There has never been a better, or worse, time to get into photography

I sat down tonight with a very specific, very safe plan: write a blog about printing. Talk about how much I suggest people print their work, especially since I just launched a print book. But frankly, I just wasn't feeling it. I suspect that's a side effect of making and launching a book, which is far more vulnerable that you might think, it forced me to muse philosophically about the whole craft and what it means. Where I landed is this, being a photographer today is an incredible contradiction. It’s never been a better time to get into photography, but at the same time, it's never been a worse time either. The printing article will come, for now let's muse on this for a while.

It really never has been easier

I talk a lot to folks who come into the camera shop I often loiter at, that I meet when I'm out on location, and basically to anyone who will listen about how wonderful it is that photography is so accessible today. As a wildlife photographer this is an even bigger deal. If we just focus on cost, you can do today for 2-3 grand what you used to need near on 10+ grand to do. Gear has gotten so high quality, and so cheap that it's never been easier to pick up a camera capable of taking amazing images for an incredibly affordable price. No longer are magazine and award winning images gate kept behind a paywall, and for artistic expression and people pushing the boundaries of the art form, this is AMAZING. Lowering barriers brings more diversity, and diversity brings perspective, new ways to do things, new techniques and unique ways to see the world and I love that.

And let's take a minute to talk about what goes in those affordable cameras. Subject detect autofocus, high ISO shooting, 15-20 frames per second captures, auto ISO and light meters that work, 10-15 stops of dynamic range when shooting RAW. The tech is outstanding, unlocking the power of creativity and giving artists more time to focus on the art rather than technical settings or limitations. Getting a sharp shot of a bird in flight for instance is the new standard, at least thats how I look at it, the bare minimum for me today is a sharp image, because the gear is so advanced it makes that almost easy. Thats an awesome thing, and it allows more time to be spent on composition and positioning, but it also forces your voice to be found elsewhere, in how you edit. I did a whole blog on this awhile back to I won't retread that topic, but editing is where expression lives, and lets talk about how amazing that is these days.

With the advent of modern non destructive digital editing tools, lightroom, capture one, any of the countless others editing is more accessible than ever, and with the addition of AI into that mix, just like in cameras, its been supercharged. Don't worry, AI doesn't get off free and clear here, far from it, but we will get to that later. But subject detect masking, upscaling, and probably most impressively denoise are amazing. I did a whole blog on ai denoise, it's amazing, and another thing that makes wildlife photography today so accessible. It's nothing anymore to shoot an f6.3 or even an f9 lens and clean the files. I love that, it goes back to a thing thats more accessible is never bad.

So, we have cheaper gear with better AF, and software that makes technical flaws vanish. The equation seems simple: Technical perfection is now the baseline. It's easier than ever to create an image that, in any decade prior, would have been considered museum quality.

But here’s the problem, and this is where the contradiction crushes in: If the technical floor is that high, what is the ceiling? And why, when we are all creating flawless, accessible work, can it feel so incredibly hollow?

The Contradiction:

The internet is an interesting place. I owe my full time career to it, I've always been a techie, and it has so much power to inform and amplify voices that otherwise wouldn't be heard. But I've watched over the years as it has migrated from a place filled with communities, to algorithms designed for quick dopamine hits.

Look, photography is a personal journey and I know there will always be someone who says, "well do it for yourself, it's not about likes etc." In truth I agree with that sentiment, it's not about likes. But artists, when we pour time and soul and vulnerability into that art, we often do want connection with others through that expression. It's deeply human to want that, to want to engage with people about what we have created, to be understood in a sense.

And frankly, the modern internet economy isn't designed for that. It's all about likes, virality, over saturation, who can be the loudest in the room or who follows the most trends. It's transactional, and it can be deeply, deeply discouraging to a new artist who is looking to connect with their fellow humans.

These systems are designed to keep you down. They're built to keep you paying for boosts to be seen, to force you to turn into a content creator rather than an artist because that's what they reward. A unique eye or genuinely good work isn't enough anymore.

