Photography is often spoken about as if it were a competition, measured by likes, awards, or comparisons with others. Yet at its core, photography is a deeply personal practice. The way we see, decide, and capture moments is unique to each of us, shaped by our experiences, timing, and attention. Understanding this distinction is essential to sustaining a meaningful and fulfilling relationship with the creativity that photography allows.
Photography as a Personal Practice
I have been photographing for a long time—long enough to notice patterns in my own behavior, and long enough to see how easily photography can drift away from what first made it meaningful.
At some point, photography started to be spoken about as if it were a contest. Not officially, of course, but in practice. Who is seen more? Who shares more? Who progresses faster? None of that was ever part of why I picked up a camera, yet it slowly crept in around the edges.
Photography, at least as I understand it, is a personal act. You are alone when you take the photograph, even if you are standing beside someone else. You decide where to stand. When to wait. When to walk away. Turning that into something to be measured against others changes its character completely. I do not think photography survives that shift very well.
The Trap of Seeking Approval
To understand this, we need to be honest with ourselves, for starters. There was a period when I chased approval. I recognized it only after the fact. I would come back from a shoot and immediately think about how an image might land online rather than whether it meant anything to me. I adjusted framing. I avoided certain scenes because they felt too cliché. I leaned toward what I thought would work rather than what had actually caught my attention at the time.
The photographs from that period are fine, technically. But they feel like they lack my personal input or even style, for that matter. I was there, sure, but only partly. Comparison played a large role in that, and I only recognize that now when I look back. I was constantly looking at other photographers’ work and quietly ranking myself against it. Not out of jealousy, as such, but out of measurement. As if photography were something that could be leveled and scored. It’s OK to get inspiration from others, but to then make ourselves feel bad because of it—that’s not how it should be. It shouldn’t work like that.
Comparison and Its Consequences
Everyone arrives at photography with different circumstances. Different times in life, access, energy, and responsibilities. Some people travel constantly. Others work close to home. Some are early risers; others photograph after work when the light is already fading. Some only have a small window to shoot, while others have multiple opportunities. Treating all of that as a single ladder ignores reality.
I have looked at work that is far stronger than mine and felt deflated. That feeling never improved anything. It did not sharpen my eye or slow me down and make me think more while in the field. It only made me question decisions I had already made. When we focus on one thing, it can grow, and if it’s the wrong thought process, it can fester. The doubt lingered longer than it should have, and I only recognize that in retrospect.
When attention drifts too far outward, it affects our behavior. Subtly at first. You start seeing subjects through the filter of what has already been successful elsewhere. I’m sure there will be people reading this who have seen a shot and gone to the same place to get their version of the same shot, nearly placing their tripod in the exact same holes left by others in the past. Certain compositions begin to feel “safe.” Others feel like a risk, not because they are wrong, but because they do not resemble what you have been seeing praised.
I noticed this in myself after spending too long looking at other people’s portfolios. I would head out with ideas that were not really mine. The photographs looked familiar in a way I could not explain. It took stepping back for a while to recognize that my decisions were being influenced before I even reached the location. Distance helped. Not isolation, but space.
Real Progress Takes Time
Real improvement in photography is slower than most people want to admit. It happens quietly, more so. You begin to notice light sooner than you used to. You recognize when a scene will not work and move on without frustration. You stay longer when something feels unresolved instead of rushing to fill an SD card, so you at least have something to bring home.
Real progress comes from repetition and reflection. From seeing the same place in different conditions. From reviewing images weeks later and understanding why something did or did not work. It is not dramatic. You often only notice it when you look back at older work and realize you would not make those choices now.
I keep old photographs for that reason. Not because they are “bangers.” Some are poor. Some still hold up. Together, they show a line of thinking over time. They can also show growth and progression in my skills, and a style of my own evolving. None of that had anything to do with outperforming anyone else.
Photography, Experience and Social Media
At its core, photography records experience, not achievement. A photograph says, “I noticed this.” Nothing more than that. It does not declare importance or status. It does not elevate the photographer above anyone else standing nearby. Some of the images that matter most to me are from ordinary moments. Places I walk regularly. Light hitting a rock or cliff for a few seconds before disappearing. They remind me of being there, paying attention. I do not need agreement from anyone else to justify them. Art is subjective, after all, and it should remain that way, in my opinion. Not because some social media influencer has made something cool.
