Why Most Photographers Improve Slowly

When people ask me how I became a better photographer, they often expect me to talk about cameras, lenses, workshops, books, or photographers who inspired me. All of those things certainly helped, but when I look back honestly, I think the biggest factor was something else entirely.

Some of the most important growth in my photography happened while I was studying photography at university. It wasn’t because I suddenly had access to amazing equipment or because I was learning some secret technique. What I had was an environment that constantly pushed me to improve.

I was surrounded by other photographers. We talked about photography all the time. We looked at photographs together, discussed ideas, shared projects, and challenged each other. Most importantly, there was an expectation that you would actually make work and show it. Not just talk about photography, but go out and do it.

Knowing that my photographs would be seen by other people changed the way I worked. If I wasn’t happy with what I had shot, I stayed longer. If I felt there was something more to explore, I went back a second time. If I knew I could do better, I pushed myself harder. There was a certain amount of pressure involved because I knew I would eventually have to put those photographs in front of my classmates and instructors and talk about them.

At the time, I probably didn’t appreciate how valuable that was.

Photography can be a lonely pursuit. Most of us spend a lot of time working on our own. We go out with a camera, make photographs, come home, edit them, and maybe post a few online. There is nothing wrong with that, but I think many photographers are missing something that can dramatically accelerate their growth.

Accountability.

When nobody is expecting to see your work, it becomes very easy to make excuses. The weather wasn’t great. I wasn’t feeling inspired. I’ll go next week. I’ll start that project later. I’ve done all of those things myself.

When people are expecting to see your work, something changes. You make the extra effort. You go out when you don’t particularly feel like it. You revisit an idea that didn’t work the first time. You stop waiting for motivation and start relying on commitment.

Looking back, I think that environment taught me far more than technical skills ever did. It taught me how to work. It taught me persistence. It taught me that good photographs rarely appear out of nowhere and that many of the images I’m most proud of came from returning to the same place, the same person, or the same idea over and over again.

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that many amateur photographers never really get that opportunity. They watch YouTube videos, read articles, buy books, and follow photographers they admire, but they don’t have a group of people encouraging them, challenging them, and holding them accountable. They have access to more information than ever before, but often less structure.

That realization is one of the reasons I started the ASKMOTT community.

What I wanted to create wasn’t another place to talk endlessly about gear. I wanted to create the kind of environment that helped me when I was learning photography. A place where photographers could challenge themselves through assignments, share their work, receive feedback, ask questions, and stay motivated to keep creating.

More recently, we’ve added a Personal Projects section because I believe some of the most meaningful growth in photography happens through long term projects. The projects that have had the biggest impact on my own career were rarely completed in a day, a week, or even a month. They required patience, commitment, and a reason to keep going when the excitement inevitably faded.

Whether you’re part of the community or not, my advice is simple. Give yourself a reason to keep showing up. Start a project that matters to you. Commit to it. Go back a second time. Stay longer than you planned. Push a little harder than feels comfortable.

The photographs you remember most are rarely the ones that happened by accident. More often, they’re the result of sustained effort, curiosity, and persistence.

At least that’s been true in my own experience.