129. Learning to see

Comrades,

While you read this, I’ll be doing my best to be sociable at a wedding in Belgium.

I don’t have much to share this time. I do, however, have thousands of old photographs sitting in the archive, quietly waiting for their turn. One day I’ll get around to them and make something worthwhile.

So today, I simply want to share a few photos that I took in and around Barcelona a few weeks back when I went to say goodbye to my dad together with a few thoughts I’ve been gathering more recently.

The older I get, the more I realise how little I know. About the world, about people, and especially about life.

People often tell me I seem confident when they meet me. The truth is quite the opposite. Inside, I’m full of doubts and fears. Failure, rejection, not fitting in, disapproval… those things are the constant background noise in my mind, even behind a firm handshake.

But you know what, comrades?

Everything good that has happened to me has had very little to do with me. More often than not, it’s been the result of someone else believing in me before I believed in myself.

For that, I’m deeply grateful.

I’ve also learned that silence is far more powerful than trying to prove a point.

Indeed comrades, fear is good!. if something doesn’t scare you at least a little, it’s probably not the thing you want the most.

The things that truly matter to us rarely arrive wrapped in comfort. They usually show up looking like uncertainty, risk, and even self-doubt.

Fear is the vessel for growth. Comfort, on the other hand, feels safe, but it keeps you small. It is through courage that we move forward.

Most of the things I’m proud of today began as things I was afraid to do. More often than not, everything you want lies on the other side of fear. And even when it doesn’t, the journey itself usually turns out to be the reward.

Someone asked me this week why there is no people in most of my personal work. I had a hunch where this person was coming from. I didn’t want to reply but I was kind of forced to, so I simply said I don’t think there’s a need for people on every shot because my work is not about people but about space, culture and how we fit in that space. I think this person was missing the point. My work is not street photography, it’s photography OF the streets.

Last week I was talking with a creative friend about the state of the online world.

I mentioned the new portfolio I’m building, and she asked me why I even bothered with a website anymore.

It’s a fair question.

Today, artists and creatives are expected to publish their work on social media for the world to see. The problem is that our work is filtered through algorithms that decide who sees it, when they see it, and how much of it they see.On the other side of the screen, our work is measured through likes, shares, views, and engagement. Metrics that have become proxies for success.

We’re expected to be not just artists, but marketers, videographers, editors, retouchers, publishers, and even influencers all at once.

The work becomes secondary. The message becomes secondary. The art becomes secondary.

By the end of our conversation, I shared my artist manifesto with her. It serves as a reminder of why I create in the first place. A small act of resistance against the machine.

If we allow platforms to dictate our creativity, we risk losing far more than we ever agreed to give away. We end up following rules written by people who are far less invested in our ideas than we are.

That conversation stood with me. This morning I was thinking that the largest social media platforms have done a great job over the last decade to democratised visibility.

But today, everyone gets ignored equally.

Even in this platform, about 2% of my subscribers interact with these newsletters. My work is not content, it’s not produced to become viral, it’s completely the opposite.

In today’s metrics, at best, an image receives a few seconds of attention before the thumb keeps scrolling, with roughly the same concentration span as a dog staring at its own reflection.

The artist’s family and social circle remain the first institution that supports the arts. They do it without funding, without agendas, and without commercial interests.They support the artist because they care about the artist.

So perhaps the question is this:

Why do we spend so much energy seeking the approval of strangers when we already have the attention of people who genuinely want us to succeed?

Comrades, I’m not campaigning against social media. I use it, I have to either I like it or not since I want my work to reach as many people as possible. But it is how I use it what matters. My message is always the same, here, there and everywhere. I just don’t play their game.

Until next time.