Social media, of course, complicates this, whether we like it or not. The way these platforms are built encourages comparison. Numbers are visible. Response is immediate. It is difficult not to read meaning into that, even when you know better. One image receives attention; another does not. It starts to feel like an evaluation.
The platforms themselves are not the problem on their own. They are tools. What matters is how they are used and what you allow them to feed you. The phrase “you are what you eat” applies here more than most people realize. Spend enough time consuming polished, spectacular work, and you start to believe that everything else is inadequate. Subtlety feels weak. Ordinary subjects feel unworthy of attention. You begin to question your instincts.
Used carefully, the same platforms can do the opposite. Following people whose work aligns with how you want to see. Seeing someone grow with you feels far more rewarding than seeing someone move out of your league, as such. Engaging with the process rather than the outcome. Sharing without watching the response too closely. These small decisions change the effect entirely. I now limit how much time I spend there—not as a rule, but as a habit. When I do engage, I try to be intentional about what I am taking in. It keeps the balance right. I also find myself hitting the like button on newer photographers, as I know how that felt when I was starting out, and perhaps that might encourage them more as a result.
Sustainable Photography
Stepping away from competitive thinking changes photography back into something sustainable: a long conversation rather than a series of comparisons. Images accumulate over time as evidence of attention, not performance.
Of course, it would be remiss of me not to mention actual competitions in photography; they can be good for focusing our minds on one particular subject or genre, but far too often, if the desired result isn’t achieved, it can have the opposite effect that we were hoping for. Why did that photo win? Mine was better; they must know the judges, they must have a secret sauce, etc. If not carefully considered, we could fall into that trap again very easily.
No one else can make your photographs. Not because they are better or worse, but because they are shaped by your experiences, your timing, and your choices. Competing ignores that entirely.
Photography grows the same way it always has: through attention, through time, through returning again and again without needing to prove anything. It is not about winning. It never was.
Before we finish, I feel it’s important to digest this and ask ourselves some important questions. There are no right or wrong answers, of course, but you should be honest with yourself and take a moment to let your answers sink in.
Ask Yourself:
- When you head out with your camera, what are you actually trying to achieve? Is it an experience, or is it to measure yourself against someone else?
- Have you ever changed how you framed a shot because you thought it would look different online?
- Do you review your work to understand it, or just judge it?
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below, and let’s get this conversation going.
36 Comments
Loved this piece - thank you! I'd like to precis this for my local camera club, some of whom could benefit from hearing what you've said so clearly. (I took a 20-year detox to rediscover 'my own style' after only a few years early-on with that club.)
Thanks very much, I'm delighted you enjoyed the article. Good to see your detox worked also..
Think about it... if you're on Instagram, most likely 5 year old kids are givng you their approval. It is what it is. Enjoy the approval of children! What a grand world.
Your opening line in the video says: “Photography is not a competition, and it never was.” For personal enjoyment, that may be true. That’s like saying golf is not a competition. But the minute your photography (or golf) becomes a business and your success or failure determines whether there will be food on the table, it’s very much a competition. And there’s a long history connecting art and competition, which led to our modern day camera clubs holding regular competitions. The Photographic Society of London in the 1800s was a fiercely competitive organization, as was the Paris Salon exhibition of art where painters fought for recognition and commissions.
I appreciate how photography is a highly personal endeavor, shaped by a lifetime of experiences. That’s what distinguishes our style, but while competition may not significantly alter my style of photography, it impacts how I share and promote my work. It affects how many sales I make. Stock photography is probably the most competitive industry on the planet. Fine Art America hosts the work of half-a-million artists… that’s a lot of competition. The thing about running a business though is that we need to filter out all of the conflicting noise and opinions, and chart a course that we believe in, which often requires an honest appraisal of both praise and criticism. Competition, when interpreted correctly, sharpens our artistic and business skills, and can provide a reality check on our dreams of making a living from photography. It surely doesn't mean that we have to sell our soul to the devil by producing work which goes against our values, but it means being cognizant of how competition impacts our relationships with buyers of our work.
