10 mart. Longing for Simplicity and the Burden of Today’s Photographer
Recently, I uploaded a few photographs on social media and realized something: I miss the days when I had just one camera and one lens.
I was browsing through my archives, folders filled with older images, and suddenly a wave of nostalgia hit me. Not only for the awarded or published photographs, but for all those moments when I took them.
I remember the places.
The silence.
The way the light fell on seemingly insignificant details.
And, most of all, I remember the simplicity of the gear.
One camera.
One lens.
Nothing more.
When Photography Was Simple
This year I haven’t had a vacation.
Maybe that’s why I felt this odd need to reward myself, to give myself a small joy to make up for the lack of escape.
I know it’s not the healthiest mechanism, but we all have shortcuts like that.
Mine was to go back to old photographs and let nostalgia surround me.
And inevitably, to compare who I was then with who I am today.
When I was a beginner, absolutely no one expected me to take good photos.
Nobody cared if a horizon was slightly tilted.
Nobody noticed if an image was slightly underexposed.
It was complete freedom.
Photography was for me, and only for me.
It was curiosity.
Discovery.
The innocence of the beginning.
And the simplicity of the gear was liberating.
I wasn’t choosing between dozens of lenses.
I wasn’t thinking about how the photo would look on Instagram.
I wasn’t wondering what reactions it might get.
It was just the moment and the camera.
The Pressure of Being a Photographer Today
Today things are much more complicated.
In the meantime, I have published photo books, written articles, held workshops, and taken part in international competitions.
And with every step forward came another layer of pressure.
Nowadays, one good photograph is no longer enough.
What counts is diversity.
A strong portfolio.
New ideas. New places. New angles.
Social media amplifies this pressure.
There is no patience for exploration.
There is only the constant hunt for the next “wow” moment.
When Photography Becomes Performance
The painful truth is that many who consume photography have no idea what each image means to the one who created it.
On a portfolio website you select only your strongest photographs.
But platforms like Instagram or YouTube should also allow space for something else.
For images that matter to you.
Even if they are imperfect.
Even if they are not “instagrammable.”
Unfortunately, the online world rarely wants that.
What it wants is the spectacle.
The final result.
Rarely does anyone ask:
Why did you take this photograph? What drew you to that moment? What did you feel there?
Instead, the questions are almost always technical.
Which camera did you use? Which lens? Which preset?
Even in brand-dedicated groups it feels almost mandatory to mention the gear and the editing choices.
But rarely the reason behind the photograph.
Nobody asks about the why.
The Difference Between Critique and Noise
Then comes the criticism.
I know very well what it means to bring your portfolio for evaluation or to pay for a professional review.
In those contexts, you enter consciously.
You accept vulnerability.
You understand that feedback, even if harsh, can help you grow.
But on the internet criticism is rarely critique.
More often it’s simply someone telling you:
Crop the sky. Darken the shadows. Edit it differently.
Comments that don’t attempt to understand your intention but simply try to rewrite the photograph in their own way.
Nobody can step into your shoes at the moment you raised the camera and pressed the shutter.
Nobody can know why you left the composition airy.
Or why you turned a scene into black and white.
And the most ironic part is that in most cases those who criticize like this are not great photographers themselves.
In 99.99% of cases they are people without a real portfolio.
Without consistency.
Without long-term work.
A serious photographer rarely spends time online searching for images just to tear them apart.
They understand how much work, thought and emotion can exist behind a single frame.
And if they do give feedback, they do it with respect.
The Temptation to Go Back to One Camera
Many times I think about downsizing.
About returning to one camera and one lens.
About leaving projects aside and photographing again just for myself.
And maybe one day I will.
But the truth is that for me photography has never been only about photography.
I have a day job.
I don’t live from this.
Every time I published something, the foundation was not only the images but also the words that accompanied them.
My articles have never been about megapixels.
Or ISO.
Or autofocus systems.
They have always been about vision.
About clarity.
About real life.
Writing has always been a form of therapy for me.
A way to express myself.
And perhaps also a way to give something back.
Proving That Photography Can Be Done Differently
Maybe that is why I have been stubborn for so many years.
I wanted to prove that photography can be done differently.
I never chased the newest cameras.
The most expensive lenses.
Or the latest gadgets.
I wanted to show that it is possible to build a strong portfolio, publish work and even win awards using modest equipment.
Of course, sometimes I think about what it would be like to own a Nikon Z6III.
Or a Z8.
Or maybe even a Leica.
I wouldn’t be honest if I said I didn’t want them.
But every time, an inner voice reminds me to slow down.
Because those expensive cameras would bring more speed.
More precision.
But not necessarily more meaning.
Why I Started Photography
When I first started photography, the reason was very simple.
I wanted to document my travels.
Those early photos were the kind of images you look at years later with a wide smile and think: “Wow, I’ve been here.”
I didn’t start photography to empty my pockets on cameras, filters and tripods.
And I feel that no matter how much I publish or how many awards might come in the future, at heart I will always remain that same amazed traveler.
A camera hanging from my neck.
Standing in front of a new destination.
Smiling widely.
Final Thoughts
Maybe that is the lesson I keep repeating to myself.
And perhaps indirectly to others who feel the same pressure.
Photography is not about gear.
It is not about social media validation.
It is not about random criticism from strangers.
Photography is about memory.
About intention.
About the moment when you raise the camera to your eye and say with gratitude:
“Wow… I’ve been here.”
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