Why does ‘their stuff’ do better than mine?
A tale of photography, pride, petulance and perspective...
Avid reader (not a typo) of my website, or one of the people who follows me on Instagram, will no doubt think I’m a pretty laid-back, easy-going guy (pets love me) who shares endless photos of misty trees, with little to no expectation of fame or success. If they don’t, they should, as that’s the image I’ve been trying to portray over the five years since I started this mid-life crisis of photography. I even state as much on my homepage.
However, despite my best efforts and instincts, occasionally (and it really is only occasionally), I find myself wondering why a particular photo hasn’t got the attention I’d hoped for, why that image got shortlisted in a competition, or, even worse, why ‘their stuff’ is doing better than mine.
This is obviously a fairly rubbish mindset to get into, and one I can usually move on from pretty quickly. But I don’t think it’s uncommon, and I suspect it affects most of us in some way from time to time.
A recent example is this image, which I excitedly claimed at the time of capture could be the best photo I’d ever taken. With a bit of perspective, that statement probably deserves a big fat ‘so what?’. I take so many photos that such a claim is pretty meaningless, and it’s only a matter of time before I think the same about another one.
But perhaps what I really meant was, ‘I really like this, and I hope it gets loads of likes on Instagram’. Because that, I suspect, is where the negative mindset kicked in.
Which is mad, really. Instagram passed its expiry date as any kind of meaningful quality gauge some time ago, if ever it was thus. Any post is at the mercy of an algorithm, the whims of an audience, and whether the bots happen to be on their coffee break when you hit publish.
With a little more thought, I’ve realised that my favourite images often do worse on Instagram than my filler. Perhaps it was the accumulated frustration of these repeated ‘failures’ that finally touched a nerve.
Anyway, this isn’t really meant to be a blog about my Instagram woes. Rather, I wanted to offer a little reassurance to the other reader (not a typo) of my blogs: try not to put too much stock in impressions, likes or comments (unless it’s when I do my Scottish accent, in which case I’m happy to accept the attention.)
Even I know all this already, of course. It doesn’t stop the occasional annoyance, but perhaps recognising it for what it is helps.
Instead, I think it’s worth remembering why most of us do this in the first place, and what we want to get out of sharing our work. Fill the world with the sort of energy you want to put out there, and hopefully the right people will find you.
For me, that means being a cool cat who doesn’t take things too seriously, sharing photos I love, and occasionally reminding people that they could always buy a print (pleeeeease). For others, it might mean filling a workshop or building a following. There’s no right or wrong answer, as long as you’re honest with yourself about what you want.
Looking back, the best thing about sharing my photographic journey has been the number of like-minded people I’ve met and the friendships I’ve made along the way. Some have yet to start their own mid-life crisis; others have come out the other side. But we all share a passion and encouraging them and celebrating their successes has meant at least as much to me as my own, admittedly modest, achievements.
So, why does ‘their stuff’ do better than mine?
Sometimes, it’s the algorithm. Sometimes, it’s the audience. Sometimes, perhaps, their photo really is better.
But really, who cares!
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