Thanks, Ed, for your insightful addition. For the majority of photographers out there, it's not a profession nor ever will be, and this is the point I'm making more so than as a professional photographer. Additionally, all professional photographers started out not as a pro, so the basis for enjoyment should be important to get right before considering entering the difficult world of professional photography. If the foundation and motivations aren't set out right to begin with, then how long do you think the enjoyment will last?
Competition is an issue of psychological and emotional framework, not necessarily the basis for enjoyment. In other words, you and I may enjoy photography for the same reasons, and have the same foundational love and passion for making a picture, but respond to competition and criticism differently. Whether we're amateur or pro makes no difference. Some people are emotionally fine with criticism and look forward to having their images compared with other peoples work. Other people have thin skin and emotionally retreat from any sort of criticism or comparison. It makes them feel horrible. Both people can have a root love of photography but due to emotional differences, be either confident or fearful of showing it to the outside world. The enjoyment lasts as long as anyone wants it to. Some people who are really bad at sports thrive on competition for the sake of competition. I played a lot of golf with people who were never very good but loved playing for a beer. The spirit of competition is only bad for people who can't handle failure. Other people thrive by it. We're all different. I'm not suggesting one is better than another, just that competition can be a motivator for some people. I saw it manifested both ways at the camera club which I described below.
The Fstoppers contests are a good example. You would agree these are competitions, no, yes? A few prizes, and maybe some exposure of our images, for whatever those are worth. But mostly an opportunity to see how the outside world views our images. And for the large majority of people who submit a picture, I suspect they're disappointed. Rarely does an image score above the "needs work" category. I've entered several images that I had worked on for hours and sometimes days... and received an overall score of something like 2.38 (needs work). Hmmmm... maybe my stuff isn't as good as I thought. Maybe I have no business thinking it's worth trying to sell. But I do succeed in that regard, and so some competitions simply are of no great insight. However, if those critics who think my images need work would explain why, it would change everything. I might learn how my images could be improved, and I will always appreciate that. I'm open to learning, and competitions have the capacity to educate. Unfortunately, most of them such as the Fstoppers contests offer very limited education, other than Lee and Patrick's critique... and I don't always agree with their comments, but at least they challenge us to THINK and analyze, which is the underlying process which helps inspire my passion for photography.
"rarely does an image score above the 'needs work' category"
Sorry, number without explanation annoys me. There are two problems with the concept of "needs work":
1. People evaluate/rank/rate differently.
Tom only ranks from 1 to 4. God on a good day, might get the five.
A manager felt this was a motivator. But some employees felt their work was less respected. And they could never compete with other departments whose managers used 1 to 5, such as for the bonus pool, or avoiding layoffs.
Bob feels 3 means the "manual pencil sharpener" worked as intended.
He would have used 4 of it somehow turned itself, and 5 if they sent someone to actually sharpen pencils. 2 meant dull blade, and 1 meant it took 3 days to arrive instead of 2.
For normal people like you and I, 5 means it worked and we would recommend it; 4 means the blade might be a bit dull, but still good; 3 means the shavings catcher kept falling off; 2 means missing parts; and 1 means, I dunno, it exploded at first use.
I've met Tom and Bob, so I know they exist. And without explanations, you can't know what their numbers mean, But if you assume *their* numbers mean the same thing as *your* numbers, you automatically downgrade your work for no fair reason.
2. When your work is judged by one, two, five, 10 judges that are known, vetted, and respected, their numbers *might* mean something; not a lot, perhaps, but something. I think they mean more with an explanation, but that not always practical.
When the numbering is opened to the world, you're going to get "needs improvement". The Mona Lisa is going to get need improvement. "The eyes are spooky", "The lips are too red, or not red enough", "should have used titanium pigment" (which wasn't invented until 400 years later). If more people can rate or comment, more of them are going to find negatives. But much worse, some people just never have anything nice to say, An unfortunate reality of our day. And with bots and automation to amplify that negativity, it's unavoidable, unfair, and unwarranted. I know it's hard to do sometimes, but ignore it.
To Sum up:
1. If it's positive, enjoy.
2. If it's negative without explanation, ignore it. Completely, utterly, ignore it. Give it even less thought/concern than that scurrilous commenter did.
3. If it's negative with explanation, consider it. Maybe it will improve your skills, maybe not. Maybe It's worth a change on your part, maybe not; **your choice**.
