failing at photography

Every photo I take is a failure. Let me explain.

Something that happened to me—and maybe to every photographer—is that I developed a way of seeing where, the moment I look at something, I already see the photo. Or rather, I feel the emotion behind what I see, and that emotion shapes the image I want to capture. The picture I want to share.

And that’s when I call it a failure. Because I take the photo, I look at it, and for five brief seconds I feel satisfied. But then I lift my eyes back to the landscape, and it hits me again—like seeing it for the very first time.

There’s a saying that no photo ever does justice to being there in the moment. And it’s true. The scene shifts, the light changes, and suddenly it feels even greater than before. Almost as if the world is laughing at me—or laughing with me.

And so the urge grows stronger. I raise my camera again, chasing that fleeting feeling, knowing I’ll never quite catch it. But maybe that’s the beauty of it: photography is not about capturing everything—it’s about the endless attempt.

It’s not only about the pictures I take. It’s also about where photography takes me.