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When I was in my twenties, I owned almost nothing. Obviously, in your twenties you’re not rich, but I owned much less than my friends. An old car, two computers, and some basic clothes. That was it. I felt completely free. When I moved to a new country at 21, I just went. No storage units, no shipping containers, no belongings to worry about or sell. Just me and my few possessions, ready for whatever came next.

Not only I had little, but I also wanted little. I had what I needed. What I wanted on top of that wasn’t important and I didn’t care about it.

This wasn’t some philosophical statement at the time. I simply found that owning less meant worrying less. Each possession we acquire carries a weight beyond its physical form: the weight of maintenance, of protection, of responsibility. When you own little, you’re free to focus on experiences rather than things.

Years later, I’ve come to see how this same principle applies to photography. We live in an age of endless gear acquisition, where each new camera release promises to unlock creativity we didn’t know we had. I’ve been there. I lusted after the 5D when it came out and bought one very shortly after it was released. I drooled over some L lenses (but never bought them). But I’ve noticed something: the more equipment I acquired, the more my photography became about the equipment itself rather than about seeing and creating.

Continue reading “Finding Freedom Through Less”

For me, the key distinction between a snapshot and true photography is intention. It took me about two years to undergo a significant shift in how I approached photography. I went from taking photos of whatever caught my eye wherever I happened to be, to having a specific photo in my head and seeking out the right time and place to create it. It was a gradual process, but one day, something clicked. I had a clear image in my mind of rocks in the sea, and I knew I needed to capture it.

Continue reading “Intention is everything”