We recently had the chance to connect with Ray Fontaine and have shared our conversation below.
Hi Ray, thank you for taking the time to reflect back on your journey with us. I think our readers are in for a real treat. There is so much we can all learn from each other and so thank you again for opening up with us. Let’s get into it: What battle are you avoiding?
For most of my life, I’ve carried the belief that if I just worked hard enough, helped enough people, and achieved enough — no one would ever be upset with me. That I could be the hero who leaves no one behind, earns universal love, and somehow balances purpose, peace, and success. I’ve realized that not everything or everyone will align with me — and that’s okay.
The battle I avoid is the grief that comes with letting go — when someone doesn’t choose me, when I have to step away from a project or person, or when I simply can’t be everything to everyone. Leadership has taught me that making hard choices isn’t betrayal; it’s stewardship. To protect a mission, a team, or even myself, I have to choose where my energy goes.
Recently someone told me, “Leaders can’t be victims.” I’ve sat with that. What I’ve come to understand is that leadership requires courage to face pain without letting it define you. My battle is learning that rest, boundaries, and discernment aren’t weaknesses — they’re forms of wisdom. I’m learning to accept that slowing down doesn’t mean disappearing, and that saying “no” can be an act of love — for the work, for others, and for myself. The struggle to face this truth, and to change my behavior- is one I would rather avoid. I would rather fawn over toxic colleagues to win them over, than face them with the truth about how their behaviors make me feel. The choice to not face the music weakens the project and the team overall. My hope is to face my fears and grow the thick skin necessary to lead and innovate.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I’m Ray Fontaine — an artist, designer, and cofounder of Climate Culture NOLA, as well as the founder and principal designer of Bywater Branding Services, a creative agency that helps mission-driven organizations bring bold ideas to life through design, storytelling, and strategy. I was born in New Orleans, but I’ve lived all over the world, and that mix of local roots and global perspective shapes everything I do.
My work sits at the intersection of art, organizing, and strategic communications. What makes it unique is that I don’t just design brands — I help communities imagine the future they want to live in. Whether I’m producing a public event, facilitating a design-thinking workshop, or building a visual identity for a grassroots campaign, the goal is always the same: to connect culture and civic systems, and to remind people that creativity is a tool for transformation.
Right now, I’m focused on expanding Climate Culture NOLA — building partnerships between artists, scientists, and local businesses to strengthen our city’s resilience on the frontlines of climate change. It’s about creating spaces where beauty, belonging, and adaptation can coexist — because if we’re going to save this place, we have to love it enough to reimagine it together.
Okay, so here’s a deep one: What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
The part of me that needs to be released is the relentless fixer — the version of myself that believed every broken system, relationship, or project could be saved if I just worked harder, stayed longer, or loved deeper. That impulse has served me well; it’s what helped me build coalitions, lead teams, and turn ideas into movements. But it’s also what’s left me exhausted at times — confusing endurance for devotion.
I’m learning that not everything is mine to repair. Some things need to fall apart so something new can emerge. What I’m keeping is my faith in people and my creative drive, but what I’m releasing is the illusion that peace comes from holding everything together. Sometimes leadership — and healing — means letting go with grace, trusting that the work will continue even when I rest.
Do you remember a time someone truly listened to you?
Yes… and no. What’s strange about finding your voice — stepping onto a stage, picking up the mic, or speaking your truth — is that even when hundreds of people are watching and listening, you can still feel alone in the noise. Everyone hears through their own filters. Even the most attentive listener has a little background static — memories, thoughts, or emotions that shape how they receive your words.
But I have been truly listened to — especially by the women I’ve surrounded myself with in friendship, community, and work. They don’t just hear my words; they co-create with me. It’s a shared current of ideas, emotions, and effort. I’m grateful for the incredible men and nonbinary collaborators in my life, too — but there’s something unique about the way creative, entrepreneurial women listen to each other. It’s not passive. It’s a mirror. In their presence, I don’t just feel heard — I feel reflected. My fears, hopes, and talents feel like part of something larger, something communal. That kind of listening changes you.
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. What’s a cultural value you protect at all costs?
The power of gathering.
I believe that connected communities are strong communities — and that the simple act of breaking bread together can heal things policy never will. When we come together, we remember that we all have agency, that each of us carries a unique mix of experiences, talents, and resources that the world actually needs.
The challenge — and the beauty — is learning how to play in that diversity. To show up fully as ourselves while building something larger than any one person. For me, the cultural value I protect is the belief that we can only be good stewards of this world if we do it together — in rooms and backyards and community halls where it’s safe to make mistakes, to grieve, to learn, and to grow.
That’s where transformation happens. Around the table. In the trying.
Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. When have you had to bet the company?
Ha! Honestly, I think I’ve bet the company a dozen times — in ways both big and small. But the moment that stands out most was when I bought out my business partner. I wasn’t sure I could handle it on my own. I wasn’t sure I could dig myself out of the debt, or if losing that partnership would tank my reputation in a small city like New Orleans. I questioned everything — my leadership, my finances, my creative process. I worried that maybe I was the problem — too idealistic, too emotional, too committed to taking time for creative recharge.
But here’s what I did: I bet on myself. I dug even deeper into debt to invest in learning what I didn’t know — time management, bookkeeping, client systems, capital planning, boundaries. I hired a bookkeeper. I built systems that made my creative freedom sustainable. And yes, I lost clients along the way. Some people stopped answering my emails. But over time, I rebuilt stronger — with clients and collaborators who truly aligned with my mission.
That gamble gave me my company back — and, in a way, gave me myself back. I built Climate Culture, deepened my niche in climate and community storytelling, and now I’m almost out of that financial hole. But even if I weren’t, it was worth it. Because now I know: debt isn’t failure — it’s fuel when you use it with purpose.






Image Credits
K20 Local Planning Committee – Week of Action # WeAreTheStrom (Images 1 – 5)
Jewel of the South Fundraiser for Turning Tables Externship (6)
Ashley Starling Alumni Feature for Turning Tables (7-8)
so if you or someone you know deserves recognition please let us know here.