Interesting analogy with the manual pencil sharpener. I had one as a kid on my desk at home. Big rubber eraser and wite-out too. I'm sort of the opinion that having nothing to say is worse than never having anything nice to say, which has caused me to respond to the Fstoppers contests by (adding to your list)....
4. Quit and take my bat and ball somewhere else to play (stop entering the contest). If all we can expect are meaningless numbers, why bother subjecting ourselves to that? I tend to think that people give an image a contest score of two because they like it better than a one but less than a three. Without having any idea why. I can handle the criticism, but I can't handle the silence. Even Tom and Bob supported their scores with an explanation. I didn't join the community just to have a conversation with myself. I found that even initiating a comment about someone else's photo could be walking through a minefield. The slightest critique could cause a defensive explosion with some people, so better to just get away from that place completely.
I very much relate to what you write here, Ed.
I receive so many monthly and bi-monthly photo calls, given out to a list of photographers by magazine editors. Dozens of us respond to the "Call for Images" and hope that a number of our images are selected, so that we can receive some much-needed income for the usage rights.
So the editor may need 2 photos of a particular deer behavior, a close up head shot of a particular species of duck, a wide prairie wetland landscape shot with both cows and ducks in the frame, and 4 specific photos of duck hunters engaging in various aspects of a duck hunt. Dozens of us all send the very best images we have that fit the needs list, and desperately hope to be the one who has the most images chosen. If that is not a competition, then I have no idea what is.
Since the advert of smart phones I had almost stopped my photography. It seems like suddenly the whole world had gained an interest in photography and there was no way for me to stand out, and I didn't want to be just another within a very large crowd.
But recently I have regained my passion for photography. I think it coincided with the revived interest in retro cameras.
My first camera was In the Pentax K1000. With just 12 or 24 frames per roll, every photo was precious. And as you say in your article, each photo is deeply personal. And in the days before social media it was absolutely not about sharing, or about likes. Well, it was about what I liked, and what I felt. I loved the few delayed gratification of waiting to see the developed product, often a disappointment but always a motivation to improve. Most of my most precious photos are of that era, and they reflect the way I looked at the world. Seeing the photos now, it is like looking into my soul.
And recently I have rediscovered this passion. And I'm happy to share it with just myself.
Oh I remember those days waiting for the film to be developed, and the excitement of seeing what came through.. I also found myself more often than not challenging the lab as to why they messed up my images, but quickly discovered that it was my own fault to begin with :-) Delayed gratification is something that we need to ensure is never forgotten. Alas, in the modern world, everything seems to need to be instant. What camera are you shooting with now? Thanks for your comment
David wrote:
"It seems like suddenly the whole world had gained an interest in photography and there was no way for me to stand out, and I didn't want to be just another within a very large crowd."
So it seems that to you, the main reason for doing photography is not for your own personal satisfaction, but rather to show your work to others and to have them be impressed and enjoy it. Would this statement be correct, or am I mistaken and interpreting your comment incorrectly?
I thoroughly enjoyed and agreed with this piece. Not much was said about photo competitions, although the implications were there. Let me indulge in a perhaps de trop polemic, not to convince the readers but merely to air some of my thoughts on competitions and camera clubs. Competitions and clubs often go together. In one club, if one submits photographs, an image will be given a score, but images will also be evaluated verbally no matter that you ask them not to. You will hear them, otherwise do not submit. The critics will then shove their opinions down your throat. Deal with it. The competition adjudicators can sometimes be over-opinionated, but the photographer is seldom allowed to argue against their views or say anything, and in any case, will be seen as defensive and needing more instruction. Being a “good” photographer and being a photography critic require many different skill sets, but photography club organizers mostly ignore that, if they realize that at all. Samuel Johnson, the famous English lexicographer from the 18th century knew that when he said that one did not need to be a carpenter to evaluate furniture. I haven’t seen them invite non-photographer photography writers (I could name a few) and they almost surely would not have invited Susan Sontag (who was not a photographer), whose truths about photography were, well, for some too much truth to digest. Oh she was not a photographer, oh she was not an academic philosopher, and she did not own a camera – well, she had more philosophical insights than most photographers on the subject. You may also remember Ada Louise Huxtable, a noted architecture critic, who was not an architect