know my desire is just the tiniest bit stronger than my fear. So on the days it feels impossible, just do the smallest thing you can to push yourself 1% forward. The smallest steps are still steps.
I guess my whole point with this is that you are not alone. The strength to keep going is inside of you. On the days when it feels like no one else cares, you can be your own best friend.
I actually keep a picture of myself from when I was 4 years old. I look at it while I work so that when I get frustrated, I can think, What would I tell that little girl? Would I tell her to give up? Or would I remind her that she doesn't have to have it all figured out today? That she's allowed to be scared and keep going anyway?
If you've read this far, I just want you to know...I see you. I share the struggle and the pain from this crazy creative life we have all chosen to lead.
I think that's one of the reasons community matters so much. This person reached out because they were looking for someone to remind them they weren't alone. Maybe that's something we can all do a little more often for each other. You never know who is just one encouraging comment, one kind message, or one "I believe in you" away from deciding not to give up.
We can all be that light for each other.
I don't think the goal is to stop having days where you want to quit. I think the goal is learning not to let those days make your decisions.
Maybe no one has told you this lately, so let me be the one to say it.
I'm really glad you're creating.
Keep making things. Keep sharing them. Keep believing that your small, quiet acts of creativity matter.
Even on the days when you can't see it...
They are changing you.
I hope that, even on the days when your fear feels loud, you remember there is another voice inside of you too. The one that still wants to create. The one that still has hope. The one that believes there is more inside of you.
Listen to that voice. It brought you here for a reason.
