25 Years Behind the Camera-What Photography Has Taught Me About People
Table of Contents
A quarter of a century of assignments, lessons, successes, failures and unforgettable moments
When people ask me what photography has taught me over the past twenty-five years, they usually expect me to talk about cameras, lenses, lighting, composition or editing.
The truth is that photography has taught me far more about people than it has about cameras.
I’ve photographed orchestras, hotels, businesses, yachts, weddings, landscapes, historic buildings and commercial assignments across several countries.
I’ve photographed people at some of the happiest moments of their lives and, occasionally, some of the most stressful.
I’ve learnt that every assignment has its own challenges.
I’ve also learnt that success often depends upon understanding people rather than understanding equipment.
One particular experience taught me that lesson more clearly than any other.
Walking onto the Stage
Competition for the position of official photographer for the ADDA Simfònica orchestra is fierce.
The orchestra has received international recognition, and naturally many photographers would love the opportunity to work there.
Fortunately, I happened to be in the right place at the right time.
I had already worked with the World Orchestra, and when the ADDA Simfònica was formed, I found myself perfectly positioned to make the transition.
Nothing, however, was guaranteed.
I had to prove myself.
I had to establish a style.
Most importantly, I had to demonstrate that I could consistently deliver under pressure.
The SD Card Failure
Around that time, disaster struck.
Fortunately, I was eventually able to recover the photographs, but the delay in delivering the images created uncertainty and opportunity in equal measure.
As I’ve written elsewhere, something as small as an SD card can sometimes have enormous consequences.
While I was trying to recover the images, other photographers naturally stepped forward.
That’s the nature of the business.
Too Many Photographers, Not Enough Space
One particular rehearsal remains firmly fixed in my memory.
I walked onto the stage expecting to photograph the musicians at work.
Instead, I found several photographers moving around the orchestra, speaking with the management team and photographing the musicians from every possible angle.
Everyone appeared perfectly happy.
I wasn’t.
That may sound strange, but I have always believed that musicians perform best when they feel comfortable and can concentrate entirely on what they are doing.
Some of the poses I saw felt unnatural and awkward to me.
That was, of course, merely my opinion, but I began to question whether the environment was right for me.
Then came the concert itself.
As I moved around the auditorium looking for the best angles, I realised another photographer was following me and using exactly the same locations.
Eventually, some of my preferred positions became inaccessible.
At that moment, I made a decision.
I would walk away.
Knowing When to Leave
This wasn’t an act of anger or frustration.
Quite the opposite.
I’ve always believed that creativity flourishes in positive environments.
Once an atmosphere becomes overly competitive or uncomfortable, the work often suffers.
So I moved on to other assignments and focused my attention elsewhere.
Occasionally, I looked at the photographs being published on social media.
To be completely honest, I wasn’t especially impressed.
Whether that was a fair assessment or simply professional jealousy is difficult to say.
Perhaps it was a little of both.
An Unexpected Return
Several years later, I unexpectedly met some members of the team again.
During our conversation, the graphic designer asked whether I was still working as a freelance photographer.
Of course, I replied that I was.
Soon afterwards, I received an invitation to visit the office.
Then came the surprise.
I was offered the position of official photographer for the orchestra.
Naturally, I was curious about what had happened.
The answer was fascinating.
Over the years, the organisation had worked with numerous photographers, all of whom had strengths and weaknesses.
The problem was consistency.
Style varied from one assignment to another.
Delivery times differed considerably.
Reliability became increasingly important.
Photography Isn’t Finished When You Press the Shutter
People often imagine that the work ends when the concert finishes.
In reality, that’s when another part of the job begins.
Photographs must be downloaded, sorted, edited and delivered as quickly as possible.
The media team frequently requires images for press releases the following morning.
There have been occasions when I have barely reached my car before receiving requests for photographs.
My journey home takes approximately forty-five minutes.
A typical evening might look something like this:
- 10.00 pm – Concert finishes.
- 10.30 pm – Arrive home.
- 10.45 pm – Download photographs.
- 11.15 pm – Complete the editing process.
- 11.45 pm – Deliver the finished images.
On one particularly memorable occasion, I delivered approximately 400 photographs from a single concert.
Never Become Comfortable
Perhaps the greatest lesson photography has taught me is never to become complacent.
Every concert is different.
Every performance presents new opportunities.
Every assignment is another chance to improve.
Even now, I constantly look for new perspectives, improved editing techniques, better equipment and more reliable storage systems.
Ironically, one of the least expensive pieces of equipment I own—an SD card—has become one of the most important.
My Mantra
Every time I sit down in the auditorium, I remind myself of one simple truth:
I am one poor assignment away from being replaced.
That thought doesn’t frighten me.
It motivates me.
It reminds me not to take anything for granted.
I rarely relax until the photographs have been downloaded, edited, checked and delivered successfully.
Only then do I feel that the job is complete.
25 Years Behind the Camera-What Photography Has Taught Me About People
After twenty-five years behind the camera, I have learned that success has very little to do with equipment.
People remember reliability.
People remember consistency.
People remember kindness.
People remember professionalism.
People remember how you make them feel.
And perhaps the most important lesson of all is this:
Sometimes walking away from an opportunity is the very thing that allows you to return to it later.
