Opening this studio this month has been a whirlwind.

And not the cute, romantic kind. The kind where everything spins so fast you don’t realize how hard it actually was until you finally stop moving. Because it was hard.

For those of you who don’t know, I left my full time job as a senior designer at an engineering consulting firm in September. And here’s the thing I don’t say out loud often… It was the best company I’ve ever worked for. Great people. Great leadership. No drama. Stability. Security. I had zero complaints. Which somehow made leaving even harder.

What most people also don’t know is that I never went to college for engineering. Not even close. I bounced between classes for nutrition, pre nursing, business… never finished a degree. But I did learn two things early on in high school.

Engineering Drafting

And photography.

And honestly… photography always had my heart.

I’ve had a camera in my hand for as long as I can remember. I have these vivid memories of dragging a friend around with my film camera, planning outfits, doing makeup, ending up at a lake trying to create something that felt… cool, important, different. I remember chasing that feeling more than anything.

At the same time, I was building bridges in shop class, exploring interior design, creating in every direction I could. I knew early on that I needed to make things. A huge part of that came from my uncle Doyle.

Doyle Ray Eskew, even now, 20 years after he passed, still has this quiet hold on everything I create. When he passed, I was given his cameras. And now, in my new studio, his self portrait hangs on the wall.

Still influencing me.

Still showing up.

About 10 years ago, I opened my first studio. It wasn’t this. It was small. Functional. A place to meet clients for weddings. It didn’t inspire me. It didn’t push me creatively. And at the time, I was deep in postpartum depression. I was struggling in ways I didn’t fully understand yet. I had just had my son. He was and still is such a light in my life, just like my older son. But I wasn’t okay.

The studio didn’t last. Photography slowly became something I did on the side.

Then life happened.

Divorce.

Single parenting.

Survival mode.

I took whatever work I could to stay afloat. Drafting at a concrete company. A solar company. Bartending on top of it all. Eventually landing in wastewater design.

And listen… it gave me stability.

It paid well.

I was proud of what I did.

But I was unfulfilled.

There was this part of me that just… stayed quiet. Waiting. I would tell clients all the time, “One day I’ll go back to photography full time.” And I meant it. I just didn’t know when. Or how. Or if I’d actually be brave enough to do it. —

Then I went to Oregon.

And something shifted.

I don’t know how else to explain it other than… I felt calm. For the first time in a long time, my brain wasn’t loud. And I realized something really simple. Photography was the light. And engineering… wasn’t. It wasn’t that my life was bad. It was that one part of my life was completely misaligned. And it was enough to make everything feel heavier than it should have. So I came home and made the decision. I quit engineering.

Hello photography.

A few months later, I found the studio. In a building I had admired for years.

Guenther Mill In Dover, NJ

I had actually reached out about a space there years ago. Nothing came of it. Then right before I left my job, I looked at a huge space there. Also, that wasn’t right.

But I left my job anyway. I told myself I’d wait.

Then I got the call. Another space opened. I went to look. It was close… but not quite it. So I went back again. And that’s when they told me another unit had just opened that day.

I walked up the long staircase.

The door opened.

And I just knew.

Skylight.

Round windows. Dark, moody… but filled with pockets of light.

A friend said to me, “This space is very Rachel.” And they were right.

It’s exactly what my work feels like.

Light in the dark. And now here we are. I can feel what this space is going to become. I can see it already. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m forcing anything. I’m just… building. Creating. Growing.

My goals are big. Bigger than I’ve ever said out loud. And I want you here for it.

Come along for the ride.

Stay awhile. I’m a little weird. My humor is questionable. My friends are weird. My kids are absolute chaos. I somehow ended up with the most perfect partner. And I have two dogs… one of them named after food.

This is my life.

This is my work.

This is me.

I’m Rachel Indano.

And this is Rachel Indano Photography.