I will never forget taking my first images with my first camera. I was 16 and so excited to see what I might produce with the new tool I had spent a month of my modest teenage earnings on.
I will also never forget what it was like to get those early images back (this was in the days of film), reviewing them and experiencing a unique emotional blend of both wonder and despair.
What I did not know at that time, was that I would endure that mix of emotions almost every time I reviewed images from any photographic session. This was to be my experience, for not weeks or months—but years of my life. It was so daunting, in fact, that I quit taking photographs multiple times. And I think it’s why a lot of beginner photographers quit.
Becoming frustrated, disenchanted, and disappointed with my images caused me to stop making them. And it was only after multi-month or multi-year breaks that I would come back to photography.
However, in my experience, it was those years of frustration and poor results that eventually created the conditions for me to produce photographs I was happy with. So, it’s ironic that the very process I found frustrating was the same process that helped me get where I wanted to go. Perhaps this seems transparently obvious to you, but it certainly wasn’t to me.
Let me tell you a two-paragraph story. It’s related, I promise.
I was a fitness instructor for a number of years, and something I would see my clients often frustrated with was the slow speed of their progress. Sometimes, this was due to diet or genetics, but often, it was something else: volume of training.
The clients that progressed the slowest were usually the ones who spent the least amount of time training. The ones who excelled and broke their own records week after week and month after month were the people who we saw in the gym multiple times every week. The direct correlation of how much time people spent working out and how they progressed, became quite obvious to me.
Volume Matters
Similarly, what I came to understand about becoming a better photographer was that I needed to forget about the quality of the individual photographs. I needed to let go of them being good or bad or being pleased or displeased with them. What I needed to do was simply focus on producing more of them. Going out with my camera more often, shooting as much as I could. This isn’t to say that I stopped trying to take photos I enjoyed; quite the opposite, in fact. But the focus turned from one of results to one of process. And that changed everything for me.
So, in my experience, volume matters. You need repetition after repetition. Year after year. And the more of it you do, the shorter amount of time you do it in, the faster you will progress.
That has been my experience anyway. I hope that was helpful. Take care.
For the third time in my life, I find myself without any permanent home. No harbor in which to anchor—I suppose.
While, at times, this can feel stressful and destabilizing, there are some unique benefits as well.
First, I find I am compelled to do more things. More of life. More of everything. There is no option to sit at home and work for months on end because no home ever lasts for months on end. I haven’t even been in the same country for more than three months over the last year. This means every routine, whether comforting or frustrating, is temporary. So, whether I like it or not—before too long—I will not be able to visit my favorite shops or drink the perfect latte at the cafe down the road. But, I also will no longer have to dodge that one uppity homeless dog that lurks outside my condo. In short order, everything changes.
However, that knowledge, that itch in the back of my mind that’s always reminding me I’ll be moving on soon, has the benefit of compelling me. It compels me not only to seek out new experiences but also to appreciate more fully the ones I already have. Not that I have perfected this; it’s an ongoing endeavor. But when traveling, I find it easier—for whatever reason.
The second benefit is that I find I am generally more productive. Moving around from place to place means I often do not have any friends in close proximity. And while this is a substantial downside to life on the road, there is a silver lining. Most of my time is my own. Once the work is done, there isn’t much else to occupy me except whatever projects or activities I choose to take on. As a result, I write more, read more, draw more, photograph more, and exercise more. That kind of thing.
And lastly, I almost always lose weight while travelling. I think in part because I leave behind the standard American diet. And in part because I don’t have a car. So I walk. Everywhere.
Traveling At Home
Anyway, with my Thailand visa expiring it was time to head back to the USA for a while. However, with no fixed location to return to, my truck is now the closest thing I have to a house. And so, my circumstances conspired to send me on a road trip across the US, driving across the American Southwest for two months.
I decided to use this opportunity to practice my video/cinematography skills a bit, as I find they are quite lacking in comparison to my photographic abilities. You would think the two mediums would be quite similar, but I don’t find that is the case.
I am proud of this video. It was the first time I committed to filming something this big and then completed it. Usually, I become too stressed and burdened with the difficulty of setting up cameras, moving them, re-shooting scenes, managing multiple terabytes of footage, etc… But, this time, I kept at it.
This is a silent film. Basically, it documents my summer. Enjoy.
I sat 37 floors above Bangkok, watching a storm roll in over The Bay of Thailand.
I met someone.
I said goodbye to someone.
I learned a lot about myself. About my life.
It was the kind of thing they put in books. The kind of story one doesn’t imagine ever makes its way into real life.
I will be forever grateful for my time here.
I hope you are well. Take care.