Finding growth in unfamiliar photographs
I’ve noticed that the photos I spend the most time looking at usually aren’t the ones I would take myself.
That’s not by accident. I do it on purpose. I don’t look at other people’s work to confirm my own taste or to compete. I’m looking for something that pushes me, for moments when I’m not sure what to do next.
The first thing that pulls me in is the subject matter I actively avoid in my own work. If I don’t photograph it, I want to see how someone else does. Sports, harsh midday light, crowded streets, staged portraits, overly busy scenes—anything that sits outside my comfort zone instantly feels useful. It refreshes my visual palette. It reminds me that photography is bigger than my habits. When I spend too much time in my own genre, my work starts to echo. Other people’s choices break that loop. Even if I never adopt the subject directly, there’s always something transferable: timing, restraint, confidence, or the way they simplify chaos.
Framing is another thing I notice. I’m drawn to photos that feel a bit off. Maybe the frame cuts too close, leaves too much space, or ignores the usual compositional approach. Sometimes the angle feels strange at first, but then you see it was done on purpose. I like it when a photographer fully commits to a perspective most people would give up on. It shows they trusted their own eyes instead of following the rules. These images don’t make sense right away, and that’s what makes you look at them longer.
Colour is something I keep coming back to. I’m not interested in trendy colours or obvious presets, but in surprising combinations of tones. I like muted palettes that still feel alive, or colours that shouldn’t work together but somehow do. Sometimes the colour is bold, sometimes it’s subtle. What matters is the intention behind it. When I see colour that feels personal, I pay close attention—not to copy it, but to understand what feeling it creates. Colour affects how we feel about an image before we even understand it.
I’m not looking for perfection. Clean images don’t impress me, and neither do loud ones. I’m not drawn to photos that show off technique. I care more about photos that show how someone sees the world. I like the ones where you can sense hesitation, curiosity, or risk—the ones that feel chosen, not just perfected.
For me, looking at other people’s photos isn’t about getting inspired in the usual sense. It’s about resetting my perspective. It reminds me that there are endless ways to see, frame, and experience the same world. Stepping outside my own habits helps me return to them with a fresh outlook.
If I leave feeling a bit unsettled, a bit jealous, or quietly challenged, I know I’ve found something worth paying attention to. When you find yourself lingering over a photograph that feels foreign or uncomfortable, pay attention. That discomfort is an invitation—a reminder that growth lives just outside the familiar. Maybe you’ll bring something back. Maybe you’ll see things differently for a while. Either way, that’s the real reward of looking beyond your own lens.
