We’re looking forward to introducing you to Ross Jaynes. Check out our conversation below.
Ross, we’re thrilled to have you with us today. Before we jump into your intro and the heart of the interview, let’s start with a bit of an ice breaker: What do you think is misunderstood about your business?
What’s often misunderstood about my business is nearly everything I create starts from nothing just a thought, a feeling, or a spark of an idea. There’s no template or pre-existing structure. Each project begins in a fluid, undefined state and evolves into something fully realized. The process transforming a concept into a tangible piece of visual media is deeply personal and incredibly fulfilling, but it’s also mentally and emotionally demanding. Every piece I produce is unique, the first of its kind, and that act of bringing something entirely new into the world carries a power and responsibility people don’t always see from the outside.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Ross Jaynes, the Executive Creative Director and founder of Visual Media Co, a full-service visual production company based in Tennessee. At Visual Media Co, we create compelling images and videos that have reached audiences all over the world from major brands and national campaigns to local businesses and individuals sharing personal stories.
What makes our work special is that no two projects are ever the same. We approach every client with a fresh perspective, understanding that their story, mission, or product deserves a unique creative treatment. Whether we’re producing a high-end commercial, a documentary-style brand video, or a short-form social media campaign, we focus on creating authentic, impactful visual experiences that resonate with real people.
Our work lives at the intersection of storytelling, strategy, and visual artistry. It’s not just about making things look good it’s about helping people connect. The opportunity to take someone’s idea, vision, or legacy and translate it into something that can inspire, inform, or move others; That’s it what drives me.
Right now, we’re working on several exciting projects, including launching a self-produced documentary-style series highlighting things that are manufactured in Maury County, TN helping shine a light on the incredible work happening right in our own backyard.
Great, so let’s dive into your journey a bit more. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
This is definitely an introspective question, and a powerful one. Early in my career, I was driven by the desire to make a big impact. I wanted recognition, success, and to be known for my work on a large scale. That hunger fueled me, but it also came with pressure, perfectionism, and too much burnout.
Over the years, through both personal and professional challenges, I’ve come to realize that the version of me chasing external validation has served its purpose and can be released. What matters most to me now is the ability to create meaningful work, tell stories that matter, and use my talents to help people and businesses connect through powerful imagery. And, just as importantly, to be compensated fairly for the creativity, experience, and value I bring.
I’ve learned that having a wide skillset doesn’t mean I have to say yes to everything. Letting go of the need to constantly prove myself has made room for more intentional, fulfilling work. That shift has been one of the most freeing and mature changes in my creative journey.
What have been the defining wounds of your life—and how have you healed them?
The most defining wounds in my life have come from betrayal and disappointment by people I trusted both personally and professionally. While I’ve been fortunate to have a supportive family and wonderful parents, many of my other close relationships have been marked by broken trust, unmet expectations, and emotional disconnect.
What’s been most difficult is that many of these experiences weren’t things I caused or deserved. People sometimes say, “It’s not personal,” but that often comes from those who haven’t been on the receiving end of deeply personal hurt. And for someone who values connection and honesty, those moments left lasting scars.
I’m naturally introspective and philosophical, and one of the ways I’ve found healing is through the study of Stoicism. Understanding that I can’t control other people, only my response to them, has been incredibly grounding. It’s helped me detach from the chaos of others’ behavior and focus instead on my own values, reactions, and peace of mind.
That said, healing isn’t a solo journey. Talking with trusted friends has helped me gain perspective, and working with a therapist has been crucial in giving shape and structure to emotions that can otherwise feel overwhelming or meaningless. Healing hasn’t been about pretending the wounds don’t exist; it’s been about learning how to live with them, learn from them, and not let them define me.
So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. Is the public version of you the real you?
Yes and no.
Yes, in the sense that what you see is very much who I am: I’m affable, fun, and unapologetically honest, both in public and in private. I try to show up authentically in every space I enter. But like many people, there’s more beneath the surface.
What most don’t see is that I’ve lived with mild to moderate anxiety and depression for over 20 years. Despite appearing calm and collected in professional settings, I’ve had to work incredibly hard to manage those inner struggles. The emotional toll of creating, of putting a piece of yourself into your work and releasing it into the world, can be intense. Each new project comes with questions that never really go away: Will people connect with this? Will they understand the effort, the meaning, the intention behind it? Will it matter?
Because my work often carries pieces of my own thoughts and feelings, sharing it can feel incredibly vulnerable. There’s a kind of performance in that vulnerability, one that can be both fulfilling and exhausting. So while the public version of me is real, it’s only part of the full picture. The rest is quieter, more introspective, and often working just as hard behind the scenes to keep going.
Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
What I think people may most misunderstand about my legacy are the quiet periods, the gaps between bursts of intense creativity. From the outside, those moments might look like inactivity or retreat, but they’ve often been the result of something deeper: my own creative battery and mental health.
As someone whose work requires pulling ideas from thin air and shaping them into something real, the creative process is incredibly demanding. It takes energy, emotional bandwidth, and a kind of vulnerability that can be hard to sustain, especially during times of personal crisis or ongoing struggles.
When life gets heavy, that creative energy often has to turn inward just to keep the internal structure from collapsing. That doesn’t mean I stopped creating, far from it. The focus may have shifted, sometimes into quieter, more personal forms of expression like painting or experimenting with new mediums that allowed me to process what I was going through privately.
So while there may be gaps in the public record of my work, they were never empty. They were seasons of reflection, survival, and creative evolution. I hope that’s something people come to understand
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.rossjaynes.com/
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rossjaynes/
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/rossjaynes/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/RossJaynesCreative
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@RossJaynes
