What a First Project With a New Brand Category Actually Looks Like

Every category of brand I've worked with, outdoor apparel, automotive, hospitality, tech hardware, was at some point a category I hadn't worked with yet. Breaking into a new client category always feels riskier from the outside than the categories I already have a track record in, mostly because I can point to specific past work in familiar territory and I can't yet do that in the new one. That gap is real, but it's also more manageable than it feels in the moment.

Over more than 160 client relationships across a wide range of industries, I've broken into enough new categories to recognize the actual pattern, rather than treating each new attempt as a total unknown. If you want a fuller framework for expanding into categories you haven't worked with before, I cover it in The Adventure Travel Photographer's Playbook. Here, I want to walk through what a genuine first project in a new category actually looks like, from the pitch through delivery.

Why the First Project in a New Category Feels Different

A first project in an unfamiliar category carries a specific kind of pressure that a tenth project in a familiar one doesn't. There's no existing portfolio in that space to point to, no prior relationship with anyone in that industry to lean on, and often an incomplete understanding of what that category's brands actually care about most in a deliverable.

That pressure is real, but I've learned it's usually more visible to me than to the client. A brand hiring outside their usual photographer pool is often doing so precisely because they want a fresh creative perspective, not because they expect deep pre-existing category expertise. The gap I worry about internally is often smaller than it feels.

Recognizing that asymmetry has changed how I approach these pitches. Instead of downplaying my lack of category-specific history, I lead with what does transfer, the actual craft, the process, the track record in adjacent work, and let that stand on its own rather than apologizing for an unfamiliar category.

What Actually Transfers From Category to Category

The technical and creative core of the work transfers far more than category-specific experience suggests it should. Directing a subject, managing light and composition, understanding what a usable deliverable actually requires, none of that resets to zero just because the client's industry is new to me.

What doesn't automatically transfer is category-specific context: what that industry's marketing typically emphasizes, what its internal approval process usually looks like, what unwritten expectations exist around usage and licensing in that space. That context has to be actively built rather than assumed to carry over from prior categories.

I've learned to be explicit with myself about this split before a first project starts. Confidence in the transferable craft combined with genuine curiosity about the category-specific unknowns produces a much better first project than either overconfidence about the whole thing or excessive anxiety about all of it.

Researching a Category Before the First Conversation

Before ever pitching or entering a conversation with a brand in a new category, I spend real time studying how that category's marketing actually works: what kind of imagery its brands currently use, what visual conventions seem standard, and where there might be room for a genuinely different creative approach.

This research isn't about mimicking what's already being done. It's about understanding the baseline well enough to have an informed opinion about it, rather than walking into a conversation with no sense of the category's existing visual language at all. That baseline understanding shows up in how informed my questions sound during the actual pitch.

I've found that even a few hours of genuine research changes how a first conversation with a new-category client goes. Asking a specific, informed question about their industry lands very differently than asking something generic that suggests no real preparation went into the meeting.

The Pitch That Actually Works for an Unfamiliar Category

I don't try to pretend deep category expertise I don't have in a first pitch to a brand in unfamiliar territory. Overstating experience is easy to see through and damages trust the moment it's discovered. Instead, I frame the pitch around a genuine creative point of view for their specific project, paired with an honest track record in the actual craft.

Showing directly relevant past work matters here even when it's from a different category. A strong lifestyle image from an outdoor brand project demonstrates real skill in directing a subject and building a mood, skills a hospitality or automotive client can evaluate on their own merits regardless of the specific industry the work originally came from.

I've also learned to name the category gap honestly when it's relevant, framing it as a genuine opportunity rather than a weakness. A brand willing to work with someone new to their category is often looking for exactly the kind of fresh perspective that comes from not being anchored to that category's existing conventions.

What Changes About Pre-Production for an Unfamiliar Category

Pre-production for a first project in a new category takes noticeably more time than it does in familiar territory, and I've learned to budget for that honestly rather than pretending it's the same amount of work. More questions need asking, more assumptions need checking, and more of the brief needs explicit clarification before a shoot day can be properly planned.

I ask more direct questions in this phase than I would with a familiar category, specifically about what the client's internal team expects to see in a deliverable, what their approval process usually involves, and what past projects, even from other photographers, they consider successful examples to reference.

This extra pre-production investment doesn't always get separately billed, and I've had to be thoughtful about how much of that time is genuinely part of the project cost versus an investment in building category expertise I'll carry into future projects. Being honest with myself about that distinction has kept the economics of breaking into new categories sustainable.

Executing the First Shoot With Extra Margin Built In

On a first project in unfamiliar territory, I build in more margin than usual, extra time on set, a slightly more conservative shot list, more room for the unexpected. A first project in a new category is not the moment to be running the tightest possible schedule, since the unknowns are genuinely higher than they are in familiar work.

I also communicate more actively with the client during the shoot itself than I might on a familiar job, checking in on direction and framing more frequently to make sure the work is actually landing the way their category expects, since my own instincts about that expectation are less proven in unfamiliar territory.

This extra communication isn't a sign of weakness, and I've stopped treating it that way. A client generally reads active, thoughtful check-ins as diligence rather than uncertainty, especially when those check-ins are specific and show that I'm genuinely tracking whether the work is serving their actual goals.

Turning One Project Into Real Category Credibility

A single successful project in a new category doesn't automatically open the door to more work in that space, and I've learned to treat the first project as the start of a deliberate effort rather than a one-time proof point that speaks entirely for itself. Real category credibility takes more than one project to establish.

After a first project wraps well, I make a point of asking for a specific kind of testimonial or reference, one that speaks directly to how well I handled that particular category's needs, rather than a generic positive review. That specificity matters enormously when pitching the next brand in the same space.

