Pinqy Ring, Chicago hip hop artist and educator, leans against a mural with a pink mircrophone raised above her in a rebellion pose. She has bright pink hair, a bright pink jacket, and bright pink shoes on over a black under layer. The mural is mostly pink and is written in Spanish and has the four Chicago stars alongside a navy blue map of Puerto Rico. The message is about not being quiet in a society that tries to make you go silent. To sing is rebellion.
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Blow It Up: My Favorite Piece of Business Advice

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I almost titled this “The F*ck It Method.” It’s how I’d say it if I knew you well enough.

Then I started second-guessing. I felt like I needed to soften it a bit to people who have yet to know me. Sometimes I say things in writing and people don’t realize it comes from a place of love and caring. The visual and auditory cues matter.

Maybe “blow it up” is the safer, more digestible version — same idea, less bite. And isn’t that a little bit awful, coming from the person who tells you being real is what draws in the right people? I feel it too. There it is — my own insecurity, laid out on the table. “Blow it up” is the version for when someone’s looking over your shoulder. In reality, I would use those terms in front of a group. Individuals are more likely to get the real me.

Because yes. I’m guilty of editing myself down too. It’s about weighing what’s appropriate for each audience. What’s more professional, more marketable. It made me want to gag a little. That’s the exact thing I’m about to argue against. I polished the one part of this piece that was supposed to stay rough.

So here’s what I actually do when I hit a creative rut in my business. I say f*ck it.

I’ve spent years taking art classes, then photography classes, then brand photography classes. I’ve learned from the experts who have “made it,” whatever that actually means. Maybe you’ve walked that same road in your own work. Not that long ago, my business was slow — slow enough that I was seriously thinking about closing up shop for a while, because it had stopped being fun and the hustle wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe I shouldn’t say that part out loud. But I’ve learned that real is so much more relatable. I’m willing to bet most business owners have experienced that feeling at one point or another.

That’s when I decided to stop trying so hard. I stopped running every decision through the filter of others and what I “should” be doing. I started getting curious about the person and the artist I’m becoming after over almost half a century of trips around the sun. That’s also right around when my business started being fun again.

Here’s what I’ve noticed since: when I stop caring what people think and just embrace myself and all my flaws, I calm down. I’m able to clear my energy and focus on the people in front of me.

I still feel nervous walking into a new room — that hasn’t gone away. But when I’m in a space that feels safe, I drop my guard and let my people in. Not every room is that room, and it doesn’t have to be. Nor is every person my ideal client. Nor will I accept every potential project that comes my way. Going against who I am inside never leads to my best work.

As a kid, I was often told to tone it down. I’d say something out loud and get the gasp — the you can’t say that look. I was born in the early eighties, when feelings were meant to be stuffed down, and women were still handed a long list of unwritten rules. I’m still unlearning a lot of that. The more I understand how that conditioning shaped me — and shaped a lot of women I know — the more I catch myself stepping back into the parts of me it tried to shrink. I say what I think now. With love, but I say it.

My website is one of the spaces where I’ve let my guard down. I don’t get to see who it repels — I only see who it attracts. Since I blew it all up by being myself, every single person it’s brought me has been a genuinely great human to work with. By the time we’re on a discovery call, it’s usually instant. We already know each other because they’ve read my words, relate in some way, and feel safe letting me into who they really are.

I talk about this a lot when I write about what actually sells in brand photography — it’s never the polish. It’s the human underneath it. And you don’t get to the human by being careful.

So when I find myself stuck, I stop being careful on purpose. I let myself make the ugly thing, say the wrong thing, follow the idea that makes no business sense. Most of it goes nowhere. But every so often, in the middle of the wreckage, a gem often emerges.

Even though other brand photographers are in Chicago, I don’t worry about competing. In all my collecting of brand photography expert strategies and theories, I’ve taken the best parts and made them my own. It came from me not giving a damn about what others think and doing what works best for me. I’ve learned that also works best for my clients. (If you’re wondering how to even choose a brand photographer, this post might help.)

I say it often: you’re not boring, but your brand’s presence might be. Every business owner I’ve worked with has a weird little spark buried under a dozen layers of “appropriate.” That spark is always their differentiator.

I’ve been thinking a lot since I began writing this post. Here’s what I’ve taken from it: Trust what’s deep inside you. It’s not about performing or curating an image. Trust yourself enough to let someone else see who you are. Your people are already out there looking for you right now, so help them find you.

I know how hard that sounds, because I curate images for a living, which sometimes goes against this idea. Here’s what it looks like from my end of the camera. When I’m culling a session, I’m not hunting for the flawless shot. I’m looking for the one where something true got caught — the slightly too-big laugh, the look that’s a little too soft, the moment that was just between poses, these I call (un)poses. These are the ones that make people say “That’s so me” when they open their gallery.

Next time you’re stuck — on a caption, a business concept, a whole rebrand — try blowing it up first. Write the unhinged version. Do the thing you’d normally cut. Let it be too much, too weird, too you.

You can’t manufacture that moment after the fact by cleaning something up. It only shows up when you loosen your grip and let yourself be seen without waiting for your own permission first.

For what it’s worth, I kept “blow it up” in the title. Some people might say I chickened out. I’ll embrace who I am and some rooms I ease into. This is one of those times.

Curious what it looks like to build a brand around your actual spark instead of the polished version of you? That’s what I love most. Let’s have that coffee and talk about it.