The One Thing That Makes You a Better Photographer… and it rather obvious.

When I started photography, I didn’t have mentors or formal training. I had curiosity, a camera, and YouTube, like a lot of people. In the beginning, I watched dozens of videos. Some were useful, most were noise. Over time, I realised that watching wasn’t translating into skill. The biggest shift happened when I started going outside and making photographs nearly every day. I walked the streets of London endlessly, often for hours, just observing, shooting, experimenting. I tried different cameras, messed around with different formats, and eventually dove into film because I wanted to better understand how light really works. Film forces you to think, to slow down, to get it right in-camera, to be intentional. I didn’t realise it at the time, but I was building an instinct for light. I reached a point where I could look at a scene and meter the exposure in my head. That kind of understanding doesn’t come from tutorials. It comes from doing it, over and over.

The Only Way to Learn Is to Do

There’s nothing wrong with watching educational videos or reading books. Knowing how your camera works and understanding the physics of light are important, foundational even. But once you’ve grasped the basics, the rest has to come from experience. The problem I’ve noticed is that too many people get stuck in the learning phase. They collect information like it’s going to make them better. But it doesn’t. At some point, you have to step away from the screen and apply what you’ve learnt. You have to test things out, shoot in different conditions, edit badly exposed images, experiment with light, fail, learn, and try again.

Recently, I took a break from photojournalism. Not because I was tired, but because I wanted to better understand the Nikon Z6 II I had just picked up. I didn’t want to rely on reviews or someone else’s opinion. I wanted to feel how it worked in my hands. So I took time off, tested it extensively, and threw as many images as I could into Capture One. I played with colour calibration, compared skin tones, pushed files, broke them, and rebuilt them. That wasn’t “content”. That wasn’t about trying to be productive. It was just practice, the kind that helps me grow in the direction I want to go. The kind that improves confidence and removes hesitation when I’m on assignment or in the field.

Tenacity Is the Easy Part If You Care Enough

One of the most common issues I see in creatives isn’t talent, it’s consistency. People start with enthusiasm, then lose steam. But if you really love photography, showing up gets easier. When the craft pulls you in, you don’t need motivation, you just need time. That said, love for the medium isn’t always enough. Life gets busy, self-doubt creeps in, and social media feeds start to shape our expectations. You begin to wonder if your work is good enough or if it matters. But the only thing that ever moves you forward is showing up. Even when it’s boring. Even when the light is terrible. Even when no one’s watching.

You have to find ways to keep going when things feel stale. The photographers who improve the most aren’t necessarily the most talented, they’re the ones who are committed. They put the hours in. They make a thousand terrible photos before they make one good one. They keep pressing the shutter until something starts to make sense. If you care about your work, and you want to be better, tenacity shouldn’t feel like punishment. It should feel necessary.

Vision Must Guide the Work

A lot of photographers fall into the trap of shooting aimlessly. They’re out with their cameras, which is great, but there’s no real direction. They want to do portraits but keep shooting landscapes. They say they’re interested in street photography but never leave their neighbourhood. There’s no wrong subject, but your time should match your goals. If you want to improve in a specific area, then shoot in that area. Be deliberate. Even test shoots matter. If you can’t work with people yet, set up objects, light them as if they’re human faces, simulate what you eventually want to master. But don’t just wander and hope you’ll improve. Make your shooting purposeful. Your work should be building toward something.

Photography without intent is often just noise. It feels active, but it rarely leads to meaningful progress. When you know where you're headed, even your experiments will feel more grounded. You’ll start noticing gaps in your knowledge or technique that you can then address through practice, not consumption.

Don’t Get Stuck in the Distractions

A lot of people these days are more focused on how their gear looks on Instagram than how their work feels. There’s too much talk about cameras and not enough about what they’re being used to say. The conversation is dominated by tech reviews, debates about whether film is better than digital, and superficial comparisons that don’t get you closer to making stronger images. That’s what I mean when I say creatives are focusing on the wrong things.

What makes it worse is the rise of edutainment, content that feels educational but isn’t really helping you improve. People binge gear videos and tutorials but haven’t shot anything in weeks. They know every spec of every new lens but don’t know how to make compelling images with the gear they already own. It’s easy to think you’re learning when you’re just consuming. But that’s not growth, it’s procrastination disguised as productivity.

