Laura McClure has lived in more zip codes than most people can find on a map. Her first taste of Arizona came as a teenager at Judson boarding school in Paradise Valley in the 1980s—a place she didn't know would eventually call her home. From there the map kept unfolding: Texas, Surrey, back to Texas, Hong Kong, New Mexico. Each move taught her something about starting over, about resilience, about the kind of person you become when you're always the newcomer.
She spent twenty-five years building things for other people—brands, experiences, events, teams. She managed executive calendars at Station Casinos Corporate and Primus Pharmaceuticals. She orchestrated luxury experiences for Equus Consulting, Casper executive services at Signature Airport in Las Vegas directed campaigns at Citadel Broadcasting, coordinated logistics for companies most people have never heard of. She became very good at solving problems, at making things run smoothly, at being the person everyone could rely on. But somewhere in all that building for others, she lost track of building for herself.
Underneath it all, there was always a camera. There were always horses. There were always dogs.
She returned to Arizona in 2004 with a horse and that restless spirit—the one that had her sneaking off to see gypsy horses in England as a girl, riding ex-racehorses during a stint in Hong Kong. She left the both glamourous and corporate life in Las Vegas to live in her horse trailer and work early mornings on a ranch in Wickenburg. She had dirt under her fingernails and the desert coming alive around her. That spirit never really left, even when life pulled her to Chicago and then San Diego. Photography became the language for it—two decades of images in national magazines, advertising campaigns, competition wins. But what she loved most wasn't the accolades. It was the people. The girls who went on to compete for titles. The quiet strength in every frame. Feeling, for a moment, like she'd captured something true.
THE SEARCH
When Dan retired and they moved back to Arizona in 2017, Laura thought she'd finally found what she was looking for. But instead came one of the hardest seasons of her life. The loss of her beloved dog Zane. The passing of her mother. Her father's hospice care. Years of trying to fit into communities that didn't quite fit her—showing up with baked goods and helpful hands, only to feel more isolated by politics and closed gates.
"I think I was just tired of always trying to explain who I am," she says. "I wanted to breathe again."
So she stepped back. She left the committees and the conflict behind. She moved to an acre in San Tan Valley, far enough from everything to finally hear herself think. The only judgment comes from the horses, dogs, and one ornery cat. The only schedule is the feeding rotation. She stopped performing. She stopped proving. She just... lived.
THE TURNING POINT
In that quiet, riding her horses and watching her dogs play, something shifted. She realized she'd been searching for her people all this time—and they were out there too. Families who loved their dogs fiercely. People who traveled with them, who understood that a Golden Retriever isn't a pet; it's a companion, a reason to build a life around. People who, like her, just wanted to be around others who got it. No explanation necessary.
That's when she decided to build something that didn't exist: a space for those people. A studio. A gathering. A home were everyone is welcome.
GOLDEN RUSH PRODUCTIONS
It's not a traditional company. It's born from everything she's learned—the strategy, the storytelling, the ability to see what people actually need beneath what they're saying. The photography. The operations. The love of community, bringing people together. It's why she can shoot professionally, manage complex partnerships, coordinate logistics, and tell compelling stories.
She was the content creator, writer and photographer for Queen Creek Living magazine —capturing the real story of her community, the families and businesses and leaders who make it matter and winning the 2026 Best Version Media Print Magazine Writing Award. Photography and words. Community and story. It's all the same thing to her.
The Golden Rush Arizona (launching October 2–4, 2026, in Flagstaff) is the flagship project—a convergence for Golden Retriever families where belonging isn't conditional and the dogs are always welcome. But Golden Rush Productions is bigger than that. It's the vessel that holds her photography, her event work, her storytelling, her consulting. It's the thing that lets her feed the herd, remember your dog's name six years later, and build something real.
WHO SHE IS
"I'm a little unconventional, a little straightforward," Laura says. "But I show up. I do the work. I remember that the small things matter—your dog's name, the story behind your business, why you actually care about what you're building. I'm not interested in shortcuts or excuses. There's grit in doing things right, and that's what I bring."
In a world that celebrates the loudest voices, Laura's work is a quiet reminder: that solitude can be sanctuary, that strength doesn't require noise, and that sometimes the most beautiful things are built not with hype, but with grace, grit, and the gentle rhythm of hooves and paws outside your window.
She's done searching for where she belongs.
She's building it instead.
Read more About her work history on LINKEDIN
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