Creativity is a conundrum for me. On the one hand, I have this point of view, which drives me to create the things I desire to see brought into this world. For example, I love hacking together cameras made from parts of other cameras. The photos I get from them are strange, mostly soft, and have a lot of distortion. I look at them and think they’re great. But place it beside a sharp, bright photo, and there’s a noticeable difference. If a person has no backstory on how the image was made, my insecurity tells me that they’ll think it’s just a dang bad picture.
In the book An Audience of One: Reclaiming Creativity for Its Own Sake by Srinivas Rao, he explains that having a satisfying, creative life means staying true to your voice and not seeking external validation. Why? Because seeking validation from others, financial reward, or critical reviews are extrinsic motivators that will eventually lead to misery, as you have no control over those. When you’re in it for how satisfying the creative endeavor is, the process is the reward, and you’re doing what you enjoy.
I bought my first pro-level camera in 1997 and always had it with me. I was creative and happy, and I had weird, beautiful photos on walls scattered all over my home. In 2010, I made the leap and became a professional photographer. Weddings, senior and family portraits, and events became the focus of my camera’s lens. It was brutal, and I hated it. The images were fine by any measurable metric, and it kept food on the table and a roof over my head. I couldn’t find my creative muse with this style of photography, and it led me to put the camera down for years. My creativity was wrecked.
A new wave of cameras began rolling out a few years back, riffing off old film cameras. They caught my attention. I bought a Fuji x100 and a Ricoh GR and started shooting again. My creativity, now watered by this new work, grew and thrived.
It was when I was creating for myself that I found joy. I signed up for Flickr again and started finding my people and my fans. I trusted my voice, threw away comparisons, and stopped creating for the hypothetical “others.”
The funny thing is that when I’m creative in this field, I find myself more creative at work, at home, and, more broadly, in life. My advice? Get out there and do what you love doing, not for likes or clicks, but because it’s molding you into a more joyful person.