EP173 - An Amateur Photographer (I Just Earn My Living This Way)

An Amateur Photographer (I Just Earn My Living This Way)

It's 5am. The birds woke me, the sun was already up, and I couldn't get back to sleep — so this one's recorded on a laptop in the lounge with a cup of tea that went stone cold while I was talking. There's also some big news: after twenty years and two Defenders, the Land Rover has gone. We've leant firmly into the future with a very quiet, very electric VW ID.Buzz Cargo. Some call it a van. I call it a lifestyle choice — cheaper per mile, exempt from Oxford's congestion charge, fits in a normal car park, and my feet stay dry in the rain.

Which turns out to be the whole point of this episode. Stand near a group of photographers for five minutes and you'll hear two things: the (humble) brag, and the war story — the blown sync, the client from hell, the lens that died mid-wedding. We are, as a tribe, absolutely magnificent at misery. And yet we do a job we genuinely love. So why does it never sound like it?

This one's about negativity bias — the ancient wiring that has us scanning for the tiger and ignoring the sunshine — and why photographers have it worse than most. We're professionally trained to find fault: judging teaches you to spot the one soft eye, retouching is hours of hunting flaws, self-critique is how we improve. The very skill that makes us good is the skill that makes us miserable when we turn it on ourselves.

A few things I'm going to try — and you might too:

End every shoot by naming three good frames before you're allowed to mention what went wrong

Retell your war stories as the win stories they usually are

Drop the fake "so humbled" and just be honestly proud

Keep a note of the day's good things

Celebrate someone else's work, out loud

Ask your clients what they loved

Because we chose this. Nobody makes you a portrait photographer — it's a tough, precarious, extraordinary way to spend a life, making people look at themselves and feel better. The war stories aren't the truth of the job; they're just the loudest bit. The critical eye that makes you a great photographer isn't going anywhere — just don't let it edit the whole of your life.