The Terrifying Joy of Being Your Own Brand

When I came home from Lofoten back in March, I found myself thinking about the future. Not because anything had gone wrong. Quite the opposite. Being there reminded me why I love photography in the first place. And one thought kept coming back.

What if I started running my own photography tours?

From Tuscany, 2023

It's not a new idea. I've thought about it many times before, but the timing has never really felt right. This time, it did.

Some of you know that I once tried making a living from photography. After about a year, I decided to go back to teaching, and I've never regretted that decision. There's something about turning your passion into your profession that changes the relationship you have with it.

Still, I've always hoped I could do a little more with photography. So I called a few people I trust and eventually asked my good friend Laura Oppelt if she'd like to build something together.

To my surprise, she said yes.

Next year we're launching our first photography tours together. Hopefully there will be more in the future, but everyone has to start somewhere.

Guiding takes many forms

I wish I could say that I was nothing but excited. The truth is, I've spent just as much time wrestling with my own thoughts. Not because I'm worried about the practical side of it. Building a website is manageable. Planning an itinerary is manageable. Marketing is something I can learn. What's much harder is putting my own name on it. Because once you do that, it suddenly feels very personal.

What if people simply don't think I'm the right person to do this?

What if they look at what I've created and quietly move on?

What if nobody books, not because the tour isn't good, but because it's my tour?

My imposter syndrome has definitely been working overtime.

The strange thing is that I don't feel this way when I share my photographs on social media. Somehow, that's become a comfortable place. But publishing galleries on my own website feels different. Inviting people to join my workshops feels different. Maybe it's because those things say, "This is who I am. This is what I believe in. I hope you'll come with me." That's a much more vulnerable thing to put into the world.

I know most people are far too busy with their own lives to spend much time judging mine. In fact, I've experienced nothing but kindness and encouragement from this community. And yet, it's still scary.

Maybe that's simply what happens when you create something that actually matters to you. Maybe vulnerability isn't a sign that you're doing something wrong. Maybe it's a sign that you're finally doing something that feels worth risking. So next year, we'll see what happens.

Maybe the tours will fill up. Maybe they won't.

Either way, I'd rather try than spend the next ten years wondering what might have happened if I hadn't.

In Norway we have a saying: Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I'm not sure what I'll gain. But I do know that I'd rather live with a failed attempt than an unanswered question.