A Question That Followed Me Home
Every year, I return to Northern Arizona University to talk with photography and video students. This year’s conversation included a question that stayed with me long after I left the classroom.
Every April, I return to Northern Arizona University.
I graduated from NAU in 1992, and for more than a decade I’ve spent part of my annual trip back to Flagstaff speaking with photography and video students. What began as presentations to introductory classes has evolved into longer conversations with juniors and seniors preparing to enter the professional world.
These days, I keep the formal presentation short. I share a brief overview of my career and then open the floor for discussion. We talk about photography, video production, photojournalism, commercial and corporate work, marketing, and the realities of running a creative business. I often ask students what they want to do when they grow up, which always gets a laugh because I still ask myself the same question. After more than thirty years in business, I haven’t found a better answer than what I’m already doing.
This year, though, one question followed me home.
A student asked, “How do you balance family, kids, and your work?”
At first, I gave my answer and moved on. Over the following days, though, I found myself thinking about it more and more.
One of the reasons I keep returning to NAU is because the conversations never seem to end when class is over. Every year, students tell me how much they enjoy our discussions. What they may not realize is how much I enjoy them too.
The questions students ask today often reveal what their generation is thinking about, and sometimes they reveal what I haven’t thought about in years.
Over the years, students have asked me how I find clients, how I handle failure, how personal projects help us grow, and how I know when to say no to a project. Those are all important questions, and I enjoy discussing them. This year’s question was different because it made me stop and reflect on something I don’t think I would have ever asked when I was their age.
At twenty-two, I was focused on building a career. I wanted to know how to improve my photography, how to find opportunities, and how to make a living doing something I loved. Questions about balancing work and family weren’t part of my thinking yet.
Time has a way of changing your perspective.
When I was younger and building my business, I worked a lot. Long days and weekends were common. At the same time, one of the advantages of owning my own business was flexibility. I was able to be present for many moments with my children that I might have missed in a more traditional career.
Looking back, I cherish those memories. I also understand why so many parents wish they had even more time with their children. Not because they weren’t there, but because those years move so quickly.
Years ago, someone asked me whether I lived to work or worked to live. I’ve never been able to answer that question.
I genuinely love what I do. Photography, storytelling, meeting people, traveling, and building a business have brought me opportunities and experiences I never could have imagined. My work has rarely felt like something I needed a break from, which may be one reason balance has always been difficult to define.
I don’t think perfect balance exists. There are seasons when work requires more attention and seasons when family, friendships, personal interests, or simply slowing down deserve more of our time. What I’ve learned is that the things outside of work often make the work better.
As much as I enjoy my career, I’ve come to appreciate that some of life’s most meaningful moments happen away from work as well. Time with family, friends, and the people we care about has a way of putting everything else into perspective.
That’s what the student’s question reminded me.
Every year, students thank me for taking the time to visit their classroom. They tell me how much they learned from our conversation. What they don’t always realize is that the conversation doesn’t end when I leave.
Sometimes a question follows me home. Sometimes it stays with me for days. Sometimes it changes how I think about my business, my priorities, and my life.
The students come looking for answers. More often than they realize, they leave me with a few questions of my own.