The Work Demands More

Rethinking how I share, connect, and create.

“We don't belong to the same boat.

It's the storm we share.

We all belong to the one road.

It's up to you to get there.”

What a lyric. This is from the song Tonnta by Amble.

Tonnta is the Irish word for "waves."

It’s such a beautiful song, one I’ve probably listened to a hundred times, but I think it was only over the weekend that I truly heard it. I was driving home after an 11-hour day: photographing for 5 hours, turning those images around within 2, shooting again for another 2 hours, then editing for an hour and a half after getting home.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was that I was actually present with the song- but something finally hit me: how beautiful those words are.

“We don’t belong to the same boat” - the way we each navigate life is vastly different.

“It’s the storm we share” - our struggles may be individual, but they’re universally experienced.

“We all belong to the same road” - we’re all part of a shared journey.

“It’s up to you to get there” - peace, growth, or meaning doesn’t just arrive. We each have to choose it and work for it.

Anyway, Amble is an incredible band and absolutely worth a listen.

Now, onto today’s topic:

Why I no longer think of myself as a photographer, at least when it comes to my art practice.

This has been sitting with me for a while. I’ve had the joy of sharing glimpses of Gaoth here, even printing a few pieces and loving the result. But it raised a bigger question:

How do I want to show this work?

I’ve spent a long time testing ideas, sitting with the reasons behind them, and I’ve come to a realisation:

I’m not a photographer who makes art. I’m an artist who uses photography as my medium.

Let me explain.

I am a photographer. It’s my livelihood, my passion, and the way I make a living. But for a long time, I had this idea that I’d create work, hang it in galleries, tell some stories and that would be my path. I still admire the naivety of that version of me.

But things have shifted. Not just recently, this has been building for a while. And I figured I’d take you along for the ride.

A couple of weeks ago, someone asked me what business I’m in.

After some honest reflection, I realised the answer wasn’t photography.

It was connection.

So, back to Gaoth. Gaoth is, at its core, a series about wind. If I approached it purely from a photographic point of view, the question becomes: I’ve taken the images, now how do I share them?

There are two main options.

I could host an exhibition. Beautifully framed prints, carefully curated walls, an opening night with music, good food, and drinks. A lovely evening. One I’ve already done four times. It’s always amazing.

I could also turn them into a photobook. Something beautiful, incorporating some of my writing, maybe a poem or two, or even an Irish blessing. A piece that could live on a coffee table and carry the work with grace.

But lately, I’ve realised something: maybe I’ve been leaving something on the table when it comes to connection, and how I display my work.

Think of it as a sensory thing.

In a traditional exhibition, the visuals are strong, the music is magic, and the food and drinks add a nice touch. But they’re not directly tied to the work. They sit alongside it.

Now, if I start thinking of the work not just as photography but as a bridge for connection, then I have to ask:

What else could elevate the experience?

What am I missing if I only think like a photographer?

And that’s where I feel the shift.

If I treat this series as just photos on a wall, I’m missing a whole layer of potential—stones left unturned, and a deeper opportunity for connection overlooked.

So, that’s where I’m at.

You’re now caught up to the present moment.

On that, over the weekend I documented a massive floral installation for a Mother’s Day festival. Fifteen artists worked with flowers and concepts to bring it all to life.

There’s a lot I could unpack from that experience and how it’s influenced where I want to go, but for now, let me just say this:

If you’re an artist, or someone thinking about how to share your work- remember: you’re only bound by your ability to bring your imagination to life. That, and money. Money always helps.

But there are so many things you can do with very little budget.

Projectors are incredible. Music transforms everything. Smell is a deeply important part of any sensory experience.

I still remember the exhibition that made me realise there are levels to this.

It was an installation by artist Hayley Welsh, an incredible painter and muralist. She had twelve pieces on the wall, all stunning. But the last one was painted on a jigsaw, with one piece missing.

In the middle of the room sat a massive old wooden hut, with a door left slightly ajar. On the entry was a poem about the work. Inside, on the back wall, was a small frame holding the missing puzzle piece.

Why?

From the artist’s perspective, the hut was the missing piece.

I’m a massive fan of detail, and after being brought along that journey, I was sold.

I think about that display often. It’s a huge part of why I was drawn to the art world in the first place.

You’re the creator of the experience someone gets to have.

Don’t take that lightly.

Give them the chance to feel what I felt at that exhibit.

Art in that form is unlike anything else.

It always gives more than it takes.

Have a wonderful week. I can’t wait to explore this path more.

Love always,

Adam