by Nerissa James, DFW Portrait Photographer

I didn’t plan for photography to become my life’s work.

I just knew I loved to document what felt meaningful. The people I loved. The creative projects that lit me up. The ordinary moments that I paused to see fully.

Seven years later, I’m reintroducing myself to the DFW community as a portrait photographer, visual artist, and storyteller with soul.

Seven years ago, something in me shifted.

I picked up a camera with more intention and never really put it down.

This post is both a reflection and a reintroduction. It’s a look at how far I’ve come, what I’ve learned, and how this work has changed me.

In many ways, it’s me doing for myself what I’ve spent years doing for others. Preserving a chapter of my life that shaped me.

This isn’t a rebrand. It’s a homecoming.
A return to purpose.
A quiet celebration of growth, clarity, and legacy.

I didn’t always know this path would stretch into years.
But I followed what felt good, what felt right. One photo at a time.
So much of what I’ve built started simply, with curiosity and heart.

And that’s where this story begins.

The Beginning of Becoming

My journey into photography didn’t begin with business cards or a perfect website.
It began with joy. With instinct. With a deep love for capturing the feeling of a moment.

I wasn’t thinking about light theory or composition rules.
I just wanted to remember things.

I had just moved to Texas and was working at a school. I talked often about how much I loved photography with my co-worker. She encouraged me to sign up for Thumbtack, and when I did, things started happening fast. I started getting inquiries right away and booked my first few sessions that weekend.

I was still shooting on automatic, using what I had, learning what I could.
And from the very beginning, I was drawn to editing. I started with phone apps, then pushed myself to learn Photoshop, and eventually, Lightroom. Even when I didn’t fully know what I was doing, I wanted my photos to feel like something I could be proud of.

That was when I realized this didn’t just have to be a hobby.
It felt real. Like something I could actually build.
A path that allowed me to do work I loved, with joy, freedom, and intention.

Looking back, that was the moment I unknowingly stepped into my role.
Not just as a photographer, but as someone who tells stories with care and feeling.

When It Became Real

After I made the decision to go full-time, everything started to move fast.

This was the season where things shifted from possibility to practice. I wasn’t just talking about being a photographer. I was showing up as one, every day.

Clients were coming in consistently. I was shooting back-to-back sessions and pouring myself into the work. It felt exciting, overwhelming, and alive all at once. I was learning as I went, refining things constantly, and pushing myself to grow.

I photographed my first wedding during this time which inspired me to upgrade to a new camera system, and finally made the shift from automatic to manual. That was when I started to really learn the science: the settings, the numbers, the light. And it all started to click.

This was when photography stopped being something I hoped for
and started becoming something I was actively building.

I was all in.

The Weight of the Work

Everything, All at Once

By this point, the work was flowing. I was booking sessions regularly. Weddings, portraits, events, my calendar stayed full. Learning how to shoot in manual had changed everything. It gave me control, and that control helped me trust myself more with each session. My confidence was growing in my ability to see and respond to light in real time. The gear, the editing, and the structure of it all was coming together.

But so much was happening at once.

I was still learning, still evolving, still excited. But the pace was catching up with me. There were galleries always waiting to be edited. Inbox messages to respond to. New inquiries to sort through. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I started to feel the tension between the love I had for this work and the burnout creeping in behind the scenes.

And then, life added another layer.

My father’s health began to decline. I was managing the weight of that quietly, traveling when I could to be with him, and still trying to show up for the sessions I had committed to. I didn’t know it yet, but something inside me was shifting and pulling me toward a slower, deeper way of seeing.

Everything was happening all at once.
The growth. The pressure. The grief.
And I was holding it all.

When I Sat Down

Eventually, I had to slow down.

I temporarily moved back to New York to be with my father during his final months. I knew I wanted to be there, fully present, as much as I could be, and that meant stepping back from the business in a way I hadn’t before.

I still took on a few sessions while I was in New York. I flew back to Texas here and there to fulfill previous commitments. But for the most part, things quieted. The pace changed.

