We¹ shall state the facts:

1. I’m a pretty decent photographer – not great, not where I want to be, but I can acknowledge my skill. 

2. I was not as good as I am currently when I started doing photography, around twenty years ago. 

Honing one’s craft is a never-ending pursuit, something that happens even without intent. Do something often and the neurons in the brain form pathways to facilitate the activity. Deep within me, I wish a more poetic approach to this existed which would allow me to form a more inspiring take on this, but alas. Them’s the breaks of being an exceedingly rational human being. 

So I’m getting better at things I often do, such as photography², and for the longest time I’ve certainly been happy to get lost in this journey and take it for its own reward. 

But lately, one question has been piercing the veil of my subconscious a bit too often for my taste, because I can’t quite figure out a fulfilling answer. The question being:

Now what? 

As noted, the temptation to exclaim platitudes in the vein of "the journey is its own reward" often bubbles to the surface, but it’s an inclination I try to suppress as much as possible as I abhor inspirational Instagram-cliches.

I’m not a professional photographer in the sense that I get paid. One solution for my issue is to elevate the hobby to a job. Many new issues sprout from this problem, monetary and artistic alike. For one, photography was never known to be a particularly lucrative profession and though I don’t need much to be happy, I would like to be able to feed and house myself and my family. Artistically, doing photography for pay means you have to take on assignments you might not particularly care about. That’s fine and certainly not criticism of other photographers, but knowing myself as I do, it would carry the risk of just completely flattening the craft to the point where it would impact my enjoyment to the point where it spoils the whole idea. 

Besides, I’m employed already and I do alright. I have the luxury of being able to do this for fun and not profit. 

So no, not going professional any time soon³.

What then?

Perhaps a clue hides in the satisfaction felt in the result that is the work itself. While maybe not particularly evident, there is a venomous critical streak inhabiting the back of my mind, inserting a lethal amount of "this is not good enough" just so. And yet, in recent years, as I’ve learned to grow milder, I’ve found an appreciation for my own work in retrospect. 

Unthinkable a decade ago, at this point a scroll through my back catalogue or Instagram profile fills me with a sense of pride, the fulfilment of a promise I made myself two decades ago. A slow progress, but progress regardless, both of the craft and the mental state I’m in. 

So then, the gain in my particular case is not the work by itself per se. Instead, it’s the respect I’ve gained for myself, my work and my craft. I hope this is true for you and your work as well. Love thyself. Eventually. 

¹You are now implicated. 

²"Better" in the context of art, of course, is a debatable word, but let’s focus on the technical aspects, or the way in which I’m adequate to put an image in my head into a photographic object. 

³Knock on wood.