Ashley Newman shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.
Ashley, we’re thrilled to have you with us today. Before we jump into your intro and the heart of the interview, let’s start with a bit of an ice breaker: What is a normal day like for you right now?
Most mornings start at 6:30 with the familiar clatter of breakfast dishes and the scent of coffee strong enough to wake the dead. While the kids get ready for school, I’m at the kitchen counter answering emails, sending out prep guides, and coordinating session times. It’s the calm before the creative storm — or at least, as calm as it gets in a house with three kids.
Once everyone’s out the door, I trade my laptop for leggings and head to the gym. It’s my daily reset — a rare hour that’s entirely mine. After that, it’s a shower, another round of caffeine, and back to the studio.
My workday really starts around 10 a.m. That’s when I dive into editing — the part of photography that people rarely see but takes up most of the hours. From 10 to 3, it’s me, my playlists, and hundreds of tiny decisions about light, color, and emotion. I’m also usually juggling messages from clients about wardrobe choices or location changes, and I try to carve out time to plan social posts for the week so my online presence doesn’t fall behind the actual work.
Late afternoons are for what most people imagine when they hear “photographer”: the sessions themselves. Families, maternity, newborns — golden light, laughter, and a little chaos. When I get home, I immediately upload and back everything up. No exceptions. It’s my ritual — the day doesn’t end until those files are safe.
Evenings belong to my family. Dinner, homework, bedtime routines, the usual beautiful mess of life. By the time I finally crawl into bed, I’m usually already thinking about tomorrow’s light, tomorrow’s edits, tomorrow’s stories waiting to be told.
It’s a full day, every day — but I wouldn’t trade it. Photography isn’t just what I do; it’s how I see the world.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Ashley, a family photographer based in The Woodlands, Texas, where I specialize in storytelling sessions that feel as real and alive as the families in them. My work is all about connection, the in-between moments, the little gestures that make up the big picture of a family’s story.
Photography found me years ago, but it didn’t truly click until I realized I wasn’t just taking pictures. I was documenting legacies. Every family that steps in front of my lens is in a fleeting season of their lives, and I get to freeze a bit of that time for them to hold onto. It’s not about perfection. It’s about honesty, emotion, and storytelling through light.
My studio, tucked in the heart of The Woodlands, is intentionally designed to feel calm, warm, and inviting. It’s a place where families can breathe and just be themselves. I photograph everything from newborns and maternity to full family sessions, often mixing indoor and outdoor spaces to create that dreamy, nostalgic balance between home and adventure.
What makes my brand unique isn’t a prop or preset. It’s the way I approach the entire experience. From styling clients through my size-inclusive client closet to helping them feel completely at ease during their session, I’m not just taking photos. I’m helping them see themselves in a new way.
Right now, I’m working on refining the storytelling side of my brand even more. I’m blending photography with video and audio to create a deeper, more cinematic way to remember these seasons. Because one day, when the kids are grown and the house is quiet, these images and stories told in their own voices will be what remains.
Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What did you believe about yourself as a child that you no longer believe?
As a kid, I believed a lot of things about myself that turned out not to be true. I thought being “too much” was a flaw. I thought you had to fit a certain mold to be seen — to be worthy of taking up space. I wasn’t “girly,” I didn’t have long nails, and I told myself I wasn’t the kind of person who wore dresses or took up the spotlight. I thought I was destined to be a famous artist one day, the kind whose work hung in galleries and museums.
When I went to college, I chased that dream hard, but it didn’t take long to see the cracks. The art world wasn’t built for people like me; it was built for the connected, the wealthy, or the long-gone. I pivoted into teaching, something I never expected, and poured myself into that role for years. But somewhere between lesson plans and motherhood, I started to lose track of who I was outside of everyone else’s needs.
And yet, art has this wild way of finding you again when you’ve forgotten where you left it. Photography became that rediscovery for me — a softer, more grounded version of the dream I had as a kid. I’m not a famous artist in a gallery, but I am an artist. I tell stories that matter. I capture love and growth and chaos in the everyday, and that work now fully supports my family.
I no longer believe I have to shrink myself to belong or that success has to look like what the world says it should. I’ve learned that art doesn’t need a pedestal to be powerful. It just needs to be seen, and so do we.
Was there ever a time you almost gave up?
All the time. There have been so many moments when I almost gave up — from the very beginning when I was just trying to get my footing, to every move my family has made, to every shift and growing pain my business has gone through. There were days I questioned everything. Times when I wondered if the dream was worth the exhaustion.
But the truth is, I never actually did give up. I doubted. I cried. I got frustrated. And then I picked myself up, figured out what needed to change, and kept going. Every season of struggle has taught me something — about my art, my resilience, and my why.
What I’ve learned is that growth and doubt are siblings. You can’t have one without the other. The trick is to let doubt ride shotgun without ever giving it the wheel.
Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. What’s a cultural value you protect at all costs?
For me, the cultural value I protect at all costs is the belief that photography is not a luxury item. It’s easy for people to see it that way, especially in a world that treats so much of life as disposable or “extra.” After all, we all have cameras in our back pocket. But these images we create — the ones filled with laughter, tears, and fleeting seasons — they’re our proof of having lived.
I believe photographs are a form of legacy. They’re how our children and grandchildren will remember what it felt like to be held, to be known, to be loved. They’re not decorations for a wall or content for a feed. They’re a heartbeat captured in time.
I’ll always protect that belief — that what I do isn’t about trends or aesthetics, but about preserving something real and deeply human. Because long after the toys are packed away and the house grows quiet, these memories are what remain.
Okay, so let’s keep going with one more question that means a lot to us: If you laid down your name, role, and possessions—what would remain?
If I laid down my name, my role, and everything I own, I hope what would remain are the memories I helped create for others. I hope the families I’ve photographed still have those moments to hold onto — the laughter, the soft touches, the reminders of how deeply they were loved in that season of their lives.
I went to a funeral recently, and it was sobering how few people were there to stand for that person. It wasn’t about who they were or what they did, but it was a powerful reminder of how fragile time really is, and how the things we leave behind become our story.
That’s what keeps me grounded in this work. Photography isn’t just about creating something beautiful; it’s about making something that outlives us. The photos we take now will one day be someone’s most treasured piece of evidence that love existed here. And to me, that’s everything worth leaving behind.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.ashleynewmanphotography.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ashleynewman.photography/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/anewman.photog
- Yelp: https://www.yelp.com/biz/ashley-newman-photography-magnolia
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCYZDvv79op49H9pWLk95PpA?view_as=subscriber
