Freelance doesn't mean alone

Looking back on 10 years (!) with a new logo and website

New logo and website at www.celestenoche.com

There was a time that I’d daydream of freelancing. In the months after my college graduation and before I found a job, I wondered what it’d be like to be my own boss. Part of me bubbled at the idea of dedicating all of my time to My Passion™, but the other part of me—the one that had no mentorship or resources for how to navigate this kind of career—felt sick and heavy with dread.

I spent years waffling over the decision to freelance because of my financial anxiety. How could I willingly choose a career with so much instability when my mother and family before her sacrificed so much?

I can tell you that a decade into freelancing, the heaviness hasn’t left— just changed. I feel it when I haven’t had assignments for a while, or when I look out at an open calendar ahead. When I spend hours on calls or treatments just for the client to “go in another direction.” When another pitch goes unanswered. More recently, it loomed in my months of pregnancy and lingered in the months that followed. I took my first postpartum assignment less than a month after having a c-section, carrying my equipment around an aluminum recycling factory and rushing the 1.5 hours home after since I didn’t have a portable pump yet. This year I’ve been feeling the weight in a new way now that we’ve started paying for childcare.

All design work and mockups by Kelly James.

Even with the privilege of a partner who works full time, the scarcity mindset is difficult to unlearn in this field because there are no systems in place to protect us otherwise. Our world and our ability to access information and connect with other people is richer because of independent artists and journalists, yet we have so little in place to sustain their work.

The ways that our society fails its people—no universal healthcare, no paid family leave, few and competitive resources for anyone who chooses non-traditional work— means that we aren’t creating an environment where people of all backgrounds and experiences can thrive. It’s another iteration of the idea that someone’s production value is more important than their person. That we aren’t all deserving of stability and support no matter how we choose to make our living.

It’s easy to look back on the past decade and remember the exact moments when this career felt like the wrong choice but the reflection also forces me to consider what’s kept me going for so long. My subversive heart and my refusal to report to someone else, sure. Deeper down, I know it’s community that has kept me afloat.

I’m not just talking about photographing people and sharing their stories— though creating meaningful work is certainly its own kind of motivation. I’m talking about the time Oriana told me “brilliance is communal” and that we all need “teams of people who support our greatness.” When Leena insisted I was her column photographer, going so far as to pay me out of pocket until the Chronicle agreed to take me as a freelancer (even though my photos often became section covers). Coley and Lizzie and Jovelle ready at a moment’s notice to talk through my stress texts and emails when advocating for myself feels like walking a tightrope.

As I was working to refresh my website, I was faced with how much I’ve accomplished even when I was at my lowest lows. All of the writers who referred me to photograph their stories, my industry peers who actively reject the status quo (sharing rates and resources! referring jobs! forming collectives!), the friends who reminded me my work is still important even if was rejected from yet another grant, fellowship, portfolio review.

Everyone who encouraged me to keep making the work anyway.

If I can choose the legacy of what it means to do this work, it’s that it can’t be done alone. We dream up the future we want to see and start the long game of getting there together.

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This reflection is largely inspired by the last few months I’ve spent working on my new website! Same www.celestenoche.com address, new look.

I’m so thankful to Kelly James for my gorgeous new logo and branding. I nearly cried when she told me the lettering was inspired by vintage books, and then she told me the floral mark was drawn from one of her great grandmother’s antique books that came all the way from Belfast and I lost it.

When I photographed Saria Dy-Davis’s wedding three years ago, she created the most swoon-worthy deck art directing her own celebration. It was inspired. Having her expert eye and calming guidance as editor while I was rebuilding the site really helped wrap my head around how far I’ve come while setting intentions for the future. Don’t underestimate your friends’ power in shining the best of yourself back to you.

Finally, a big thank you to Livelihood NW for their Professional Services Grant that reminded me not only do we not have to do it all, but often, it’s much better when we don’t and can hire our talented friends to create something wonderful together. I’m hopeful for a future where access to resources can be as straightforward as it’s been working with this team.

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Signing off this newsletter in gratitude to you and everyone reading this for being in community together. I’ll wrap with a few things I’ve loved lately:

• I co-hosted our second Filipinx storytime! If you have recs for pinoy books for littles, please send them my way

• The Subversive Act of Photographing Palestinian Life by Adam Rouhana

• A grown-up book: Ask Again, Yes by Mary Beth Keane

• A kiddo book: Max Attacks by Kathi Appelt (highly recommend switching out Max for your own cat’s name even if it doesn’t rhyme)

• Grand Gesture Books, Portland’s very own romance bookshop!

• My long favorite band Alvvays is playing with my new favorite band The Beths this summer. Envisioning a dream assignment to photograph them on tour

• Theo pronouncing octopus as “op-ah-tah-pus” and crocodile as “caw-caw-dile”

• And finally, my cats wearing their party hats to celebrate our new 2 year old

Until next time,
Celeste