There’s something strange about being a photographer in the digital age. We take thousands of photos, spend hours editing them, post a few online, maybe archive the rest onto hard drives… and somehow convince ourselves that’s enough. I have been doing that for a couple of years now.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve looked at a photo I should love… and I just didn’t.

You probably know the type of photo I’m talking about. Everything looks fine on paper—the exposure is good, the focus is sharp, and nothing seems out of place. But somehow, the image just sits there. It doesn’t pull you in or make you want to look twice.

It’s always exciting when editing software gets new features. Sliders give us more control, buttons offer shortcuts, and suddenly, tasks that once took ages or seemed impossible are now just a click away. Lightroom has really embraced this lately, especially with tools that remove things like dust, people, reflections, and other distractions.

With social media always within reach, scrolling through feeds became part of my daily routine. For years, I kept refreshing timelines, watching bits of other people’s lives, and comparing myself to them. Over time, I noticed these habits were taking up my time and energy, and even eroding my sense of who I was. That’s when I chose to stop scrolling and find joy in non-electronic hobbies again.

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.