Look back

When we walk with a camera in hand, we tend to focus on what's in front of us, to the sides as we pass by, or up and down for the more observants among us. But rarely do we look back.

No matter which direction we’re walking, the light is always different behind us. Something we might have dismissed at first glance could reveal itself as extraordinary when viewed from the opposite angle.

Looking back isn’t an easy habit to develop, but it's one that will pay off.

You might be wondering if this will make our walks longer. Absolutely. Much longer. But that’s the point.

Lessons from “The Zen of Creativity”

I recently finished reading “The Zen of Creativity” by the zen master and photographer John Daido Loori. This mix of skills gave me hope the book would offer a new and fresh perspective.

The book does indeed give valuable insights into applying some of the Zen art principles to photography and other creative areas.

Here are the main takeaways I got from it:

Beginner’s Mind

Embrace a mindset free from preconceived ideas and expectations. In photography, this might mean taking the time to fully observe familiar subjects. Also, visit locations or subjects that you haven’t seen before, with no prior knowledge about them, or exposure to another photographer’s work of them.

No Mind

The goal is to achieve a state of awareness devoid of distractions --achieved through meditation and consistent practice. I believe this is a very important aspect when it comes to photography, and that’s why I often emphasize the importance of practice. The more familiar we become with our equipment, the less it gets in the way, letting us to focus on what’s in front of the camera and on what we want to say.

Seeing with the Whole Body and Mind

Be mindful of what our senses, beyond vision, perceive and how we can communicate that through our photography. Evoking emotional responses in the viewer should be our primary objective. Even not on the book, I’d also like to point out here that those senses can trick us into believing our images are better than they really are. As photographers, we have a context the viewer does not have, and if the photographs are not strong enough to convey what’s necessary, then they’ll only speak to us.

Creative Feedback

Lastly, Loori emphasizes the significance of feedback. Not on technical aspects, but on the emotional impact our work has on the audience. He believes that most artists develop their career without truly knowing what their work means for their audience, if anything. They know what the art critics say, and whether the work is commercially successful or not. But beyond that, they are blind.

I go into much more detail on this book on my Patreon page.

I broke my one rule... and it cost me

I didn't follow the rules I've set up for myself... and I missed a couple of good shots.

Why I shoot with a high resolution camera (A7Riv)

For the past five years, I’ve been using high-resolution full-frame cameras for my photography -- starting with the A7Rii, and now the A7Riv. This choice might seem surprising, especially given the type of images I create.

The reason is very simple: cropping.

I crop every single photograph I take, even when I get the perfect framing in-camera. Creating square images means I “discard” a third of the pixels, every single time.

A7Riv’s 61MP let me crop even further, and I often do. Switching to APS-C mode gives that extra reach I sometimes need, effectively turning my 28-200mm superzoom into a 28-300mm, while still producing large, detailed files.

In fact, in APS-C mode, the A7Riv matches the 26MP of a dedicated crop-sensor camera like the a6700. This means I can mount a lens like the 70-350mm and get an equivalent 525mm focal length in a compact setup -- much smaller than the full-frame counterparts. Or mount a prime like the 35mm 1.4 and "switch" to 50mm with the press of a button.

So, it’s not about having 61MP images; I couldn’t care less about that. It's about the flexibility those megapixels give me: I don't have to carry as much gear; or I can shoot in bad weather and not have to worry about switching lenses to get the focal length I need. I like camera gear that gets out of the way, because I can focus on what really matters: subject and composition.

Am I consistent... or just repetitive?

Oh, the delicate balance between consistency, working a subject matter or location over years, and avoiding stagnation. To make matters even worse, we live in a fast paced world that demands new and shiny things every couple of weeks. What is a photographer to do with all of this?

From snapshot to fine art photograph

Black and White takes whatever the world has to offer, and gives us the freedom to create our own version of it. Images that only existed in our mind before.

In this video, I share some tips and techniques to get creative with Black and White photography, how we can take a snapshot and transform it into a fine art piece.

How to pick your best photos

If you are like me, and like going out often and taking lots of pictures, you might have hundreds if not thousands of photographs sitting in your memory cards or in a hard drive. In this video, we'll see how we can go from hundreds of images to just a handful of ones, our very best photographs.

