The Problem with Photography

I found a scribble in one of my 2019 notebooks:

The Problem with Photography:

  • It’s too easy to take a picture.
  • There are too many photos.

Five years later, I’m circling back to the same feeling.

The last couple of years, sometimes photography tires me.

That sounds dramatic, but let me explain. It started like any passion. Fifteen years ago, it was all-consuming. I’d carry my camera everywhere, shoot anything, and the excitement was in the doing. It was about the hunt: finding the perfect light, capturing a fleeting moment, making something beautiful appear on the back of the screen.

That thrill of the process was everything.

Slowly, over time, that focus shifted from the doing to the outcome. It became less about enjoying the act of shooting and more about creating a “good” photograph. Was it sharp enough? Was the composition right? Was it weird enough (yes that is a criterium of mine!)? Would it get likes? It felt like the goal was to fill a portfolio with technically perfect images that fit a specific mold. The fun started to drain away, replaced by a quiet self-imposed pressure.

It’s a strange place to be, to feel distant from something that was once a core part of your identity. A friend recently saw an old photo of mine and said, “You should shoot more like this again.” He was right. That photo wasn’t my most technically proficient work. But it had a feeling, an authenticity, that I realized had been missing from my recent, more calculated shots.

I’ve been thinking a lot about why this happens. I believe it comes down to three subtle shifts in mindset:

1. Process vs. Product: The initial joy is in the exploration, the walk, the observation, the click of the shutter. When your primary goal becomes the final image (the product), the process becomes a means to an end. It turns into work.
2. External Validation: It’s natural to want your work to be appreciated. But when “likes,” comments, or algorithmic visibility become a measure of success, you inevitably start creating for the audience, not for yourself.
3. The Burden of “Good”: Defining what makes a photograph “good” is subjective and ever-changing. Chasing this moving target is exhausting. It stifles experimentation because failure (i.e., not making a “good” photo) feels more costly.

So, where does that leave me? I’m definitely not giving up on photography. Instead, I’m trying to reset my relationship with it.

The goal isn’t to recapture some lost initial enthusiasm. That’s impossible I guess. The goal is to find a new, sustainable way to engage with the craft. For me, right now, that means stripping things back. It means shooting for no one, with no goal other than to look and to see. It means rediscovering the pleasure in the simple act of making a picture, regardless of its destination.

Perhaps you have felt something similar, not just with photography, but with any creative pursuit that has started to feel heavy. The path back isn’t about better gear or new techniques. It’s often about forgetting the rules you’ve imposed on yourself and remembering what drew you to pick up the camera in the first place.

PS: What do I consider a good photograph:

A still moment, taken out of context. Good photos leave a lot of room for interpretation. That’s why I don’t think it’s necessary to add date and location to a photo. I like images for the image, not for documentation.

Instagram leaves no time for interpretation. Next photo …

Photograph of dike at the waddensee in the netherlands by niek de greef

Noord-Holland quadrant NHQ#3

New Year’s Day was a sunny day, finally. A managed an afternoon photo trip in the area, covering four quadrants in Heemskerk.

These picture here are from the 19W-F21 area. They best reflect it was still wet everywhere from days of rain, with low hanging clouds, shards of fog over the fields and shallow and pale light. A day that starts late at 10.00 and already begins to vanish at 14.00.

Ed van der Elsken, street photographer in love

I visited Ed van der Elsken’s retrospective at the Stedelijk Museum. Van der Elsken is chaotic and distinctly extroverted, an expressionist. His films are messy and experimental. The exhibition was impressive, but mostly, it was a lot.

I came down the stairs with a full head. The book De Verliefde Camera is the catalog of this retrospective. In the introduction, Hripsimé Visser, the catalog’s compiler, calls the work vibrant and dynamic. Surely that seems like an understatement. The book gives an overview of Van der Elsken’s work chronologically.

Ed van der Elsken - de verliefde camera - book cover

Paris, street photographs. Then, a series called A Love Story: Love on the Left Bank. The photographs in this series are large areas of black, little light, and stark—more lust than love.

Then Africa. Again, rather dark photos. Where the story is anthropological, in my opinion, Van der Elsken was much more interested in the aesthetics of black people. Close-ups of Negroes and Negresses, and I don’t mean that as a swear word, but as an indication of the style of the photographs. Photographs that are not about life in Africa as their subject but much more about the anatomy of the African man.

Sweet Life. Van der Elsken at his best: street photographs of everything that comes in front of the camera that he finds interesting. Here, Van der Elsken measures up to William Klein and Robert Frank.

Amsterdam. There are street photos, reportage-style photos, and portraits. Again, the individual photos are the strongest. The street photos are of everyday things.

Eye Love You. Color for the first time. Everyday scenes. Topper: a photo of elderly ladies with sunglasses and in neat dresses photographing two Negro children as if they were at the zoo. The vicarious blush comes to your cheeks.

Japan. Again, the street photos of someone who takes unfettered pictures of everyday subjects.

Ultimately, Ed van der Elsken was primarily an excellent street photographer who tried to make ends meet through his photography. His street photographs are world-class.