2022 - Year in Review.
For those of you who are returning after reading last year’s review, thank you. This story won’t start nearly as somber, nor will it have as much of an arc to it. But, it will have quite a bit more of “me” written into it (even if professionalism would advise against it) because I don’t know any other way to say this..
What a fucking year, in so many good ways.
The Story
This year didn’t start by pacing around a vacant downtown begging it to show me something worth photographing to take my mind off of the holidays. Rather, I spent midnight on New Years with a film camera in my hand walking down Mill Avenue in Tempe, Arizona trying to squeeze as much out of Cinestill 800t as possible, with other photo nerds who were wanting to do the same. It poured rain on us and I didn’t come home with much worth showing, but after how 2021 ended I was riding a wave of photo-enthusiasm so high that it didn’t matter.
That enthusiasm set a precedent for what this year was about to bring. I took the “Yes Man” approach to photography, and in hindsight; I’m proud of myself.
My niece was born on Christmas day, and after giving her a few days to color in, this shoot became the most poetic way to start my year. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not very good with kids, especially newborns, and maybe this next point is a byproduct of that. This shoot was centered around the little one, and most of the images reflect that, but I found that I was drawn more toward how my sister and brother in law were interacting with her, and interacting with each other as new parents.
That isn’t a trait I’ve ever consciously thought I possessed, nor is it one I ever previously put effort towards growing. But it was centric to where I spent my efforts, and it’s where I believe I found the majority of my growth this year. We’re going to put a pin in that thought for now, and I’ll expand on that when we get to the wedding portion of this review, as that’s where most of my lightbulb moments came from.
There really isn’t a way to say any of this without some of the corny cliché artist lingo included, so forgive me in advance:
Before I move forward with explaining some personal growth, I think it’s only appropriate to look back to include some context. Those closest to me will attest to how difficult my 4 previous years before 2022 were. In last year’s story I mentioned “tapping on my camera and asking it for some serotonin,” and while that’s still partially true, I’d like to update it to “grabbing a camera with both hands and holding on for the ride.”
Leading up to this year I bounced around through more than a few living situations, in more than a couple states. I burned more than a handful of wicks at both ends trying to figure out what my next step was. I boiled so much of my life down and poured it all back into photography, and I’m just now starting to feel the difference.
I mentioned “holding on,” because this “Yes Man” approach has pulled me toward some amazing situations, and has introduced me to some incredible humans. The character building years I referenced above are relevant to these photo interactions because I can’t quite figure out which is the chicken and which is the egg. All I know is they feel connected, so I may as well talk about them together.
So much of portraits, candids, just photographing humans in general, is based off of confidence. The subject being confident in themselves, confident in your ability to photograph them, and your own confidence to help facilitate the first two.
The reality is, when I finally decided to jump two feet into this, the only thing I was confident in was my photo abilities. I was so far removed from my own “normal” that I wasn’t even sure which way was up- and yet I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to improve myself, built on the foundation of the one thing I was passionate about.
I was having a conversation with my best friend about what it looks like to take photos as a profession, and he brought up an old concern I had. “You were always worried monetizing it would make you hate it.” He’s right, and for years I dug my heels in to try and not lose the enjoyment it brings me. I was so worried that getting out of my comfort zone and taking direction from others would change photography in general for me. My preconceived notion was close, but it was backwards. I wasn’t aware how much it would change me for photography. Without knowing it before hand, that’s exactly what I needed.
That being said, I wouldn’t be telling the whole truth if I didn’t admit that mostly shooting for work took some of the enthusiasm-edge off. What I hadn’t previously considered is just how much more there is to photography than digital Canon bodies and prime lenses, and how much I would enjoy it. Which leads me to the next portion of growth.
I fell into quite a deep niche-level-nerd hole this year with film. I’ll save you all from any of the hipster lingo that seems go along with film now’a days, but there’s been something about the entire film shooting process that I’ve found therapeutic. None of it felt as time consuming as it was, and I kept craving more. So I pieced together a little setup to develop film in the bathroom, and have been working out an at-home scanning process that I’m happy with.
Before Gen-Z took to loving the “tones and vibes” you see associated with film, I used to hear all about how shooting film would force the shooter to slow down and be a bit more methodical with the process. In terms of composition and focus, this is true, but the part I’ve found to be most beneficial is a bit deeper than that.
When refining your own style with digital photography, you simply shoot a bunch and learn to edit each of the lighting scenarios you end up shooting the most frequent. After a while your bag of tools begins to align with your own habits, and your end style becomes a byproduct of that. I’ve found film to be the opposite when you really start to dig into it. There are baseline characteristics chemically built into each differing film stock, and then there are variables in how you expose, develop, scan, etc. I could go into far greater detail, but I think I’ll hold onto that for it’s own blog post. The point I’m trying to make is practicing with film has had me thinking a few steps ahead of actually taking the photo, and trying to be a bit more intentional with my final look before even snapping the image. This became applicable in all of my digital work as well.
As nostalgic and magical as film can be, you’re still at the discretion of at least 20+ year old equipment. So alongside all of the temperamental problems of trying to be in control of the entire film process, I also had the shutter die on two different film cameras, and the light seals go bad on two others.
To round out my point of still enjoying the for-fun side of cameras, film was great, but digital is still able to pull its own weight. Street photo, places and things, and just general snapshots were still a significant part of my year, and to my surprise became even more enjoyable. Though, I will make the promise to myself now to shoot more “just because” pictures next year. (If you’re reading this, feel free to hold me to it.)