Photography must be difficult

"One of the downsides of the disposable camera is that it’s fun, which is in strict contrast to real professional photography which must always be stressful, or else you go to photography jail." - Casually Explained (YT)

The best photographers wear the most comfortable shoes

Photography is the best excuse to go explore the world. Even better, to discover a whole new dimension that has always been there, hiding in plain sight. The camera is a superpower. But it all starts with a pair of comfortable shoes.

How great photography is done

This photo by photojournalist Evan Vucci is already an iconic image of our times. The amazing Imitative Photography YouTube channel has a great video showing how that photograph was made - a rare example of how great photography is done.

And yet, some still miss the point. “Right aperture / exposure / iso”, “there’s nothing special about being on this spot, they literally were right there” are some of the comments. Go figure.

Now, I have no idea what the exact settings were. Evan had much more important things to focus on, so it is likely that they were already dialed in for the conditions, or that he was shooting in some semi-automatic mode. In any case, he could've missed on some of those settings and the image would've still been as iconic as it finally turned out to be.

Indeed, the image is iconic not because it's perfectly exposed, it has no noise, or because the color balance is accurate. No, it's all about the story it tells. And making it might look easy, but it was anything but that.

What those commenters are missing is that the image was made because of Evan’s vision, who was able to anticipate what was going to happen next by moving to the right spots; the big balls it takes to point a camera at a presidential candidate when armed forces are looking for a shooter (who you don’t even know if is still active!); the experience it takes to frame your subject perfectly in a chaotic environment without thinking much about it; and the practice it requires to know how to use your camera as fast as Evan did, literally an extension of his body.

When something looks easy but yet only a few manage to do it, you know they are some of the best at what they do. Of course, there’s nothing especial to that shot, provided you are at the right spot, at the right time, ready and with the skills and experience required to make it happen. Other than that, nothing to see here.

The key to great photography is boring

In a world that is constantly trying to sell us shortcuts and workarounds, it's important to realize that the road to great photography is rather unassuming and kind of boring. It is the accumulation of great work made over the years with hard work that we can start building a body of work. It is a very simple path, but not easy to follow.

How to develop your photographic taste

In order to make great photographs, we need to know what makes them great in the first place. Developing a photographic taste is crucial, both internal (our own taste) and external (the objective truths of the medium).

In this video, we dive deep into this topic and talk about how we can get better as photographers by improving our taste.

Practice doesn’t make perfect, and that’s why you should practice even more

I am a huge advocate of daily photography. I try to take photographs wherever I am, whatever I’m doing. One reason is that there’s always an image waiting to be made, but also because I believe the more we do it, the better we get at it.

Surely, blind practice can be detrimental in deterministic scenarios, like basketball: sticking to a bad shooting technique when you are missing all your shots can make you a worse player in the long run. Practice doesn’t always make perfect without feedback and corrections.

But what does “perfect” even mean in photography as an art?

When we take photographs often, we become more familiar with our camera, our process, dealing with different subjects and lighting conditions, and post-processing.

More importantly, spending a bit of time every day paying attention to our surroundings, looking for something worthwhile to capture, can only make us better observers.

And above all, mistakes are not to be avoided in photography. Experimentation is fundamental to growing as an artist, even if it doesn’t seem like it at first.

There’s never been perfection in art, and there will never be.

Why I don’t do any location scouting

I don’t believe in location scouting when it comes to landscape and fine art photography.

It’s not that I don’t find value in exploring a place before a planned shoot; it’s just that I don’t do it with the only purpose of “gathering information”, as it’s usually understood.

There’s only a first time for everything: you’ll only see a place with completely fresh eyes once. The second time you visit a location, you’ve already built some preconceived ideas about it. Over time, we may only be able to see a very limited amount of images in that location.

It is during that first time that our minds are most open. If we have a camera with us, we can play and experiment more freely; if we leave it at home, we prevent ourselves from even trying.

Deciding beforehand what the “right” and “wrong” time might be for a location we don’t even know can be a costly mistake.

An audience of zero

Many photographers dismiss the idea of creating for an audience. “Create for yourself”, they say.

But even for those who despise the notion of creating with others in mind, there's a very special kind of audience we all should consider: our future self.

Time tends to add emotional distance between then and now. If the images we create fail to resonate with others today, they might also fail to resonate with us in the future.

This is why I believe we should reflect on our images from a more objective and detached point of view. So our audience of one doesn't end up becoming an audience of zero.

