Where I’d Put All My Focus
If I were to pick up the camera again for the very first time, I would place my focus not on perfection, not on gear, and not on the endless technical how-tos, but on time. I would carve out gentle, uninterrupted time in my days or weeks to simply be with my camera, to wander and notice, to follow the flicker of curiosity or excitement wherever it might lead. I would let myself make the awful shots, take too many, miss the moment, and keep moving forward anyway. I would grant myself full permission to make mistakes, to experiment freely, and to create without questioning whether it was “good enough” or “right.”
I would approach photography like a conversation with myself, with the world, with light and shadow. I would allow myself to be drawn toward whatever I felt pulled to: stillness or motion, my mother’s flower garden, the full moon, people or petals, soft light or the starkness of noon. If I didn’t yet know what kind of photography called to me, I’d let myself try everything. I’d explore different genres without needing to commit, letting each one show me something about who I am and what I see. I don’t have children yet, but I’d imagine I’d want to let my child explore everything to let them discover what lights them up. And if I already knew what lights up my soul, say, the raw beauty of nature or the intimacy of portraits, I’d honor that fully and go all in.
Yes, I would learn the exposure triangle and take the time to understand the way ISO, shutter speed, and aperture work together, because those foundations are of the craft. But my deepest focus would be on making space. Space to play, space to explore. Space to rush out of bed in my nightgown to capture the sunrise. Space to grow slowly and not rush the process. I’d treat it like a practice, like tending a garden with love, care, and attention.
I wouldn’t worry about having the best lens or whether I was missing out by not having the newest, greatest camera. I appreciate that gear is important, but it isn’t the soul of the image. I wouldn’t let circumstances convince me I couldn’t begin or experiment. I’d work with what I had, where I was, and trust that the limits themselves could become part of what shaped my style. I’d focus on what I can do and what is available to me right now, whether it’s my humble garden in the backyard, my sister, the moon, or the weathered smile of my grandparents. Whatever exists in my world to photograph, I would focus on that, on the here and now, rather than getting caught up in wishing for something more distant or exotic. While I do believe without question that travel can expand us and deepen our perspective, I also believe that true growth begins with learning to see the beauty in what surrounds us every day. Until we can fully appreciate the ordinary moments and familiar places, how can we truly receive all that a faraway photography adventure has to offer? Wonder and curiosity begin where we are. Learning to observe and hone our photographic eye begins right where we are now.
If I were starting again, I would focus on this: give myself the time and space to observe, experiment, and play. To follow what sparks joy, to lose myself in the small wonders, and to explore with the heart of someone who is not trying to arrive anywhere, but who is simply in it for the joy of the journey and process. To photograph with almost a naive, gentle, open spirit, unburdened by the need to know everything or have the perfect gear, just led by curiosity, wonder, and the delight of discovery. By no means do I dismiss the value of learning the technical craft of photography, but I believe that passion, curiosity, excitement, and the ability to truly observe the world around you are just as important, if not more so. I’m not trying to convince you of anything, and maybe you entirely disagree, and that’s totally fine. Everyone sees things differently and has different lived experiences. Personally, if I could choose just one thing to focus on if I were starting again, it would be to give myself the grace, space, and time to fully immerse myself in the photography, even if it was just an hour a week. I’d follow wherever my curiosity behind the lens might lead, without rushing the process or needing to have a set destination. I’d focus on learning to observe my world, light, and translate that into my frame.
If this resonates or doesn’t, I’d love to know your thoughts and what your journey has been like for you.
