How I Discovered, Through Photography, My Own Way of Seeing the World

For a long time, I didn’t think of the way I relate to the world as something personal.

I didn’t call it a way of seeing. I didn’t call it a quality.
It was simply how I moved through things.
And how things reached me.

Photography came into my life later, in 2015.

At the beginning, I thought photography was about learning to look better. Sharper. More accurately. I focused on technique, composition, light, timing. All the usual things you can name, practice, improve.

And then, at some point, without trying to, I started recognizing myself in the images I was making.
Not as an idea.
More like a familiar feeling that kept returning.

I’m drawn to small things. Ordinary things.
A branch. A detail in nature you could easily pass by.

Nothing spectacular.
Nothing meant to impress.

Empty spaces that still feel inhabited. Ordinary moments that seem quiet at first, but reveal something if you stay with them long enough.

Something is definitely already there, something that delights me.
A subtle pull.
A quiet fascination.
As if something exists beyond what we usually notice. Beyond what meets the eye.

I don’t try to define it.
This wasn’t a style decision.
It was a kind of recognition.

When I look at my photographs, there’s often a similar atmosphere.
Soft. Calm. Containing.
Sometimes gentle and welcoming. Sometimes slightly dreamlike, as if the image quietly pierces the habitual way of seeing.

I don’t construct this.
I don’t aim for it.
I simply recognize it.

It feels connected to how I am.
To my rhythm.
To a certain slowness.
To a sensitivity that notices small signals instead of big statements.

At some point, photography stopped being a craft for me and became a form of noticing.

Recently, I came across a sentence that stayed with me.
Someone reflecting on Humboldt’s work wrote: “I feel, therefore I understand.”

This resonates deeply with how photography lives in my life.

Understanding doesn’t come first.
Feeling does.
Staying with what draws me, without rushing to explain it, is what allows something to become clear.

Photography, in this sense, becomes a way of noticing.
Of recognizing a way of being that was already there, long before I knew how to name it.

Because of this, I’m less interested in teaching people how to make “better” images, and more interested in helping them notice how they see. What guides their attention. What shapes their choices. What personal history is quietly present in every frame they make.

From time to time, I feel the need to share this space with others.
Not to teach.
Not to explain.
Just to accompany. To guide gently. To hold a certain pace and atmosphere.

If you’re curious about your own way of seeing, not as a skill to optimize, but as a relationship to yourself and the world, photography can be a precise and honest companion. All you need in this sense is time, attention, and the willingness to notice yourself in the act of looking.

If this way of seeing resonates with you, we might, at some point, find ourselves in the same place.
With our phones on airplane mode 😏 ready to photograph.
Paying attention to what quietly asks to be met.