When HATSUE teaches photography today, they encourage students to trust their instincts. It’s the advice they once had to learn for themselves after walking away from the career they thought would define their life.
Growing up in Hamilton, Ohio, as an only child, HATSUE’s parents were always supportive of whatever they wanted to do.
HATSUE, who uses both she and they pronouns, got her first camera from her grandmother when she was about 10 years old, and from then on photography was an integral part of her life.
Her father introduced her to another passion through his job at a summer camp: horses.
For many years, horses were the subjects of her photography.
“I had special access to see some like horse surgeries and you know kind of see that world,” she said. “I thought it was really cool and also perhaps a bit prestigious, and I wanted to be an equine athlete surgeon for a while.”
HATSUE had a clear vision for her future: becoming a vet tech. With this came many hours of study and the self-imposed pressure to succeed academically in high school.
“I'm pursuing this photography thing on the side, and that's kind of always been my thing, but I never really thought it was a path to a career,” she said. “I always thought it was just a hobby, and the horses, the veterinarian pathway, was actually the thing to do. And I never felt like I could stray away from that path because I was so dedicated to it.”
But there were other influences. An English teacher recognized HATSUE’s creative instincts and suggested pursuing that in college. It was the first time that felt like a real possibility.
“Something clicked in my brain for some reason, like the last months of my senior year of high school,” they said. “I kind of woke up one day and I was like, ‘Let's change things.’ “
Trusting their instincts
Re-defining her identity started with using a different name.
“HATSUE is my middle name,” they said. “My first legal name is not Japanese, but I've always kind of identified a little bit more on my Japanese side … I just woke up one day and decided to start going by HATSUE.”
The other major decision was letting go of her plans to become a veterinarian, and instead pursue photography and other creative passions.
“I think maybe I was having anxiety about, ‘I don't actually know if I want to be a veterinarian anymore,’ and changing my mind was the solution,” HATSUE said.
HATSUE was accepted into the University of Cincinnati’s College of Design, Architecture, Art and Planning (DAAP). At first, her parents were skeptical. She chose to study graphic design instead of fine arts, at her mom’s encouragement.
She questioned that choice at times. A design professor recognized her struggles in a class that focused more on signage than the kind of creative work she loved.
“I remember just being so distraught. I didn't want to think about whether or not the typography was legible from 10 feet away. I did not care,” she said. “I remember him coming up to me, and he's like, ‘I know you're not a graphic designer, but just do it … I know who you are. Just get it done.’ ”
That advice inspired HATSUE to push through difficult work to reach her goal of pursuing photography.
“I feel like maybe I trusted my instinct when I was 18 — to change my name, change the career trajectory — and that has stuck with me ever since,” HATSUE said. “I think all of these pieces of advice that we pick up during our lives, are just pieces of validation … Now I have a lot of confidence in myself and my abilities.”
Today, HATSUE is grateful she studied communication design instead of fine arts. It prepared them for work as a freelance photographer, adjunct professor and gallery curator in Cincinnati, Ohio.
They now pass those lessons on to their students, encouraging them to trust their own creative instincts.
“I am constantly thinking about what kind of professor I want to be, how I want to pave the way, how I want to inspire students,” she said. “To help develop photographers who also, you know, see their work and their life intertwined with each other.”
When HATSUE is confronted with anxiety and pressure, they now have the confidence to trust themselves and recognize when it's time to switch paths.
“High school me wouldn't have ever thought that current me was a possibility, and allowing myself to give up this version of myself that I thought I wanted to be, I think, was the biggest moment of finally letting that go,” she said.
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