Today we’d like to introduce you to Heather Cleaves
Hi Heather, so excited to have you with us today. What can you tell us about your story?
You don’t get to choose the calling— I truly believe the calling chooses you. After years of running a successful salon business, loving every moment of it, and feeling like I made a difference in the lives of every client I had the honor of working with, the pandemic shut the doors to my sanctuary and, subsequently, my love and passion for the craft itself.
Being a self-defined artist, I knew something would eventually spark my heart to come alive again and create. What I didn’t anticipate— not in a million years— was that it would happen in high school gyms all over the United States, with a community I had never been a part of before. Far from it, actually.
At twelve, I was diagnosed with a rare congenital heart defect that nearly took my life. It was through an athletic activity and a myriad of otherwise simple symptoms that the diagnosis came to light. After surgery, I was fearful of participating in sports. Being a musician and an artist, the athletic community and I never quite meshed.
Fast forward to 2020: my son had been playing competitive club basketball for a few years. Once travel restrictions eased, we were able to attend out-of-state AAU tournaments. I began bringing an old, dusty camera to games, mainly to keep my hands busy and my thoughts to myself. I’d always loved capturing photos, starting from a young age— snapping black-and-white images of strangers at street fairs with disposable cameras, to using digital point-and-shoots for weekend memories with friends. I loved sharing my experience and perspective through a lens.
What started as a small distraction grew into something meaningful. My son and his friend began insisting I bring my camera to games. The photos I took did something for their confidence. At the time, I couldn’t explain it, but somehow, the images allowed them to see themselves as I saw them— strong, capable, and full of potential. That changed the way they played.
At that point, there were no photographers or videographers capturing the kids’ games like there are now. It was just hoopers, parents, coaches, and refs. If a photographer was present, their lens was locked on the kids who were ranked or trending on social media— the ones “going to the league” someday. I remember thinking, “What about all of these other kids with dreams? They matter just as much and deserve the spotlight.” That’s when the calling called… and I answered.
On the drive back from a Vegas tournament, I purchased The Heather Experience domain name, revived the Instagram account, and— in a moment of blind optimism— bought 1,000 bot followers to appear legitimate. At a stoplight, I created a watermark in Canva and posted five of my best (albeit blurry) photos along with my thoughts about how much I believed in these kids.
From that moment, the players in San Diego, their families, and this incredible community became the heartbeat of my journey. Their belief in me, and in my ability to make a small but meaningful impact, gave me the courage to keep building this.
When humans feel seen, encouraged, and valued, they exist and perform at an exponentially higher level. It became my mission to do everything I could to ensure these young athletes knew they mattered— that their worth wasn’t tied to their performance. When you matter, even if it’s just to one person, living life and thriving becomes less of a challenge. In fact, it can even become something you look forward to.
And that, truly, is the heartbeat of every photo I take.
Would you say it’s been a smooth road, and if not what are some of the biggest challenges you’ve faced along the way?
Going from owning a successful business and being able to comfortably support yourself and your family, to sitting on the hardwood floor of a hot high school gym, taking photos with a camera you bought using the last bit of money from an unemployment check, has not been easy. Especially when that sport is one you’ve never played or photographed before, and some of the people you love the most doubt your every move—and maybe even the sanity you have left.
But here’s one of the many secrets I’ve learned about life: when you learn to listen to your intuition—whether you call it your inner voice, the voice of God, the universe, or your higher power—the more familiar you become with what it sounds like. And the more you recognize it, the less you question the direction you’re meant to go when it’s time to move.
Everyone will have an opinion about what you should or shouldn’t do. And while it is so important to have at least one trusted advisory, being well-versed in your own intuition allows you to listen less to the noise outside and more to the next right move for you.
Like anyone, I struggle with self-doubt, comparison, and the fear of not being good enough. The road to success isn’t about arriving at one big moment. It’s a culmination of countless small moments along the way that create a truly successful and meaningful life.
I often wrestle with feeling like I’m not doing enough, wishing I could make a bigger impact, reach more people, or do more good if I just had more resources. But the problem with always wanting more is that it steals your ability to be present in the now and robs you of gratitude for what you already have.
If I’ve learned anything from student athletes, it’s resilience and tenacity. Being a person of influence requires strength, long hours, self-care, reflection, truth, honor, and discipline. The road will never be smooth, but it will always be paved with exactly what you need to get you where you’re meant to go.
Alright, so let’s switch gears a bit and talk business. What should we know about your work?
I specialize in capturing moments that go beyond the court, focusing on the heart and soul of young athletes. Through photography and videography, my work is about more than just sports—it’s about making kids feel seen, valued, and encouraged. I work primarily with youth basketball players, documenting their journeys in a way that helps them see the greatness in themselves, both on and off the court. My mission is rooted in empowerment, mental health advocacy, and building a community where these athletes and their families feel supported and celebrated.
What sets me apart is my ability to connect deeply with the people I work with. I’m not just taking pictures or creating highlight reels—I’m telling stories. I want the kids to look at my work and feel like they matter, like someone sees them for who they are beyond the scoreboard or rankings. It’s that belief in their worth that drives everything I do.
What I’m most proud of is how this work has grown into a movement of sorts. It’s not just about my talent or creativity; it’s about the trust these families and athletes have placed in me. When an athlete reaches out to thank me for sharing a resource like the suicide or crisis text hotline—saying it saved their life because therapy isn’t accessible for them—I’m reminded that this is the true purpose of my work. A long time ago, someone planted a seed of hope in me that saved my life. Now, every photo I take, every story I tell, is my way of planting that same seed in someone else. I may only be in these kids’ lives for a season, but my hope is that the confidence, encouragement, and love I pour into them create a legacy that lasts far beyond me.
I think what really sets me apart is the heart behind my lens. I’m not just creating content for the sake of content; I’m building something that lasts. When people feel seen and valued, they thrive—not just on the court, but in life. That’s what makes this work so meaningful to me.
Risk taking is a topic that people have widely differing views on – we’d love to hear your thoughts.
Risk-taking, to me, is about stepping into the unknown with faith that something greater lies ahead, even if the path isn’t clear. It’s not reckless—it’s intentional, guided by intuition and a deep belief in the potential for growth. I’ve learned that the greatest risks often come with the greatest rewards, not always in material terms, but in the ways they shape who you are and what you stand for.
As I mentioned previously, one of the biggest risks I’ve taken was walking away from the comfort of a successful salon business to start over in a field I had no experience in. Sitting in high school gyms with a camera I bought using the last bit of money from an unemployment check, I questioned myself constantly! Could I really make this work? Was I being naive to think I could succeed in a space I’d never been part of before? Others doubted me too, which made the risk feel even greater. But in those moments, I leaned into the belief that sometimes the hardest paths lead to the most fulfilling destinations.
Risk-taking also requires so much vulnerability. Whether it’s sharing my story, pouring my heart into my work, or creating resources for young athletes, I’m constantly putting myself out there, not knowing how it will be received. But every time an athlete tells me my work inspired them or made them feel seen in a way they hadn’t before, I know the risk was worth it.
I don’t think risk is about being fearless—it’s about being brave enough to move forward despite the fear. It’s about understanding that staying where you are can be just as risky as taking the leap. The way I see it, risk is a necessary part of building something meaningful, and it’s through those leaps of faith that I’ve discovered my greatest purpose.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://TheHeatherExperience.com
- Instagram: TheHeatherExperience
- Twitter: TheHeatherEx
- Other: https://humanhooperhero.org
Image Credits
Heather Cleaves