or drafter, although she studied architectural history at university. And then there is Rudyard Kipling’s famous line from The English Flag: “What should they know of England, who only England know?” Club organizers will invite a ”well-known” pro-photographer (or so they say) from a major city or from some well-known glossy rag/mag to be the critic, assuming that their word is golden in all genres of photography. They also assume that the chosen critic knows how to critique; a potentially fatal flaw (but not to the organizers). As one finds out very soon, their knowledge is often limited. For example, because a critic is an admired portrait photographer or admired in any other photographic way, does not mean that they know a thing about say architectural photography or abstract photography or, as I once found, ICM. A lauded photographer (the club organizers thought so) turned critic, viewed a number of photographs from different photographers that were in fact ICM images, but the critic sarcastically dismissed them as out of focus and unfortunate camera shake. Critics will often divulge all their ill-thought opinions on topics instead of simply stating that they do not know much or anything about certain genres or aspects of photography. In short tiresome, bar some refreshing exceptions, who are humble, devoid of ego, kind, sensitive, insightful, and acknowledge that their views are merely their perceptions. And if there are two or more critics, you can bet that where there is uncertainty of what scores to allocate, the dominant personality in that group will prevail for better or for worse. Competitions are mostly a waste of one’s time, primarily because there is seldom agreement between anyone in the club, as to which the best images are. No image is a shoe-in. Art cannot be measured with a scoring rubric or numbers although it often is (can someone please tell them that?), but adjudicators probably would measure art with a stopwatch if they could. I often wish someone would calculate an inter-rater reliability coefficient of reviewers’ numerical ratings of images (in their spirit of the numbers game). Oh, they might opine, that is too much to ask, not artistic at all or in the spirit of the show, and it would spoil the absurd, chaotic, irrational fun of a competition. Fun for me? – not so much – trite and tiresome, yes.
Interesting treatise on camera clubs. Thank you. You may have found our club more to your liking. In and around 2015, I was appointed the competition director for a three year term... as a result of having been somewhat of an outspoken critic of the manner in which they had been run. My criticisms were essentially a carbon copy of your comment. When the club president decided to move out-of-town, she looked directly at me during the meeting and asked for a "volunteer" for that position of competition director. How can one say no at that point. So I turned competitions very much from what you describe into an educational experience.
As before I took the job, I still found judges and calculated scores which produced a winner. If I hadn't, there would have been a mutiny from the old-timers whose sole interest was in bagging the trophies. By the way, our club was about 35 members in attendance. But every presentation of the results was a discussion... not a one-way lecture. Since we live in a rural area and our judges were generally distant professionals, the process was handled online and I asked judges to graciously write a couple comments explaining their scores. And the comments became the basis for a discussion at our meetings. Every last person, novice or expert, was invited to speak about the judges' comments, or anything else they found relevant about a given contest photo. Nobody was permitted a title of the anointed one, which changed the discussion dynamics a bit. As moderator of the discussion, I never allowed anyone to get by with a simple "like it" or "hate it" comment. Any opinion was acceptable, but only with some thought as to why someone felt that way. Some people still found competitions emotionally hard to handle when honest opinions were expressed, and a low score can be incredibly disappointing. But most people found it to be a fun and friendly environment for improving their photography. I constantly reminded everyone that judges were not automatically correct in everything they said, and that it was up to each person to decide what fit, and what did not fit, for them individually.
Alas, Covid hit and the club never survived. Most camera clubs are formal organizations requiring commitment from a lot of people assigned to different sort of tasks. We had had that for a long time, but rebuilding the club in 2022 seemed different. Newcomers would come to a meeting but would be turned off by the need for filling vacancies on the board. They wanted to pay their membership dues and sit and be entertained. The club officially closed in 2024, which was sad, but it was trying to survive in a different era than when it began in 1982. In the eighties, if you were a serious photographer, you had a substantial investment in camera gear, film and processing. Finding people to take an active role in the club was relatively easy. Nowadays everyone with a cellphone in their pocket wants a quick and easy solution for improving their pictures. It rarely works that way, and it's hard to convince someone with a day job, three kids in after-school activities, and a spouse to feed at dinner, that photography demands a lot of time and dedication.
