What is it that we actually love about photography?

The photograph might be the smallest part

There’s a question really worth asking.

It can unlock a lot, especially if the images you’re making don’t quite match what you see in your head.

When you think about photography as a whole, which part do you actually love most?

The camera itself?
The act of making photographs?
Or the experiences photography opens up around the image?

For some people, the answer is clear. They love the camera. The tactile pleasure. The way it feels in their hands. The ritual of interacting with a beautifully made object. And if that’s what photography is primarily about for you, my way of thinking probably won’t resonate. That’s completely fine.

The camera itself has never been the point for me.

Of course, it’s wonderful to use a well-built camera that feels just right. But the premise itself is awkward when you think about it. It’s a box we’ve collectively agreed is the correct way to capture images. Something you raise to your face, or hold in front of you. You place a physical barrier between yourself and the world you’re trying to engage with.

Necessary (at least for now)? Yes.
Inherent to what photography is at its core? No.

The same goes for the more traditional process.

For some people, the film world is where photography truly lives. It’s romantic. Ritualistic. Slower. I understand the appeal. But for me, those traditional processes don’t hold much romance. Sitting alone in the dark under a red light, breathing chemicals, waiting for something to appear feels heavy, even a little depressing. It’s just not where my curiosity lives.

If I imagine the most frictionless version of photography, something tiny and unintrusive like a GoPro or even smaller, that still gives me exactly the visual result I want, I’d probably choose that. Not because I have anything against cameras, but because the less the camera demands my attention, the more I can give to the moment unfolding in front of me.

Ideally, I wouldn’t think about the camera at all.

Photography, for me, has always been about something else.

About being there.
About attention.
About presence.

Sometimes it honestly feels like the picture-making itself barely matters. Being fully immersed in the experience feels like the point.

And then I’m reminded why photography does still matter to me.

Because every now and then, something rare begins to form, and the hunt takes over.

Powerful photographs don’t appear on demand. No matter how experienced you are, you’re only occasionally graced with something truly special. When you sense that a moment has potential, there’s this quiet tension in the air. The feeling that this unrepeatable moment carries something rare and special.

The possibility that this fleeting and fragile moment might endure is what keeps me in love with photography.

Not the gear.
Not the ritual.
Not the tactile experience.

This way of seeing didn’t come from nowhere.

I’m primarily a travel and documentary photographer, and this kind of photography has allowed me to satisfy a deep, almost insatiable curiosity about the world.

It’s taken me diving with Filipino spearfishermen, standing in the middle of a camel race in Mauritania, coughing and crying from sulfur smoke alongside miners in Kawah Ijen, Indonesia.

On another level, it’s taken me into homes. Into private, sometimes tender moments.

And this brings me to people, who are a huge part of this entire journey for me.

The conversations.
The stories.
The brief access into lives and worlds I would never have seen otherwise.

Over time, photography has trained me to notice faces. A flicker of expression. The way a grandmother’s eyes change as she looks at her grandchild. The micro-moments where something genuine surfaces. That sensitivity has shaped not only how I photograph people, but how I see them.

I’ve built real friendships through photography too. And I value that more than almost anything else photography has given me.

So I’m curious.

What about you?

Is photography, for you, mostly about the camera, the feel of it, the object itself?
Is it about the process, the act of making photographs, the thrill of creating something, the uncertainty, the moments you almost missed?
Or is it about the experiences, the interaction, the people?

It’s quite possible that for you it’s a mix of all of these, with some parts pulling stronger than others.

There’s nothing necessarily wrong with any of those answers.

What matters is being honest with yourself about which pull you follow most often.

Because if the images you’re making don’t quite match what you see in your head, or if photography itself feels less satisfying than it should, the misalignment might run deeper.

Maybe you’ve been giving too much attention to the camera when what you actually wanted was connection. Or absorbed in process when what drew you in was simply being there. Sometimes we follow the wrong pull without realizing it, and forget what we were actually after in the first place.

I'm interested in exploring these kinds of questions—about photography and what drives us to make images. I'd like to start a Skool group where we can go deeper. A place to talk about this kind of stuff and help each other grow, not only through practical, technical lessons, but through the ones that touch on the deeper parts of photography and the creative process. If you're interested, drop a comment or send me an email.