The Biggest Doubts I Had Before Starting My Art Business

When people find Harpeth & Main today, they see the artwork, the products, the website, and the market displays.

What they don't see are the years of trial and error, the late nights, the ideas that didn't work, the products that never made it to the website, the mistakes, or the conversations I had with myself wondering if I was really capable of building this.

The funny thing is, those doubts didn't disappear once I started.

They've shown up at every new stage of the business. Every time I've expanded into something new. Every time I've raised prices, applied to a new market, launched a collection, or tried something I'd never done before.

I've just learned that doubts don't get the final say.

Over time, I've learned to replace those thoughts with truth, to trust that God will direct my steps, and to keep moving forward even when I don't have everything figured out.

"Am I talented enough?"

This was one of the first questions I wrestled with.

It's easy to look at artists who have been creating for years and assume they were simply born with more talent than you. But talent isn't static. It grows with practice. It grows with consistency. It grows by making things that don't turn out quite the way you hoped and then trying again tomorrow.

Looking back, I'm grateful I didn't wait until I felt "good enough" to begin.

"Will anyone actually buy my art?"

Creating something because you enjoy it is one thing.

Putting a price on it and inviting someone else to value it is something entirely different.

There's a vulnerability in that.

Would anyone connect with my work? Would they understand what I was trying to create? Would they spend their hard-earned money on something I made?

Over the years, I've learned that the goal was never to make something everyone would love. The goal was to create meaningful work for the people who connected with it. Those people are out there, and they have been from the very beginning.

"Do I actually know how to run a business?"

The honest answer?

Not really.

I knew some things, but I certainly didn't know everything. I had to learn pricing, wholesale, marketing, websites, SEO, product photography, inventory, bookkeeping, taxes, shipping, and about a hundred other things.

The interesting part is that you never really finish learning those things.

Marketing changes. Algorithms change. SEO changes. Customer behavior changes. Technology changes. Running a business means becoming someone who's willing to keep learning.

At the same time, I discovered that so much of my previous life prepared me for this in ways I never expected.

Years in ministry taught me how to communicate and lead. My teaching background helped me explain ideas clearly. Traveling gave me a deep appreciation for places and stories, which eventually became the heart of Harpeth & Main. Every chapter of my life contributed something to this business, even though I couldn't see it at the time.

Nothing was wasted.

"Is there really room for my work?"

There is so much beautiful art in the world. At times, that felt intimidating. Why create another landscape? Another postcard? Another sticker? Another watercolor?

Over time, I realized I wasn't trying to create something no one had ever thought of before. I was creating through my own experiences, my own perspective, and my own hands.

No one else has lived my life. No one else has traveled the same roads, noticed the same little details, or tells stories in quite the same way. There wasn't a need to become someone else's version of success. There was room for my voice. There was room for my vision. And there was room for the work God had given me to create.

What I've Learned Along the Way

If there's one thing building this business has taught me, it's that you don't have to have everything figured out before you begin. You just need to take the next step. Then the next one. And the one after that.

Confidence doesn't come from sitting on the sidelines trying to eliminate every doubt. It grows as you keep showing up.

Every market I applied to. Every new collection I launched. Every challenge I worked through. Every mistake I learned from. Every customer who chose to support my work. Each one strengthened my confidence and my resolve to keep building. Looking back, none of those steps felt especially significant on their own. But together, they built the business I have today.

If you're standing at the beginning of your own dream—whether it's starting a creative business, launching something new, or simply taking that first scary step—I hope you'll remember this: You don't have to know everything. You don't have to eliminate every doubt. You don't have to wait until you feel perfectly ready.

Take the next step. Then trust God with the one after that. Years from now, you'll look back and realize your business wasn't built in one giant leap. It was built through hundreds of faithful, ordinary steps that didn't seem all that remarkable at the time.