The most harmful belief I had as a beginner photographer

I used to think that good photographers consistently take great photographs, and only rarely they make something subpar. Surely, their “keeper rate” was much better than mine.

This was one of the most harmful beliefs I held when I was taking my first steps in photography. Because when you don’t allow yourself to fail, you play it safe; and when you play it safe, there’s no growth.

Making a bad photograph is not the risk: the lack of experimentation and play is the real danger.

Who are we creating our art for?

In this video, I expand a little bit more on the post from a couple of days ago, Who are you creating for?.

By the way, this video is from my second channel, @aows.jpg, where I talk all things photography. One I created to keep my main channel cleaner, but you can read more about that here.

Growth is hard, but so rewarding

Scotland has been quite a challenging place to photograph, to say the least. For most of my time here, the rain and wind made my job incredibly difficult.

My gear took some damage (exhibit 1, 2 and 3), but I also had to endure the elements myself.

And yet, these challenges made me a better photographer. Scotland pushed me, but it did so in a very positive way. I had to work hard, really hard, but without being overwhelmed by impossible conditions, even though I did face some of those moments.

I feel like I've grown as a photographer more in the last 2 months than in the entire past year, since I went on a similar adventure across Norway. It was tough, even painful at times, but I cherished every minute of it.

Testing our limits, wherever they may lie, is key to growth and progression. Photography is no exception.

Who are you creating for?

Most watched videos on my YouTube Channel

From my experience, a photographer's audience is comprised of mainly two groups: people who enjoy their images; and other photographers.

The latter is a much larger group than the former, and that's why many photographers seem to be creating for others like them.

Take a look at the screenshot above showing the most watched videos on my YouTube channel: many more people want to hear about an 8-year-old camera that is not being made anymore, than to see what can be done with it.

Photography is such an accessible medium (everyone with a smartphone is a photographer!), that most people will come at it from the perspective of a photographer rather than a passive viewer.

Everyone wants to become a better photographer, the faster the better. That's why talking about camera gear sells, or why arguments over ISO values are a thing.

Some photographers have had so much success with this approach that they all but stopped taking pictures. They've become extremely knowledgeable about cameras and lenses, but they might have forgotten how to use them.

However, I'm not here to shame anyone --that expertise is extremely valuable, and we should consider ourselves lucky enough to have it available out there, mostly for free.

But I doubt this was what most of us had envisioned when we first picked up a camera. This is simply a reminder to everyone out there -including myself- to never forget why we started taking pictures in the first place, and who we are creating for.

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Sometimes, I'll rewatch some of my older videos. I love the work I did in the Great Salt Lake, or in the beautiful Lofoten Islands, among many others. But I have never, ever, rewatched any of my top 10 most viewed videos -- the ones focused on camera gear or the technical aspects of photography. And I think that speaks volumes.

Still, the reality of photography is what it is, and that's one of the reasons why I decided to create a second channel a few months ago. I haven't uploaded any video for a while there, but I'm about to start very soon. That is "content" aimed to photographers and nothing else. The main channel will become a sort of sacred place where I shall talk less and less about photography, and more about the why we create.

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Update: I expand on this a bit more in this video.

Good work is not enough

Cormac McCarthy died yesterday at the age of 89. According to Wikipedia, McCarthy is "widely regarded as one of the greatest modern American writers".

What I didn't know about him is that after 26 years of writing, none of McCarthy's novels "had sold more than 5,000 hardcover copies". He was labelled the "best unknown novelist in America".

He spent half of his long writing career as a mostly unknown writer. Success did eventually come to McCarthy, though, and only then his early work was appreciated the way it deserved.

The arts, and that includes photography, are not a meritocracy: good work, even outstanding work, is not a guarantee of success.

Another lesson we can take from his example and many similar others is that success is a lagging indicator. The same goes for failure, by the way.

We do not become what we are today overnight; it's only after weeks, months, years, decades, of hard work (or the lack of) that we achieve results (or not). It took McCarthy 26 years of dedication, of not giving up, to get significant recognition.

At the same time, in order to survive for that long, we should not make that kind of success our end goal. Would you be able to yearn for public recognition for a quarter of a century and still find the strength to keep going? I know I would not, I would've given up.

It's only when we find joy in what we do, and when we set our own definition of success, what that looks like for us, that we have a chance to succeed. And even if that never comes, at least we have poured our souls into our work and shared it with whoever was there to listen to us.