Adam Kenna - why photography matters

Lets get specific

Today's topic is something I've talked about countless times but never actually written about in a public post. But before I dive into that, let me bring you back to last week’s dilemma: I gave you two options—Option A, where I take the business advice, or Option B, where I go back to my old job. Well, I’ve got an answer for you, and I think I’ve landed somewhere in between. Let’s call it Option C. I’ve returned to my job part-time, which has solved a lot of issues for me. At the same time, I’ll be hanging out with my mentor again, getting some much-needed advice. So, all in all, I’m really happy with where things are and how everything is unfolding. I’ve already had my first shoots back, and even though I was nervous, I quickly remembered how much I missed client interactions and the joy of capturing beautiful photos.

Now, onto today’s topic: "Why Photography Matters." It may sound a bit dramatic, but as time goes on, I feel like we’re losing touch with its true power—the ability to capture and preserve memories. In today’s world, where we take and share everything on social media and our phones, I want to stress the importance of printing your photos and having physical copies of your memories.

Let me start with a story. I’ve mentioned my wonderful girlfriend before, and a few weeks ago, we were at her grandparents' house. We were talking about our upcoming trips to Western Australia's southwest and how much we love exploring the state. This led to a conversation about their own adventures and everything they’ve seen around Australia. It’s amazing to look back on a life well-lived—the moments, the adventures, and, of course, the photos.

As we were talking, they brought out several photo albums filled with memories. They showed us trips to the Bungle Bungles, nights around campfires under the Milky Way, and explorations in Alice Springs and Uluru. Every moment had a photo and a story to go with it—how they were crammed into a Toyota Landcruiser Troopcarrier, getting stuck and digging out tires from the soft sand. These were perfect memories of uniquely perfect moments.

This story isn’t just about that trip, though. It’s a reminder of why we take photos in the first place. The amazing part wasn’t just the photos themselves, but how they sparked stories and deeper recollections. It wasn’t just “This is when we were there.” It was “When we took this, I had climbed a hill to watch the sunset, and I remember two young lads being jealous that, at 52, I could still move so well.” Seeing an 80-year-old man recall his adventures like that is truly inspiring.

When I started photography and studied the pioneers of the craft, I always aspired to create physical prints—photo books, galleries—because I was never interested in just viewing my work on a screen. I want people to experience physical prints. For example, I have a copy of my first photo book infant of me. I remember doing the Ha Giang loop in Vietnam, being blown away by the views, the mountains, and the people. On the first day, I asked our guide, “Is this the best view?” He said, “Just wait a few more days.”

This repeated until we arrived at the Ma Pi Leng Pass on the third day. Before we reached the lookout, I saw a young girl hiking up the road in sandals, carrying freshly cut rice on her back. I will never forget her standing there—had she walked far up the side of the mountain? How old was she? How heavy was the rice? All these questions filled my mind before our guide called me. I walked down the 40 meters to him, and in that moment, I knew we were at the spot my guide had told me about three days prior. I remember the smells, the clouds in the sky, the scale of the boats far below, and the terraced rice fields covering the mountains. Holding the photo book in my hands now brings all those memories flooding back. This is the power of a photograph. When you print your work, it’s not just a picture—it’s a physical reminder of who you were, where you were, and how you felt at that moment.

That printed book gets looked at a few times a year, or whenever I happen to stumble upon it. It's a reminder of the scared young man who was terrified to do that loop—worried about the food, being so remote, losing gear, mosquitoes, and all the anxious thoughts that nearly stopped me from doing the best thing I’ve ever done. Now, when I look at it, I feel nothing but love for what I accomplished, even if, at the time, I was running away from what I would eventually have to face during the pandemic over the next two years.

For anyone who wants to experience this for themselves, I suggest going to an older relative's house, pulling out their photo albums, and asking about the pictures. I guarantee you’ll find a random party photo from the '80s or something similar. Ask them about the people, the party, and what was happening outside the frame. You’ll see firsthand how a single photo can spark a memory that will turn into a conversation about who they were with, why, where are they all now and not only will you have a great conversation you’ll also see those people in a new light as a result. Just like we did with my partners adventurous grandparents.

This is where I think we’ve gone wrong with digital photography. We’re taking more photos now than ever before, but what are we doing with them? In most cases, nothing. We store them until our phones break or our memory fills up, and we lose those precious moments. It happened to me last year, so I know how easy it is.

I understand that printing photos can be costly, and it’s hard to decide which ones to print when you love so many. But I have a few tips to help you preserve your memories:

• Create photo books from trips—they don’t need to be published, but they’re a great way to preserve memories in a physical form.

• Print family photos from big events—there’s nothing better than looking back at 21st birthday photos of your parents or relatives.

• Print your favorites—make an album on your phone of treasured memories, and print them online with services like Snapfish, which offers a very cheap option.

These are simple but effective ways to preserve your memories. It might sound silly now, but when we’re all 60 and our old iPhones no longer work, we’ll wish we had printed those important moments. Do it now for the moments that matter, and preserve your memories for the future.

Thank you
Print your work.