Personal photography
Looking for perfection in photography, spending fortunes on the latest hardware and gadgets, pretending to be a photography god, are all nonsense. What counts as non-professionals is evocation. And sometimes it’s not something you can convey to anyone else.
There’s a weird trend among hobby photographers: the tendency to frame their passion as “work.” This simple word choice, while seemingly innocuous, fundamentally changes our relationship with photography and risks stripping away the very essence of what makes it special.
Photography has become stuck in an endless negative cycle of expectations. Everywhere you turn, there’s someone preaching about originality, creativity, and pushing boundaries. But here’s the truth: none of that really matters.
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.
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.
In today’s world, it seems that every passion, hobby, or creative endeavour is often viewed through the lens of monetisation. Social media constantly bombards us with side-hustles, passive income streams, and the pressure to turn any skill into a money-making venture. This trend is particularly visible among millennials and younger generations, who often feel the need to transform everything they do into something “profitable.” But is it possible that something vital has been lost in this pursuit of financial gain? Where has the joy of doing things for the sheer love of them gone?
For me, photography is about capturing the moment.
One of the things that really marked me when I saw Blade Runner when I was a kid was Roy Batty’s speech at the end of the film: “I’ve seen things… You people wouldn’t believe. […] All these moments will be lost in time” (let’s ignore the debate about whether these are real human feelings, that’s not the point here) This is the sentiment I have when I take photos. Even mundane ones.
It doesn’t matter what kind of photos you take, landscapes, portraits, studio, street, even family snaps, it’s always about fixing a moment that will never happen again and that you might be the only human being to witness.
Continue reading “The witness complex”The way I think about things is that I write down what I think I think about something, then argue with myself over it as I tweak the text, until I agree with myself and I find no more changes to make. I’ve done that since I was in high school, when I discovered I liked writing.
Hello photographers of the Fediverse,
Let me float an idea.
I’ve been thinking for a good while about what I miss when I look at people’s posts. We all enjoy looking at photos people publish, and we can favourite and we can boost. But in these days of mass media consumption, what I’m missing is spending time on photos and understanding the ones that attract my eye.
Continue reading “Photographers of the Fediverse assemble!”