Focus on growing & creating your art
It's been nearly three years now since I set out on my journey as a photographer, mostly out of a necessity and desire to create. The coronavirus pandemic was still raging at the time, and I was cornered into a space where I was no longer finding it feasible to do short film and video work, as it was both time-consuming and costly. Not to mention that it felt as if all of my creative labor was not returning the fulfillment to match the level of effort I was pouring into each and every project. I was empty. I felt a void and deep desire to create, but perhaps in a more practical capacity that didn't require all of the moving components that a short film project did. Photography, I thought to myself, was this alternative solution. It was fundamentally in the same creative realm; after all, a film is a series of moving pictures. I took a leap of faith, quite literally, and sold all of my video equipment and opted for a Canon EOS R, which was the latest offering from Canon at the time, and thus began the journey.
Looking back on the last three years to where I find myself today, I would've never imagined photography to be more than just the basic concept of, well, photography. But like all things in any type of creative space, no matter what level of skillset or in what capacity, it is an art. At least it should be. And if you see photography from that perspective and based on that basic fundamental idea, then you know, like most art forms, it requires time and nourishment. The time to really hone in on your craft and discover techniques and styles that could ultimately be the threads woven together to differentiate you from the ever-growing multitude of new "photographers." Now, I say "photographers" in quotes because I feel we are living in an era where that title is thrown around so loosely. Anyone with a DSLR or mirrorless camera is now suddenly a photographer. Now, to be fair, I will say that today's advancements in technology and how easily accessible they are have made this convoluted belief even more believable. To make my point even fairer, these misguided few can pick up a camera and, in their minds, really believe the notion that they are, in fact, now "photographers." I am in no way opposed to someone who, like me three years ago, picks up a camera and ventures off on their own journey. It takes a lot of courage to do so, and I would never discredit someone for doing so. I am, however, opposed to the idea that anyone who would pick up and hold a camera would instantly believe that they are "God's gift" to the photography world. That they will somehow change the world along with the cosmos with their photos. Consuming a lust-like fantasy with a hint of delusion that not everything under the sun has already been tried and done again and again. In my short three-year tenure, I can wholeheartedly tell you that everything under the sun has already been done and redone and has in some ways become redundant.
So then what's the point of photography? If not to simply capture little Nathan's first steps, or his first birthday celebration, or perhaps even, ultimately, his high school graduation. I can pinpoint so many instances on my journey where I have paused and taken some time away from my photography to ask myself this very question. Then I would get back into doing what I have loved so much about this medium: creating. Such insignificant questions would dissolve as I allowed myself to become consumed by the art like a first love in full blossom. I focused on her and her alone. I got to know her deeply and intimately. My Canon EOS R5 became my drug of choice. It was there waiting when hardship or depression would enter my life. It would comfort me in moments of solitude. My art became synonymous with therapy, an escape from the harsh reminders of the realities of life. As intense and ridiculous as all of this may sound, it is true. It was then, and only then, when I let it consume me, that I realized it was no longer photography for me. It was an extension of myself. Shards of my being in every photograph that I took. It was my art, and I became an artist. That egotistical notion of desire to be better than everyone and anyone else began to fade away. I desired to be better than I was. To instill more of myself into each and every photograph. So that when people see my art, they know that it is me without a shroud of doubt. That they feel what I was feeling when I captured that moment.
It is disheartening to see so many photographers today consumed by the misguided idea of being better than the next or "the best." When in actuality, and in the grand scope of things, they should really just focus on getting better; to metamorphose from the bland term of photographer to that of an artist. Only then can one truly impact, if not the world, at the very least, those who would come across their art. Then they can truly say they've accomplished that which many photographers may never come to know.