I also update how I present my portfolio once a new category project is complete, making sure it's genuinely visible and framed in a way that speaks to that category specifically, rather than buried in a general portfolio where a prospective client in that same space might not notice it's relevant to them.

What I'd Tell Someone Hesitant to Pitch a New Category

The photographers I know who stay confined to a single familiar category for their entire career usually aren't doing so because they lack the transferable skill to work elsewhere. They're doing so because the discomfort of a first unfamiliar project feels bigger than it actually is once you're inside it doing the work.

I'd tell anyone hesitant about pitching into a new category that the craft genuinely does transfer, and the category-specific unknowns are learnable through research and direct questions rather than requiring years of prior immersion. The gap is real but it's smaller and more closeable than it feels from the outside.

Breaking into a genuinely new category has consistently been one of the more valuable investments I've made in this career, both for the direct work it's generated and for how much it's sharpened my general craft by forcing me to articulate things I'd started taking for granted in more familiar territory. If you want a deeper framework for expanding your client base into new categories, it's covered in full in The Adventure Photographer's Playbook.

Pricing the First Project in an Unfamiliar Category

Quoting a first project in a new category carries its own specific uncertainty, since I don't yet have a reliable sense of that category's typical budgets, its usual production expectations, or how its brands generally think about licensing scope. I've learned to research pricing norms in a new category as carefully as I research its visual conventions before ever sending a number.

There's a real temptation to underprice a first project in unfamiliar territory, treating a lower number as a way to reduce the risk of losing the opportunity to a category I have no track record in yet. I've resisted that instinct deliberately, since an artificially low first number in a new category is just as hard to walk back later as it is in any other context.

Instead, I still build the quote from real itemized costs, production time, gear, post-production, licensing, the same way I would for a familiar category, and I address the uncertainty honestly in conversation rather than through the number itself. Being transparent about being new to a category while still pricing confidently has landed better than quietly discounting to compensate for inexperience.

I've also learned to ask more direct pricing questions during discovery in a new category than I would in familiar territory, since assumptions about typical budgets that hold in one industry don't reliably transfer to another. A category with tighter typical margins calls for a different conversation than one used to premium production budgets, and guessing wrong in either direction creates friction.

What Happens After the First Project Doesn't Go Perfectly

Not every first project in a new category goes smoothly, and I've had at least one early new-category project where I misjudged what the client's internal team actually expected in a deliverable, despite genuine research beforehand. Handling that misstep well mattered more to the relationship than the misstep itself did.

I've learned to respond to a rocky first project in unfamiliar territory with direct accountability rather than defensiveness, acknowledging specifically where my inexperience in that category contributed to the gap, and proposing a concrete fix rather than a vague apology. Clients in a new category are often more forgiving of an honest miss than of an unwillingness to own it.

A rocky first project doesn't have to end the relationship, and in more than one case a category I struggled with initially became a genuine specialty once I'd absorbed the lessons from that early misstep. Treating a difficult first attempt as tuition rather than failure has kept me from abandoning promising new categories after a single imperfect start.

Building a Second and Third Project in the Same Category

Landing a first project in a new category is only the beginning, and I've learned that the second and third projects actually determine whether a category becomes a real, sustained part of the business or stays a single isolated experiment. Those follow-up projects require deliberate effort, not just waiting for another opportunity to appear organically.

After a first project completes, I actively pitch a second client in the same category while the work is still fresh, using the just-finished project as direct proof of capability rather than waiting an indefinite amount of time before attempting to build on the momentum. Category credibility fades if too much time passes between projects in that same space.

I also revisit and refine my category-specific research after each project, updating my understanding of that industry's expectations based on real, direct experience rather than the secondhand research that informed the first pitch. This refinement compounds quickly, and by a third project in a category, the research and pitching process feels almost as efficient as it does in long-familiar territory.

Some categories, despite a solid first project, simply don't generate enough follow-on interest to justify continued pursuit, and I've learned to recognize that outcome honestly rather than forcing a category to become a specialty it was never going to become. Redirecting that effort toward a more promising category has been a better use of time than persisting indefinitely in one that isn't gaining traction.

Looking back across every category I've eventually built real depth in, the pattern is remarkably consistent: a first project taken on with honest humility about the unknowns, a deliberate follow-up effort rather than a passive wait for the next opportunity, and an honest willingness to walk away from categories that weren't actually gaining traction despite a reasonable initial attempt. That pattern has served me far better than either forcing every category to work or avoiding new ones out of caution.

I'd also say the categories that ended up mattering most to my business weren't necessarily the ones that felt easiest to break into. Some of the slower, more effortful starts eventually produced the deepest, most reliable client relationships, precisely because the extra care taken during an uncertain first project built a level of trust that a smoother, more confident entry into a familiar category never quite requires in the same way. That's a genuinely counterintuitive lesson, and one I keep having to relearn every time a new category feels intimidating enough to avoid entirely.

Reflection Questions

1. What craft skills do you already have that would genuinely transfer to a client category you haven't worked with yet?
2. How much research would you actually need to do before a first pitch into an unfamiliar category?
3. Are you overstating or understating category-specific experience in your current pitches?
4. What would it take to turn one successful project in a new category into a real, repeatable stream of work there?

Dalton Johnson is a professional adventure and editorial photographer with over a decade of experience creating images on all seven continents. His client work includes Patagonia, GoPro, Arc'teryx, Four Seasons, Nike, Rivian, Big Agnes, Ford Bronco, and 160+ other brands. He runs Dalton Johnson Media as a full-service studio, from pre-production through post and distribution.