Not without a happy ending though, after the camera club dissolved, several of us formed a loose group to share our photography once a month at the local library. The difference between our group and the camera club was that there are no formal positions, no by-laws, no membership dues, no competitions... no nothing except the requirement that everyone bring at least one physical print and share the story behind the photo. No wall-flowers allowed. We have about ten of us, and it separates the serious photographer from those looking to be the official club critic, or simply engage in a social activity. Meetings are by invitation only and we don't invite anyone known to have a supersized ego. So I believe that there are club structures which work. And I feel photography is something that needs to be shared. While the act of making a photo is often solitary, I can't imagine burying them on a hard drive forever for no one else to see. While social media can easily turn into a sewer of insults and shallow comments, a personal face-to-face gathering of photographers is the perfect environment for satisfying the human instinct to be together, and talk about the goals we're pursuing (without keeping score). No winners, no losers, just a reflection of what is.
"At some point, photography started to be spoken about as if it were a contest. Not officially, of course, but in practice."
For me when I got serious about wildlife photography, it actually was very much a competition, and to a large extent it still is.
How so?
Well, most of us who are serious about it are trying to get our images used in the ways that pay the most. That means the cover of nationally circulated for-profit magazines, such as Outdoor Life and Field and Stream. Interior usage pays well, but not as well as the front cover. And some less prominent publications pay well, but not nearly as well as OL or F&S.
So if I travel to a well known spot to photography trophy caliber Whitetail Deer during the November breeding season, there will be about a dozen other very serious, professional photographers there. We all want to get spectacular portraits of the biggest bucks that fill the frame and need no cropping. That is what will be used for the premier magazine covers, that pay out the biggest money.
This is the reality of photographing highly sought after species such as Whitetail Deer. All of us who are out there want our photos to be the ones selected for the highest paying cover photos. So how is it not a competition?
Yes the days before the digital age and film was it and the camera was ones own and the product was in cigar boxes or boxes in a closet. Yes i started back in the 70's with a Canon Ftb that I today call automatic, Why?, it had a built in light meter with a needle that went up and down with your direction and light from something then as you turned that aperture another needle with a circle moved and you put them together and with internal circuit's and some programing you captured light of a subject.
A point here also is you and only you saw the images on a piece of film paper then tossed in a box or drawer. This was the age of hobby's and yes there were pro's making money doing it but many of the photographers had jobs that put food on the table.
I was a very lucky photographer being in the military in the navy sailing around places no one I knew had ever been. And I was a introvert meaning I had no real friends just co workers and when on liberty I was always alone free to capture where ever and when ever with those images sent home and put in boxes till i returned. The slide images that put on a show for family but learned fast that interest was lost in about a half hour or so but it was not because of bad images it was more of a dreaming by those not able to go to those places.
Some of us can remember the paintings on the walls in living rooms that everyone had most all different but like those in museums where people of today looking at centuries old paintings with the high brow people of the arts tell others what they think about each, what a waste of time just enjoy. Today no paintings on a wall or even family photos all are locked in a digital box.
Another thought for being a hobbyist is when you go on social security believe it or not you are limited on extra income as well as taxed at a higher rate like 85% of SS income.
A lot of Pro photographers make income for tours to place the photographer had gone and captured a good image that others want to get for themselves, those never look in their own back yards so to speak. Example for one is all who go to the dark places with dark skies when they can capture in and around the places they live.
A hobby is for one "Your Eyes" to enjoy the most! If you make it to the old folks home for your memory wall that will end in a box and a dump later!!!! Digital images have no decryptions on the back leaving all to wounder where and what, have you looked in someone's old box of photos yet.
1. Captured with my Canon T2i not knowing anything about the MW just pointing that way and only after many years looking at old images and saw what was in the sky.
2. Captured MW over next door house 2015 A7SM1.
3. 1984 Honeymoon on Paradise Island Canon Ftb, remembering good old times with film.
4. My tools in the beginning also when going digital with the A7SM1 with adapters and an app on the camera that did the Lens Correction but really not needed and also a collection of FAST GLASS as they call it from the past.
I began with a Canon Tlb many years ago and gradually the cameras became larger and larger. Glad I had the good sense to stop at 4x5 because film is gigantically more expensive now. When i started 4x5 film was about 50 cents a sheet before processing. Now it's almost $5.00 a sheet, and more if you have it processed commercially. The paper I started out printing on was about $2.00 for a 16x20 inch fiber based sheet. Today that same sheet of paper is around $10.00 per sheet. I do prefer using the large format camera at lot, and even my 2 1/4 cameras occasionally. But I use digital a lot more out of necessity.