And if you have a blog like this one? Good luck.

I made the conscious decision to host this on my own platform, which means if I post a link to it on social media, it gets automatically down-ranked. Why? Because those companies don't want you posting content that has people leave the little ad-generating ecosystems they've created, where you are the product.

They also drastically devalue art, and that is extending through society in new and interesting ways. These platforms exist because of the artists who fuel them, artists who make basically zero, the ultimate expression of "do it for the exposure," while they rake in tons of money on ad revenue for everyone scrolling other people's works. Music, photography, all of it co-opted by corporate profit-generating machines filling our feed with the loudest, brightest stuff, all based on likes and engagement not connection.

Its Time to Talk about AI

And this brings us to the biggest, most fascinating contradiction of all: the AI we use to clean our images is simultaneously the machine that is trying to replace us entirely.

The onset of consumer-grade generative AI has created a massive, societal shift in the perceived value of art. You might hear people say, "Well yeah, I can generate it myself now. I don't need a graphic designer, or a photographer, or a musician, or hard work and talent."

But let's talk about the true source of that contradiction.

The AI people are using to replace artists so quickly was created by stealing all of those same people's works. By a few large companies deciding they could just ingest the entire internet, give no credit, and face no consequences for massive, uncompensated theft.

It's theft that is making it harder and harder for folks to turn artistry into a job in any meaningful way. It's the ultimate corporate co-option: using our collective, original work to build a tool that devalues all future original work.

The Thesis

I guess if I were to write a thesis on why it might be one of the worst times to pick up a camera, it would likely be this:

We live in a time where artists are expected to work for exposure, pay to be seen, and mold their vision to fit algorithmic trend cycles, all in service of a system designed not to elevate art, but to monetize attention. Art has been strip-mined for ad revenue by platforms posing as communities, and photography is far from the only example. If you pick up a camera today, you’re entering a system built to commodify your creativity, and bury anything that doesn’t go viral. It's taken that desire to connect, that deeply human thing, and turned it into extraction, all while quietly stealing your work on the backend so they can distill your vision into data, and sell it back to the world without your name attached.

So what can we do?

Honestly, I wish I had a real answer here. I don’t. And I don’t have some neatly packaged, hopeful solution either. Philosophical musings are a pain in the ass like that.

What I have tried to do is find connection where I can. It’s one of the reasons I started this blog. A free space, not shaped by algorithm, where I can share thoughts and interact with people who actually want to interact. It’s also why I made a book. I don’t expect it to sell much, and that’s okay. It’s not about sales. It’s about making something tangible and real. A way someone can connect with my work that isn’t filtered or buried by a system designed to disguise connection as “likes.”

Maybe books or blogging aren’t your thing. I get that. I’m not a “content creator” either, and I have no desire to be one.

So here’s what I’ll say. Look for smaller communities. Places that exist outside the big social platforms. As someone who works in tech, I can say confidently that I wouldn’t trust any of them to help you build real connection. But in smaller spaces, connection can still grow. Local camera clubs can be a great start, hell I talk to people at all my local shooting spots constantly too. I’ve also had good experiences in online spaces like The 617 Club, founded by Thomas Heaton and Simon Baxter, and Glass, a photography-focused phone app.

The downside is that they cost money.

The upside is that when something costs money, it usually means you’re not the product.

When I am on the big platforms I stop on images that stop me, leave a thoughtful comment. Not just Nice! or Amazing! but talk about why I like it, what they did I find compelling. Artists LOVE when you engage in a way they can respond, they want to talk about the art they make, well most do.

I just realized this post doesn't have a single image in it, which is pretty sad for a photography blog. I promise next week we will be back to the regularly scheduled content packed with pretty images that are oversaturated, over sharpened, and eye catching. (kidding) But seriously, I wanted to write this because its hard out there to be a photographer, and I wanted you all to know that your not alone in those feelings, and that its ok to have them.