Now is a good time to circle back to the bit about being drawn to how humans interact, and how I spent some mental resource on refining that. If you scroll back through this story, you’ll notice every portrait of a person has the same thing in common: none of the photos have anything to do with me at all. Every single interaction, the studio shots of the dancers included, were going to happen regardless of if I was present or not.
I’ve always held this understanding that there were a couple approaches to photography. You can be observant, or you can be intrusive. For the longest time, I fit myself into the more observant category. I, intentionally, tried to be as hands-off of a situation as I could, because as great as poses and intentional photos are, I thought capturing things as they were had a special degree of authenticity to them that wasn’t otherwise possible.
That was a mindset I held onto, until I found myself trying to improve who I was as a person, in parallel with who I was as a photographer. And weddings, weddings have been incredible for both.
I could write an entire rant about how weddings require a deep understanding of different facets of photography, but a good chunk of that is already written out on my wedding page. As seen above, weddings are obviously filled with smaller details that require attention, but for the sake of this story we’re going to focus on the human element, human interactions, and what some confidence can create.
First and foremost, it started with dropping my own ego. Leaving any narrative about how I assumed days were going to go at home, and just being present. Which is great for the observant end of this, but I learned there’s a lot of improvement to be found by taking up a little bit of space; so long as I kept the mindset that nothing I was capturing was about me as the photographer.
At this point I think it’s safe for me to claim, without coming across as arrogant, that actually operating the camera is mindless and second nature. Like any talent or tool there are diminishing returns the more experienced you get, which lead me to looking elsewhere for improvement.
I keep orbiting around this epiphany I had this year that has me talking so much about taking up space, or confidence in the process, or being more intrusive. I’ll be corny and reluctantly spit it out: portraits are just a reflection of how the person taking the photo made the situation feel. Once I figured out that the vast majority of this job is about being a person, I started to produce work I was proud of.
I found more growth in my photography by working on things that had nothing to do with a camera, lens, editing, lighting, settings, or a computer, than I ever previously thought possible.
It’s okay to feed off of other’s excitement, or to show your own nerd’isms about something. It’s okay to compliment, or to slow down and explain the process to help others understand. It’s a simple concept that I’m almost embarrassed took me so long to learn; the more human element you put into it, the more you get out.
When I reflect on these pictures, I see people I began interacting with hours before these moments happened. I see the little jokes, or stories they were willing to share about themselves, the things we figured out we had in common, or the little kid I let use my camera when we first met so they wouldn’t be shy to it later. I can’t help but notice the more I was willing to be unapologetically myself, the more they were in return, and it enabled situations where I was able to be intrusive enough to get the shots, but not so intrusive that the authenticity was diluted.
I won’t claim this is the perfect end all be all, nor am I trying to say this is the only way to go about this. But I will claim that this approach has had a dramatically positive impact on my final images, and equally as importantly has lead to some wonderful conversations and interactions.
I keep drawing connections to the back to the bigger picture of my overall life. It could be that this is my first full year in my 30’s, and I myself am becoming more comfortable with who and what I am as a person, or it could be that my photography is driving me closer to where I feel like I belong. Like I said, I’m not sure which is the chicken and which is the egg.
I received a few endearingly sarcastic reviews in recent months that have stuck with me. The first of them was my mom claiming that “my camera is my girlfriend,” because apparently I take it out on dates. Second was a videogame friend saying I “live vicariously through the successful stories of others.” And the last was a fellow photographer I was second shooting for who told a bride I was “unmarried, with a singular vision to be the best photographer I’m capable of- and we all get to reap the benefits of that drive.”
As easy as it would’ve been to take offense to any of those, I’m proud they’re all true. I would implore anyone to pick up a camera just for the sake of picking one up. Go on dates with it. It will give you an excuse to go and do/try/see/explore/learn just about anything. Go live vicariously through the success of others. It’s humbling, empathetic, and inspiring. I wish I could share the feeling of receiving a hand written thank you card for creating something so special and cherished by someone. As far as trying to be the best version I’m capable of goes, that has been my favorite part of photography as a whole. It is a never-ending learning process, and I hope everyone can find something in life to perpetually work on.
As I look back at the last 12 months, I can’t help but feel extremely fortunate. Fortunate to have found and stuck with photography. Fortunate to have worked with other inspiring creatives. Fortunate to have had so much life shared with me.
My goals for next year are to sort out a better system for all of the admin work that comes along with this. My enthusiasm for all of this ends the moment paperwork is involved- and that’s a me problem. To make a bit more time for the “just because” photos. And to double down on this more personal approach, because it feels like that’s the correct direction.
Thirteen years, guys. Thirteen. Thirteen years I’ve been at this. I don’t think I’ve ever had a year where I’ve felt so fulfilled from my work. I also don’t think I’ve ever been so proud of it. My love for photography has me telling myself “there’s still so much I want to learn,” but my heart is telling me “Damn, look at everything you just pulled off. Be proud.”
As always, if you made it this far into one of my rants, I greatly appreciate you. Thank you for giving enough of a shit about me and my obsession to lend me your time. At the end of the day, this will always be personal for me. If we’ve ever connected through my camera, I hope you know you played a part in all of the growth I talked about in this.
At this point I’m still loving photographing whatever comes my way. If you, or someone you know, could use my services, please don’t hesitate to reach out.
Thank you all.