Nice writing. I agree. Any artistic endeavor has to be for the soul first, and then as an economic medium. I completely get it when people say that you have to figure out a way to put food on the table; and we do. Personally my work is divided into two completely separated, and yet related, parts. There is the work I do for clients, and the work I do because I am the client. The two may at times overlap, but they are for the most part completely separate. My commercial type work is work I do only to please the client, or to meet a need they might have. My personal work is done strictly because it allows me the luxury of personal expression, and to communicate visually ideas I may have.
Forums like this are important because they allow us to share ideas. What I like about these forums is that i get to look at the work of some very good artists who I would never cross paths with otherwise. The thing i find less favorable is that a huge percentage of photographers here always want to talk about the gear they like and hope to spend big money on, or already have spent big money on. i wish there were forums here that didn't talk about what's in their toy box, or what they want to add to their toy box, and instead talked about the ideas behind what they do. That conundrum is one reason I left PPA and camera clubs almost altogether, because I don't give a rats rear end about equipment.
So, I liked your article. I think it speaks to a very important issue in our art. BTW, many of my friends - and that number seems to reduce each year by attrition - are painters etc. I have never heard any of them talk about how much better a Windsor Newton brush is than a Grumbacher, or a da Vinci brush is. Ditto for canvases. I wish we could do the same, at least some of the time.
Photography is about expressing the beauty in your mind, sharing it with others while admiring their work and receiving ideas from them in return.
They don't call comparison a thief of joy for nothing! Once you fall into the trap of looking at everything through the lens of possible acceptance, you really start to choose "safer" options and compositions and become less adventurous in your art. That only leads to the constant feeling of dissatisfaction and, ironically, you can't put your finger on why are you even feeling that way. On the surface everything is just fine and you're taking photos that are good enough, yet something still feels very wrong.
My main goal with photography has always been pleasure, I just want to feel good about I'm doing. As a hobbyist I don't put too much pressure on myself, yet sometimes I look at other hobbyists' works and feel as if I'm falling behind, don't notice as many good photogaphic options or don't know of some editing tricks since I use Photoworks because of the simplicity, etc. Remembering that hobby isn't and shouldn't be a competition sometimes isn't that easy.
Comparing yourself to other photographers can be frustrating and disappointing. But it can also be an inspiration. How you frame the comparison is up to you. It's a choice. Instead of looking at other people's images and allowing the comparison to make you feel bad, consider looking at them and asking "How did they do that?" Instead of a win-loss, turn it into a win-win. Allow other people to encourage you, not discourage you. Try to be happy for them instead of sad for you. From that perspective, their work makes you feel thankful for having seen it, and you feel like you're learning and improving because of them providing an example. Comparing your work to others might inspire you to travel to a place you'd never been before. It might inspire you to try a new lighting style. It can motivate you to learn more post-processing techniques. Look at other people's images for what you can become as a photographer, not what you feel like you lack as a photographer. That's what dreams are made out of.
Catherine, the only work you should be comparing to is the past works of your own. Use others work for inspiration, motivation, enjoyment, illumination, etc.
It’s interesting seeing all the different comments come in on This topic which is great and while they all seem to be on the same page as such, there does seems to be some differences also, mainly when it comes to commercial work and also photo competitions. Interestingly also is the fact that people who make a living from photography differ in opinion from those who don’t, yet the passion that drives us in the first place is the common denominator more than anything! I’d be interested also in seeing who here has worn both hats and if the passion was gone would the output be the same? Thanks everyone
Darren J. Spoonley wrote:
"I’d be interested also in seeing who here has worn both hats and if the passion was gone would the output be the same?"
I think that most of us who shoot for money wear both hats, meaning that while we do derive some income from our photography, we also shoot because we love to shoot.
Personally, 100% of my shooting is done for personal enjoyment / fun / inner satisfaction. But even though this is what motivates me to shoot, after the shooting is over I then very much want and need to turn some of those photos into dollars. I am truly poor, like by any definition I am considered to be at poverty level. So I do actually need every dollar that I can get from my photos. If I could not get dollars from my photos, then I would not have the funds that I need to continue photographing wildlife.
