Last month I caught myself thinking about how this all started.
Not as a business, as something I simply loved doing. A way to stay connected with people and my creativity during the COVID-19 pandemic. Photographing people’s sexy sides, their softness and strength.
Three years ago, it had to turn into a business, because I needed to make money and I thought this had the potential to really be my solution. And with that came financial pressure, the constant mental load, the feeling that I always need to be “on”, visible, producing, promoting, explaining myself.
And lately, I’ve been wondering if I can still carry it all like this.
This isn’t a dramatic announcement, and it’s not me quitting overnight. It’s more me being honest about where I’m at right now, instead of pushing through and pretending everything is fine.
I still love sexy and kinky photography. That hasn’t changed.
I love working with people, seeing them soften, seeing that moment where someone suddenly recognises themselves in an image and goes, oh… that’s me. That part still lights me up.
What’s become harder is everything “around it”. Running this as a business takes more from me than I currently have to give – mentally, emotionally, and financially. And I’ve been trying to ignore that for a while, hoping it would somehow balance itself out if I just kept going.
But neurodivergent minds don’t really work like that.
We talk a lot about “growth” in entrepeneurship. About expanding, scaling, doing more, reaching further. But lately I’ve been feeling that my version of growth might look very different. It might look like slowing down. Like making things smaller. Like taking some of the pressure off, instead of adding more.
Not because the work isn’t good enough.
Not because it failed.
But because I’m really damn tired, and I want to take myself seriously when I say that.
I don’t have a clear answer yet. I genuinely don’t know what this will look like in a few months.
Maybe it becomes something I do more occasionally, when it feels aligned, instead of something that constantly needs to sustain me.
Perhaps it shifts back toward being a hobby, or something in between.
And that feels scary to admit. But it also feels honest.
For now, I’m still shooting. And I’m still creating this work with the same care, attention and love as always.
If you’ve been sitting on the idea of booking a shoot with me, this might be the moment to act on that feeling.
Booking a shoot right now doesn’t just support my work financially, it genuinely helps me move through this in a way that feels sustainable and grounded. It allows me to go through this transformative phase, without burning myself out or rushing into decisions I’m not ready to make yet.
I don’t know how long bookings will stay open in this current form. I may scale back, pause, or close them forever. So if working together has been on your mind, consider this your soft nudge.