And when my father passed, the stillness deepened.

I stayed in New York longer to be with my mother. We needed that time. I needed that time. To grieve, to breathe, to sit with the weight of everything I’d been carrying, both in my business and in my heart.

This wasn’t just a break. It was a reset.
I wasn’t creating in the same way, but something was still shifting beneath the surface.

That season gave me a new lens, one that helped me see photography not just as something I loved, but as something sacred.

A way to remember.
A way to honor.
A way to preserve what we can’t keep forever.

By the time I returned to Texas, I wasn’t the same.
I came back with a quieter spirit, a deeper sense of purpose, and a more reverent understanding of what this work really means.

The Quiet Rebuild

Coming back to Texas wasn’t about picking up where I left off.
Too much had changed. I had changed.

I didn’t return with a list of goals or a launch plan. I came back with softness and a need to move slowly and protect the parts of myself that had been stretched thin.

I was still grieving. Still reflecting.
But beneath that, I knew I wanted to rebuild, differently this time.

I started reworking things behind the scenes.
Looking at my business with fresh eyes.
Asking honest questions:
What do I really want this to feel like?
How do I protect my peace and still show up for others with presence and intention?
Where does the joy live? And how do I build around that?

This wasn’t about rebranding. It wasn’t about aesthetics.
It was about alignment.

I let go of offerings that no longer felt like me.
I started refining my systems. I created more space.
And slowly, quietly, I began to shape something that felt true again.

There weren’t many posts or announcements during this time.
But I was doing the real work.
The kind that happens when no one is watching.

Seven Years In as a DFW Portrait Photographer

Seven years in, and I finally feel like I’ve found my rhythm.

One that moves with me, not against me.
My style is solid. My edits feel like me.
The way I photograph, the way I see, feels like a language I’ve finally become fluent in.

There’s clarity here.
In my process. In my voice. In the kind of experience I want to offer and the kind of life I want to protect behind the scenes.

I can feel the difference now in how I move, how I create, and how I show up.
My work finally reflects the legacy I want to leave.

The Full Circle Frame

And then came this shoot.

A quiet, powerful portrait session in a red vintage suit, with my full self showing up in the frame, unapologetically.

But what made it even more meaningful was who stood behind the camera.

My daughter is nearly twelve years old, curious, creative, and observant. She helped bring this shoot to life. We sat at the table with our notebooks, talked through the vision and style together, just as I would for a client. We gathered wardrobe and accessories, and set up the space in my studio. She watched me do my make-up. I chose the camera settings and explained them to her, teaching her little by little. When it was time to begin, she stood behind the camera and clicked the shutter on nearly every frame, as we played around and talked through posing.

She’s been my muse for years. I’ve documented her since the very beginning of my journey, always watching her grow through my lens. But this was a full circle moment. She took everything she’s seen me do over time and mirrored it with care. Her eye is thoughtful and beautiful, and she captured me full of feeling. She saw me.

What I Carry Forward

There was something quietly powerful about it.

It reminded me that this work isn’t just about the clients I serve.
It’s also about what I’m modeling, what I’m preserving, and what I’m passing down.
And in moments like this, I’m reminded how connected it all really is.

Seven years in, I know this isn’t just about photography.
It’s about honoring life while it’s still unfolding.

This isn’t a rebrand. It’s a return.
A reintroduction grounded in growth, shaped by grief, and rooted in purpose.

A photographer, yes.
But also, a historian.
A daughter.
A mother.
A keeper of time.

As a DFW portrait photographer, I carry all of that into every frame.

If you’re new here, welcome.
If you’ve followed my journey, thank you.
Whether you’re planning a wedding, preserving your family’s legacy, or simply honoring the moment you’re in, I would be honored to document it.

You’re invited to explore my work, connect with me, or simply stay awhile.

There’s room here for you.

With love,
Nerissa James
JPF Galleries
Preserve. Journey. Forever.