For a long time, you would always see me with my camera bag.
Going places just to shoot. Observing everything. Editing late at night. Creating videos and photos not because I had to, but because I needed to.
Having a camera with me felt powerful. Almost protective. Like a weapon.
When it’s with me, I feel confident. Seen. Ready.
Creating something I saw, imagined and felt has always felt powerful to me. Photography feels like art, but more real. Real life. Real moments.
People talk a lot about being a “professional photographer.” And honestly… what does that even mean?
Someone who can use a camera and get exactly what they want, or what a client wants?
If that’s the definition, I feel like I’m very close to it.
But for me, photography was never about a title. It was about expression. About not being afraid to show your colors to the world. Photography feels like writing a book, the first release is always scary, because now people get to see what’s inside you. And once it’s out there, there’s no taking it back.
So you go with the flow.
You become the flow.
And you let creativity find you instead of chasing it.
When I Drifted Away From What I Loved
After moving to the US, life shifted. Fast.
I was focused on getting started. On proving myself. I took the work I could get: social media, marketing, helping businesses grow. And I don’t regret it. I’m good at it. It helped me at a time when I needed stability, and I was genuinely proud of the impact I could make.
But somewhere in that process, I drifted away from myself.
I didn’t stop creating, I just stopped creating as me.
I started feeling burned out. Not unhappy with life, I was, and still am, grateful and content. But something was missing. That spark that pushes you forward. That excitement that makes you feel alive.
And then it hit me.
Whenever I took photos, whenever I filmed something, whenever I edited and shared my art.
I felt alive. That made something click.
Why did I drift away from this? Why did I stop doing the one thing that never makes me bored? The one thing that makes me forget everything else?
Even when I’m sick. Even when I’m tired. Even when my body doesn’t feel great, once I’m out with my camera, everything disappears. And that’s exactly how you’re supposed to feel when you’re doing what you truly love.
Feeling “Dead” Inside, Without Being Unhappy
This part is important: I wasn’t unhappy with my life. I didn’t hate what I was doing. But I felt… flat.
Unmotivated. Not excited. Not inspired. That inner spark just wasn’t there.
My Canon T6, my baby, sat in a bag for seven or eight years. That alone says a lot. I still took photos on my phone. I never stopped noticing beauty. But it felt casual. Like something I liked doing, not something that was me.
And that’s how much you can forget yourself when you’re just trying to “make sense” instead of listening to what feels right.
Coming Back to Myself
In one of my previous blog posts (I’ll link it here), I talked about slowing down and listening more closely to myself. And honestly, the more I slowed down, the clearer everything became.
People close to me always told me the same thing: Creating. Photos. Visual storytelling. That’s you.
And they were right.
Once I allowed myself to reconnect with that truth, peace came back into my life. I stopped rushing to get “somewhere.” I stopped panicking about timelines.
Because I know I’ll get there.
I’m happy now. Calm. Present. Enjoying my days. Enjoying the process. Letting growth happen naturally instead of forcing it.
About Photography Rules, Settings…and Breaking Them
I love learning photography and videography.
I love understanding settings, exposure, shutter speed, composition, lighting, techniques. These things matter. They help you translate a vision when instinct alone isn’t enough.
But I don’t believe in limiting yourself by rules. Rules are tools. Not cages.
If artists only followed strict guides, we wouldn’t have Van Gogh. Or Dalí. Or any work that feels alive instead of correct.
Freedom is what allows creativity to flow, like a river. Sometimes calm, sometimes wild, but always moving.
I’m not saying ignore rules completely. Learn them. Respect them. Understand them.
And then break them.
Go crazy with exposure.
Play with shutter speed.
Push your f-stops.
Shoot what feels right.
Sometimes you have to know the rules just to break them properly, and honestly, both outcomes excite me equally. Following the rules and getting exactly what I envisioned feels just as good as breaking them and discovering something unexpected.
What the Camera Really Is to Me
My camera is not my art. It’s a tool.
It helps me translate what’s inside my head into the physical world. That’s it.
Photography teaches you how to notice.
Shadows. Light. People. Small details others walk past.
A crack in a wall. A flower growing where it shouldn’t.
The soul of the world.
The vision comes first. The feeling comes first.
The camera just helps me share it.
Becoming Comfortable With Who I Am Now
I feel like my plate keeps getting bigger, and I love that.
This is me. And I’m no longer afraid to admit it.
The version of me people knew before doesn’t exist anymore. And I’m comfortable with that. Because I’m finally comfortable with myself.
I accept my good sides. My ambition. My creativity. My sensitivity.
And yes, I deserve more. Why not?
A Message for You, If You’re Reading This
I want you to feel heard. Seen. Understood.
I don’t want you limiting yourself with rules – not in art, not in life. Creativity applies to everything. And art is subjective. Not everyone will understand it. Not everyone has to.
I don’t love modern art. I don’t get it. But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong. It just means it’s not for me.
Create anyway.
Be yourself anyway.
Let life flow to you with open doors.
Freedom is where creation begins.
And sometimes, all it takes is picking up the tool you already had and remembering who you are.