Out with the old…BUT don’t throw it away.

Yesterday I published my very first blog post on my newly redesigned website. After thirteen years, I finally moved everything to a new home and titled the post “Out With the Old • In With the New.” It felt fitting. I was leaving behind an old website, an outdated workflow, and years of relying almost entirely on social media to share my work. It marked the beginning of a new chapter, one where my photography, artwork, writing, and creative projects could finally live together under one roof.

I went to bed feeling pretty good about it.

Then this morning, over my coffee, I read an essay by artist and author Danny Gregory titled Unpublishable. If you’ve never read Danny’s work, I highly recommend it. His essays have a way of taking something seemingly ordinary and turning it into a reflection that quietly stays with you long after you’ve finished reading.

In this week’s essay, Danny writes about a battered cardboard box he’s carried around for decades. Inside were stories, essays and manuscripts he had written as a teenager and in his twenties. They had been rejected, forgotten, and eventually packed away. Fifty years later, he opened the box again.

This time, he didn’t see failure.

He saw possibility.

By the time I reached the end of the essay, I found myself thinking less about his cardboard box and more about the boxes sitting around my own house.

As many of you know, I’m preparing for my first art exhibition on November 29. The gallery is booked, the planning is well underway, and every week seems to bring another list of things that need to be done. Thankfully, I have someone helping keep me accountable throughout the process. One of the assignments she recently gave me was simple: go through your old photography archives and see if there’s enough material to someday create a photography exhibition.

To be honest, I’d never even considered it.

So I ordered an external DVD/CD drive because, apparently, we’re now living in a world where computers don’t even know what a CD is anymore. (Yes… we’re getting old.)

I dug out a storage bin filled with burned CDs from the early 2000s and started opening them one by one. There were photographs I’d completely forgotten about. Old projects. Portraits. Landscapes. Experiments. I even stumbled across the beginnings of a coffee table book I’d started putting together years ago.

Looking at those photographs through today’s eyes was a strange experience…and it’s not because I wear glasses now! Lol.

Back then, people often told me my work was among the best they’ve seen. I thought that was debatable, but I’ll take it. Looking at those same images today, I couldn’t help but laugh—not because they were bad, but because I could finally see how much I’d grown. Every composition I would crop differently today. Every lighting decision I’d approach another way. Every edit reminded me that experience is a remarkable teacher.

Then it hit me. Those photographs hadn’t changed. I had. And suddenly Danny’s essay made even more sense.

His box was filled with unpublished stories.

Mine was filled with unpublished photographs. For years, I probably would have looked at those images and focused on everything they lacked. Today, I see something completely different. I see a younger version of myself learning, experimenting, making mistakes, taking risks, and slowly becoming the artist I am today.

Maybe those photographs deserve to be seen.

Not because they’re my best work.

Because they’re part of my story.

It’s funny how quickly life can humble us.

Less than twenty-four hours after proudly declaring “Out With the Old • In With the New,” I found myself realizing that maybe I wasn’t supposed to throw away the old at all.

Maybe I was only supposed to let go of the things that kept me from seeing its value.

There’s a difference.

The old website? That served its purpose.

The old workflow? It needed to change.

The old habits? They were holding me back.

But those old photographs…

Those old sketches.

Those unfinished ideas.

Those abandoned projects.

Those dreams sitting quietly in boxes…

They weren’t holding me back.

They were waiting.

As I reflected on all of this, I began thinking about the many paths my life has taken over the years. Photography. Graphic design. Web design. Painting. Video production. Audio. Retail. Writing. Problem-solving. There were times I wondered if I had spread myself too thin by trying to do so many different things.

Now I’m beginning to think every one of those experiences was preparing me for this moment.

Every skill I learned.

Every project I abandoned.

Every success.

Every failure.

Every unexpected detour.

None of it was wasted.

It all became part of the foundation I’m standing on today.

We spend so much of our lives worrying that we’re behind everyone else, comparing our timelines to people whose journeys look completely different from our own.

But maybe we’re not behind. Maybe we’re being prepared.

Yesterday I wrote about embracing the new.

Today I’m reminded not to forget the old.

Because sometimes the old isn’t something that needs to be discarded. Sometimes it simply needs a new place to belong.

This reflection was inspired by Danny Gregory’s wonderful essay, I turned a box into a book. If you’re a creative person—or simply someone who’s ever packed away a dream thinking your time had passed—I encourage you to give it a read. It may just inspire you to open one of your own boxes. ❤️