It’s no secret to those who know me that life has been drastically different over the past year. After coming back from four incredible months travelling with my amazing partner, I was ready to throw myself into fine art photography as a full-time career. I had all the ideas, the concepts, and the plans mapped out—how, when, and where to shoot them. But there was one small issue: four months of travelling around Europe wasn’t cheap, and I came back completely broke. I had no car, no job, and had quit my role as a commercial photographer—a job I was actually really good at. So, all those grand plans to make a splash in the Australian fine art scene had to be put on hold while I picked up whatever work I could find. I did some photography gigs, hung doors, painted houses, installed skirting boards, painted a shed, and even put up a horse fence in a paddock. The odd jobs you can find are amazing.
Fast forward a year, and not much has changed on the work front. I’m still doing bits of photography, still picking up other jobs when they come up. I’ve brought a lot of my ideas to life, tried new ones, and revisited some older concepts. But as I mentioned in a previous email, I forgot about the whole lady luck element when it comes to fine art—it’s not just about making good work; it’s about timing, connections, and a bit of luck. A recent workshop highlighted that, while I am making good work, I haven’t really found my unique voice yet. A lot of it feels too literal, guiding the viewer through the story and holding their hand along the way. This realisation has sparked some new ideas that I’m genuinely excited to explore.
So, here’s where I’m currently at: I met with my old boss last week—who’s also a friend. I went in looking for some business advice, hoping to get guidance on navigating the photography world when you don’t have the network you need. We tossed around some ideas and even discussed the possibility of me returning to my old job, an idea I have deliberated over exploring for the past 12 months. This past week, my partner and I have been down south in Western Australia photographing some beautiful Airbnbs, which has given me some time to think over my options:
Option A: Take all the business advice I can get from him and keep going on my own.
Option B: Explore what going back to work with them might look like.
Why even consider going back? Well, when I left that job, I was burnt out. I loved it, but it was chaotic at the time, and I often felt overwhelmed because I wasn’t communicating properly. In hindsight, it was a mix of chaos, poor communication, and lack of organisation on my part. Back then, I was frustrated and uninspired to the point where I didn’t want to pick up my camera outside of work. Now, 18 months later, I realise how grateful I should have been for that work, and how great the team and clients were. Plus, I was in a better place then, not just with work but also with the structure it gave me.
These are the questions I’ve been grappling with for the past year: Did I make a mistake leaving the company? Was I better off before or now? Would returning with the lessons I’ve learned put me in a better position? Would going back benefit me as a photographer, or financially? Would it give me more time and resources to invest in my fine art projects? Would I thrive in a structured team environment? I’ve wrestled with all of these questions over and over.
The truth is, the only thing that stopped me from going back six months ago was fear. I saw it as a literal step backwards, not forwards. But is that really true? I think we often see going backwards as a negative. And sure, sometimes it is—we’ve all gone back to jobs, relationships, or friendships and later regretted it. But what if going back actually helps you in areas you’ve struggled with since you’ve left? Could that, in turn, move other parts of your life forward?
So, as I write this, I realise I just needed to get it off my chest: if you’re like me and afraid of going backwards because it feels like a step back, maybe try looking at it from a different lens (photography pun intended). Maybe going back to a job I enjoyed, with people I like, doing something I’m good at, could provide the structure and income that supports my creative pursuits. Maybe I can use what I’ve learnt to do things differently this time. And maybe it’s time to let go of old narratives and step into who I can become as a result of it. Maybe
Some of the places I have spent time this past week. Nature is incredible.
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Of course, no one can advise you what to do. All anyone can offer is perspective from a different location.
On the one hand, the experiences of the past year have probably informed your inner world in ways you simply cannot yet appreciate. Art is about experience and perception, both of which have been altered for you.
On the other hand, steady work with people you enjoy is also about experience and perception, just along a different path. And yes, the work may once again slow your energies and motivations in your aspirations. But the calm and assurance that accompanies steady income is sustaining to both body and dreams.
I entered commercial photography and worked up, largely loving the experience. I did catalog, B2B, and some advertising work in a couple local studios. I thought to shape my path and success more by opening my own studio. Heady times. I learned running a business and making photos were so very different skill sets. Upon facing renewal on a lease for my space, my partner and I had one of those life-changing convos, and suddenly I was on a new path: being the at-home parent for our child hoping to pursue my photography as art.
I became very absorbed in raising our child and supporting my partner as she worked hard to successfully grow her business. Priceless experience. But the photography came to serve watching our child grow while my own personal photographic growth slowed.
Now, decades on, I am picking back up on the artistic growth that slowed and finding new footing. It is exciting because it has always lived in me - and lives still.
There is no substitute for the hours of work and experience that must be put in to grow artistically. But, too, every experience you choose is about growth. And while it is trite, the advice that no path you choose will be the wrong one is valid. If your love of creating images is important to you, it will live on, and its expression will emerge when appropriate.
Whether doing odd jobs and cobbling together the resources to develop your art or doing photography for others and making the effort to keep feeding your artistic vision (and art network) whenever possible, you’ll be fine.
Have one of those honest convos with your partner and together figure out which way offers you both the deepest expressions of love, experience, and perception.
For what it’s worth . . .
Thanks for sharing. All the best for your decision making journey.