I have a confession to make, and I think that what I am about to write is something that many others feel, but would never admit to. When I meet another wildlife photographer out in the marsh or the woods or on the mountain, and we chat and get to know each other and exchange information, I secretly hope that when I get home and look at his/her work on their website or Instagram, that it won't be as good as mine. When I do get home and look at their work, if it is not as good as mine is, then I feel this big relief, like I have confirmation that I am doing at least some things right when I am out there shooting. BUT, if I get online and see their work and it is better than mine, then I also feel good but in a different way ..... I feel honored to have become friends with someone whose work is so good.
I think that whether it is in photography or anything else in life, many of us deeply want to be better than any other human in the world. But we also accept that we aren't better, even though we want to be. So all of life is a competition in some ways, but we know that we can't allow that competitiveness within us to drive everything we do and all of our thoughts and all of our feelings or we would go mad and everyone would despise us as an egotistical jerk.
I wear both hats, and people come to me based on the work I do for myself. As much as possible I try to apply the same standards to both unless the job is strictly documentary. In the documentary cases the client will often request the RAW files as well, as in a job i did for construction progs on a hotel renovation. There will never be a time when the revenue stream will go beyond the initial payment, and you sign a document that you won't use them for anything other than for the client, so I make the exposures proof them and then send them to the client in two forms. A quick j-Peg and the corresponding RAW file. They pay well and on time so I go for it. So no passion on those at all. Everything else i do as a personal project, even if it's an assignment.
The issue (Photography is Not a Competition) is more psychological than situational. Yes, professionals have to deal with the realities of competition more than amateurs. Professionals are forced to deal with competition, but are often no better at coping with it. Many are deathly afraid of making a simple cold-call for fear of rejection. They translate that rejection into the idea that nobody likes them, or their work is no good. I mentioned the camera club because those sort of emotions were quite evident there too, even with a membership predominantly comprised of amateurs. People with no risk other than a mild embarrassment of having an image criticized would quit the club. Of course, human nature enjoys a compliment and seeks approval, but shouldn’t collapse from a little criticism either.
So at its root level, the psychology is the same for pros and amateurs. We either embrace comparisons along with their implied emotional responses, and gain inspiration; or we hide from competition and comparisons because of fear, anxiety, sadness, and frustration, and gain nothing. I can’t imagine a scenario of any kind where my passion for making photographs would disappear… and certainly not because of whether my work is for business or pleasure. Every time I pick up a camera, for whatever reason, is a joy and an adventure. I'm grateful for every single opportunity to take the lens cap off and make a picture.
Excellent write up
Glad you enjoyed it ! Thanks for your comment
FStoppers literally has a header option for their contests and says come compete. The Irony. But I agree photography is not a competition.
lol, You got me there :-) But entering a contest by choice is different, I feel. Thank for your comment
Contests such as those here in Fstoppers merely serve as an affirmation for people. Feel good about a better than average score; not so good about a low score. The consequences of losing are nothing more than a bruised ego. Contests rarely change a person's approach to style or type of images they make.
On the other hand, competition in the business sense causes every successful business person to reflect on what the customer wants. Disregard their opinions risks everything. Every day and every moment that we as a professional pick up a camera, we're faced with how our decisions impact the success of our business. And there's often a conflict of interest there. Competition exacerbates the problem. Who are we trying to serve by this work that I do... me or them?
I agree! We should only be competing with ourselves in reality but that can also be a challenge not often overcome ! It reminds me of Michael Jackson always wanting to do better than the biggest selling album of all time Thriller and never quite doing it ! We should celebrate all wins really
Photography most certainly is a competition if you're running a business to make a living.
I am in the peculiar position of having a studio business to run and making images for my own pleasure. One thing I try always to do is with my commercial work to find something in each session that I can photograph just for my own pleasure. Of course they get included in whatever it was that the client engaged my services for, especially when doing portrait work. It's an amazing thing how often the client chooses those instead of what they had in mind. Some sessions are just not amenable to that, but many are. In terms of competing with others in my area for work? Yes, there is that. But over time I have built a reputation based on the ones I do for myself. So yes, if you operate as a business you are always in competition. It is that competition however that sharpens our visual senses.
You raised some excellent points there! Not shooting for the gallery rings thru when it comes to our own creativeness