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An Inspired Chat with Jau’don Markell of Fort Worth

Jau’don Markell shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Hi Jau’don, thank you so much for joining us today. We’re thrilled to learn more about your journey, values and what you are currently working on. Let’s start with an ice breaker: Have any recent moments made you laugh or feel proud?
There was a time recently when I had to stand my ground with the police. No altercation by any means, but by being true to myself and honest about my intentions, I made a way. I spent months planning something for myself, and there was no way I was going to let all of that go when I could see the finish line.

It was August 7th, 2025, and I was with my cousin, Mickae, on our way to a location for a photoshoot at a vacant gas station on the side of the highway. I arrived 20 minutes before my model, so I took 3-5 minutes with my camera, walking around the lot to count the shots I planned to direct. After returning to my vehicle, my model, Charlie, arrived about 15 minutes later. We met, I retrieved the rest of my gear, and we got started. We walked to the entrance on the side of the road, and I got my first few shots in. After that setup, I rotated to get a different perspective, so now my back is facing the road. Suddenly, as I’m popping my flash, I hear, “Uhh, Jau’don?”. I turn around to see three squad cars now parked in the grass behind me.

Three Wise County officers step out, and one proceeds to tell me why they’re here first. They received a call that a couple of “squatters” were roaming around the gas station, so they asked me what I was doing there since it’s private property. There was no way to tell it was private since everything around the building was overgrown. If there’s a sign, it’s certainly covered up at this point. As I was standing there with my camera, my bag wrapped around me, and my light ready to flash again. I stated the obvious and handed my business card. I explained that I was doing a shoot I had been planning for a couple of months, so Officer Derrick suggested an alternative location for me, the Texaco Petrified Wood Station. I said, “Hmm, okay, let me see”, and proceeded to look it up on my map. Immediately, I said I’ve shot there before and pulled up my folder with the photos. I showed them one, and all I heard was, “Wow! That’s nice.” Another officer, Wilson, is standing there in the middle of them, holding a smile and nodding his head in agreement.

Officer Derrick then asked how long I planned on staying there, so I told them I was trying to be there until 8 pm, when the sun starts setting. I asked if I could get 30 minutes, which is no time at all, but I was trying to be quick about the situation now. The third officer, Howell, proceeds to make some calls to J&J Trucking, which supposedly owns the station, J&J Country Store. The number is disconnected, so he made a couple of more calls. During that time, as I’m standing there waiting and still chatting with Derrick, I decided to ask if they would like a photo where they’re standing. Officer Derrick looks over at Wilson, who is still smiling, and nods his head surely. Officer Howell walks back and says he can’t get a hold of anyone, so I filled him in on my offer, and they all agreed.

After revealing the outcome, they said in unison, “Whoa!”. Then Howell points to Derrick and says, “He made you look good!?”. Officer Derrick then asked me, “So you were trying to be here until 8?”. I said, “Yeah”, and we went back to discussing the source of the call. I reiterated that it had to be someone driving by who saw, “A black man!”, my cousin exclaims, walking around an empty gas station, and decided to start an investigation. They agreed and told me I could stay until I was done, as long as the owners didn’t give them a call. At that point, how could they call, right? I’m not much of a fan of cops, but for those who protect and serve their community with honor and diligence, I can respect. Because of them, I was free to do what I felt needed to be done, all because I opened my soul and shared my gifts.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I am Jau’don Markell, a creative and freelance photographer who works at the intersection of photography, storytelling, and sound. For me, the camera is only the first step. I’m always thinking about how an image or object can carry more weight, how it can move beyond the surface and show people something they might not expect.

What makes my work unique is the way I weave personal narrative and a sprinkle of experimentation into everything I do. Whether it’s a surreal photo series like Upon a Dream, a lifestyle collection like Remote Work, or travel photos from my recent time in Costa Rica, I’m always reflecting on a memory, an identity, and the process. I’m starting to let people see things both polished, raw, and sometimes the behind-the-scenes. It creates a deeper connection, because they get to understand not just the art, but the story that built it.

Right now, I’m focused on growing my brand again, my name, and re-engaging my audience in new ways. That means sharing more personal photography again, experimenting with stories, and building bridges between my mediums. At the end of the day, I want my work to feel honest, layered, and alive. Whether you’re scrolling past it online or, eventually, standing in front of it.

Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
Before the world tried to tell me who I had to be, I was just a kid fascinated with creating things out of nothing. I remember always looking around but only staying within my curiosity. Whether it was light bouncing off a wall, how a room made me feel, or the random sounds I would hear in sync with the rest of my surroundings. That sense of wonder was my first language, long before I had the words or the titles that came later into adulthood.

I never really thought about fitting into a role or a box growing into my adolescence because I was too occupied with figuring out what I am first. I was more concerned with exploring the neighborhood with the other kids on our bikes, playing my games in my room with the other homies from school, and wondering what would be next for me while analyzing music before I fell asleep. I had no idea what I truly wanted to be. I was simply moving along through the timeline until high school. I was at South Hills, going through the Gold Seal of Choice Program for Video Game and Graphic Design in Fort Worth. By senior year, when I chose photography for my elective, which then turned into AP photography in a month. That natural push into expression and learning how to express it made me feel free, and in a way, still guides me.

So, when the world eventually started pressing its labels and expectations, I grew further into who I am during my years in college after I got my own camera. I was a creator, an observer, and a storyteller in progress. Honestly, I think I’ve just been finding ways to get back to that original self ever since separating myself after the Spring of 2020.

When did you stop hiding your pain and start using it as power?
I stopped hiding my pain the moment I realized it was shaping my art, whether I admitted it or not. From losing my best friend to leukemia in November of 2019, to kicking off quarantine just a few months later, after I had just gotten my name out there. It all sort of gave me an excuse to seclude. Since then, I thought I had to separate struggle from creation, like one had no place with the other. Over the years, I saw that the very things I was trying to cover up, like grief, pressure, and doubt, were also the things giving my work its depth.

The turning point was when I started treating my projects as more than just a visual, but a feeling. Upon a Dream, for example, wasn’t just an alluring collection of photos; it was me yearning for something I felt like I once had. A longing for creation and reconnecting with the source that fuels my passions. Showing power in connection was a way for me to push the boundaries I built for myself over the past few years, and put myself back out there. Trying techniques I’ve never done before and pulling off shots I couldn’t even imagine in my planning revived me in a sense. It was a chaotic process for me, but I loved every minute of it. That shift taught me that vulnerability isn’t weakness, it’s fuel. So, shoutout to Natalie for sticking with me through that process, even though I was only giving her small pieces of the whole picture. It was really shadow work for me, so I needed to let the expression in itself do its magic.

Now, I can use pain as a starting point sometimes instead of a stopping point. It’s what allows me to connect and to tell stories that are honest enough to move people. I don’t see it as baggage anymore, but as proof that I can take what tries to break me and turn it into something that builds me.

Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. Is the public version of you the real you?
The public version of me is real, but it’s not always all of me at the same time. What I share through my art and my brand is rooted in my truth and my faith. I don’t create anything I don’t believe in. Like anyone, there are parts of me that don’t always make it to the surface, the quiet moments and personal battles that shape the work and the individual behind the scenes. What people see publicly is the polished layer, the final product of planning, reflection, and craft. It’s still me, but it’s me with intention, and me choosing what story to tell. The private version is where the experiments, doubts, and breakthroughs happen, the version that doesn’t have to perform for anyone.

So yes, the public me is real, but the realest me exists in both spaces. I believe my best work happens when those two figures actually have the space to morph into one, like being on set.

Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. What light inside you have you been dimming?
The light I’ve dimmed the most is my willingness to show myself fully, without filtering it for how the world might receive it. There’s always been a part of me that wants to share boldly, whether it’s a personal photo, a surreal idea, or a thought that doesn’t fall into the current trends. Somewhere along the way, I had started holding that back, worried about perception, whether it would be too much or simply not enough. That dimming shows up in subtle ways: creating less of the work that feels closest to me, second-guessing when to share personal reflections, or downplaying the layers of my creativity. It’s like keeping the volume turned down on my own frequency, even though I know it’s what makes me, me.

I’m learning to let that light out again, little by little. The truth is, it’s not just about expression with my tools, it’s about connection. The lens is my third eye. Every time I allow myself to show more, I notice somebody or something out there is responding to it, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s real. I think that’s the light I owe to both myself and others, and why I can even get opportunities like this to share.

Contact Info:

Image Credits
Officers Howell, Wilson, and Derrick

Charlie Angton

Jon “RYSK” Henry

Kerene Kazadi

Natalie Lopez

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