This is a topic that I've pondered many times and as a retiree in his 60s, it's something which feels more relevant to me now than it was 5 or 10 years ago. I think there are several elements at work here. Firstly, digital photography allows, maybe even encourages, us to take more photographs than we need to take. That results in spending a lot more time reviewing and processing those photos and, maybe, reduces our enthusiasm to do so. That contradicts the "Winogrand Syndrome", I know, but, for some, the act of "creating" ends immediately after pressing the shutter release.
Like yourself, there have been occasions where I've downloaded the photographs I've taken but haven't the energy or inclination to look at them. Prior experience in this scenario has taught me that I know I will remember the moments when I took the photos and that I will, inevitably, dislike a percentage of them. Nowadays, I often wait until (at least) the next day before downloading to my hard drive and, often, a further day before I review them for culling, prior to importing into Capture One.
Then, we need to consider who we are shooting for. I have never been a professional photographer (e.g. I am not paid for photographic work) so the ONLY person who needs to be happy with my photographs is me. Likes and follows on social media are, in my opinion, mostly irrelevant. Receiving approbation for peers is nice to receive but if our intention is to "improve" then positive critique from photographers who we accept are better than we are is much more useful. I deleted my Instagram account, mostly because I detest Meta but also because there is way too much reciprocal like and follow activity. Utterly meaningless, IMO.
So, where does this leave us? I have my own website - largely neglected due to social media activity, but about to get a major refresh. It's just a vanity project and receives little traffic. No matter. Who am I trying to impress? No-one, that's who. I know that's unlikely to be a popular approach but, as passionate about photography as I am (and have been for 51 years), I'm not seeking or expecting any awards or prizes and if only I ever see my photos when I can be bothered to look at them, that's fine.
Hello Paul. Thanks for taking the time to share this. I can relate to much of what you’ve said, especially about how digital photography almost encourages us to shoot far more than we’ll ever process. That’s one reason I’ve become more deliberate with my shooting. Even when I can, I’ll sometimes choose not to press the shutter if I’m unsure why I’m pointing the camera in a certain direction. I think you’re right that, for some, the creative act ends with the click — and there’s something honest in that.
I like your practice of delaying the review. I’ve been doing that as well, though I think of it as letting the images “incubate” a bit. It gives them room to breathe before I face them, and it also creates some distance from the expectations I had at the moment. It’s a gentler approach, one rooted in patience.
I also respect your stance on shooting entirely for yourself. There’s freedom in that which I find enviable. For me, though, there’s still a quiet pull to let at least some of the work live outside my hard drive — not for likes or validation, but because certain images seem to want a life beyond me.
That’s where Pessoa’s “it exists” keeps echoing for me. Maybe it’s less about impressing anyone, and more about letting the work simply be in the world. Something shifted for me around the middle of last year: I started posting far less on Instagram and Threads. I realized the world won’t miss my work — especially the way photography is consumed these days, with people scrolling past images in seconds. I don’t feel the need to add to all that noise. Ironically, this has nourished my desire to shoot freely, without concern for validation. Not feeling the need to immediately review and post has reminded me that I’d photograph even if social media didn’t exist — taking me back to my roots in the 1980s, when I first picked up a camera and kept a journal on a typewriter.
Hi Luis.
This is a topic that I've pondered many times and as a retiree in his 60s, it's something which feels more relevant to me now than it was 5 or 10 years ago. I think there are several elements at work here. Firstly, digital photography allows, maybe even encourages, us to take more photographs than we need to take. That results in spending a lot more time reviewing and processing those photos and, maybe, reduces our enthusiasm to do so. That contradicts the "Winogrand Syndrome", I know, but, for some, the act of "creating" ends immediately after pressing the shutter release.
Like yourself, there have been occasions where I've downloaded the photographs I've taken but haven't the energy or inclination to look at them. Prior experience in this scenario has taught me that I know I will remember the moments when I took the photos and that I will, inevitably, dislike a percentage of them. Nowadays, I often wait until (at least) the next day before downloading to my hard drive and, often, a further day before I review them for culling, prior to importing into Capture One.
Then, we need to consider who we are shooting for. I have never been a professional photographer (e.g. I am not paid for photographic work) so the ONLY person who needs to be happy with my photographs is me. Likes and follows on social media are, in my opinion, mostly irrelevant. Receiving approbation for peers is nice to receive but if our intention is to "improve" then positive critique from photographers who we accept are better than we are is much more useful. I deleted my Instagram account, mostly because I detest Meta but also because there is way too much reciprocal like and follow activity. Utterly meaningless, IMO.
So, where does this leave us? I have my own website - largely neglected due to social media activity, but about to get a major refresh. It's just a vanity project and receives little traffic. No matter. Who am I trying to impress? No-one, that's who. I know that's unlikely to be a popular approach but, as passionate about photography as I am (and have been for 51 years), I'm not seeking or expecting any awards or prizes and if only I ever see my photos when I can be bothered to look at them, that's fine.
Hello Paul. Thanks for taking the time to share this. I can relate to much of what you’ve said, especially about how digital photography almost encourages us to shoot far more than we’ll ever process. That’s one reason I’ve become more deliberate with my shooting. Even when I can, I’ll sometimes choose not to press the shutter if I’m unsure why I’m pointing the camera in a certain direction. I think you’re right that, for some, the creative act ends with the click — and there’s something honest in that.
I like your practice of delaying the review. I’ve been doing that as well, though I think of it as letting the images “incubate” a bit. It gives them room to breathe before I face them, and it also creates some distance from the expectations I had at the moment. It’s a gentler approach, one rooted in patience.
I also respect your stance on shooting entirely for yourself. There’s freedom in that which I find enviable. For me, though, there’s still a quiet pull to let at least some of the work live outside my hard drive — not for likes or validation, but because certain images seem to want a life beyond me.
That’s where Pessoa’s “it exists” keeps echoing for me. Maybe it’s less about impressing anyone, and more about letting the work simply be in the world. Something shifted for me around the middle of last year: I started posting far less on Instagram and Threads. I realized the world won’t miss my work — especially the way photography is consumed these days, with people scrolling past images in seconds. I don’t feel the need to add to all that noise. Ironically, this has nourished my desire to shoot freely, without concern for validation. Not feeling the need to immediately review and post has reminded me that I’d photograph even if social media didn’t exist — taking me back to my roots in the 1980s, when I first picked up a camera and kept a journal on a typewriter.