There’s a strange obsession with becoming “known” rather than becoming good. Everyone wants recognition before they’ve put in the work. But great photographers don’t chase clout. They chase truth. They pay attention. They show up. They see what others miss. They spend more time behind the lens than in front of the algorithm. And that’s exactly why their work connects.

Taste Comes From Repetition, Not Inspiration

Taste isn’t something you develop overnight. It’s something that forms over time, through trial and error. You make hundreds, thousands of images, and slowly you begin to see patterns. You notice what you’re drawn to, what feels right, what lights hit differently, what compositions speak louder. That’s taste. But you only get there by doing the work.

The more you shoot, the more you realise what matters to you. Your taste gets sharper. You edit differently. You frame differently. You start choosing moments that feel more “you”. And all of that comes from experience, not passive inspiration. You can scroll for days and see work that moves you, but until you make your own, you won’t understand what your voice sounds like.

There’s also something personal that happens when you engage with photography regularly. You become more aware of how you see the world. It shifts the way you interact with your environment, how you notice people, how you anticipate light. Your photos stop being random and start being intentional. That doesn’t come from theory, it comes from presence, and practice.

The Work Is the Shortcut

Everyone’s looking for a faster way to get better, and it doesn’t exist. There’s no preset, course, or camera that’s going to make you better than time and effort will. You can watch every tutorial ever made and still be average if you’re not making your own work consistently. There is no secret beyond repetition and reflection.

Growth happens when you shoot even when it’s inconvenient. When you test your tools until they become extensions of your hand. When you edit your own mistakes and learn from them. When you start trusting your instincts more than someone else’s review. That’s how you level up.

You have to ask yourself why you’re doing this. Is it to be seen, or is it to see? Because the ones who get better, who last, are the ones who commit to seeing. To noticing. To being present in the world with a camera and asking questions through the frame. That’s the kind of work that lasts.

Committing to Photography Means Committing to Life

To take photography seriously is to take life seriously. Not in the sense of being heavy or dramatic, but in the sense of paying attention. Of looking closer. Of honouring the beauty in quiet moments and the tension in fleeting ones. It means you care enough to document something, not just to post it, but because it moved you.

Photography asks you to be curious, to slow down, to care. And that only happens when you’re truly engaging with the process. When you’re shooting regularly. When you’re editing thoughtfully. When you’re reflecting on your progress and pushing toward something more.

You don’t need better gear. You don’t need more tutorials. You need to make more photographs. You need to take risks, be deliberate, and let your mistakes guide you. And you need to do it often.

So take a walk. Take your camera. Test something. Try something. Make something.

Then do it again.

And again.

That’s how you get better. That’s the only way

FAQ

What is the fastest way to improve at photography?

The fastest way to improve at photography is by practising regularly and with purpose. Get out and shoot in different lighting, environments, and situations. The more you make, review, and reflect, the quicker your instincts develop.

Do I need expensive gear to be a good photographer?

No, you don’t. Great photography comes from understanding light, composition, and intention. Many professionals create beautiful work using basic or second-hand cameras. Focus on what you’re capturing, not what you’re capturing it with.

How can I stay motivated to practise photography consistently?

Find meaning in your work. Start a personal project, shoot what genuinely interests you, or create small challenges for yourself. Motivation builds when you feel connected to what you’re shooting, not when you’re chasing perfection.

Is self-taught photography effective?

Absolutely. Many respected photographers are self-taught. If you’re willing to experiment, fail, and keep going, then being self-taught can give you unique insight and independence that formal training might not.

How does practising photography help develop a personal style?

Practising regularly helps you spot patterns in your work. Over time, you begin to notice what you’re drawn to — how you frame, how you light, what you care about. Your visual style naturally emerges from repetition and reflection.

Why is doing the work more important than watching tutorials?

Tutorials can teach you theory, but real growth comes from putting that knowledge to use. When you’re out shooting, you’re developing instincts, problem-solving on the fly, and learning how to respond to real conditions. That’s where skill lives.

What should I focus on as a beginner photographer?

Learn how to use your camera manually, understand how light affects your image, and practise framing strong compositions. Don’t overthink gear. Shoot regularly, review your work, and take the time to figure out what kind of images you want to make..