Why Rushing Hurts Your Photography Skills

As a photographer, rushing rarely leads to creating meaningful images. If there's one life principle I vehemently oppose, it's hurry. Hurry and photography are seldom compatible. Perhaps, had I titled this post more positively, I would have chosen something like "Always Take Time to Smell the Roses."

I could delve into the theological aspects of haste, but for the context of this post, I'm focusing on its relevance to photography. The question of what it takes to become a skilled photographer often boils down to two essential skills you have to learn to master: patience and observation.

Are You a Destination or Journey Person?

Hurry is not of the devil; hurry is the devil.

I love the freedom of driving without the pressure of time constraints, i.e. hurry. While many drivers are in a rush to reach their destination, some of my most enjoyable moments behind the wheel occur when there's no time limit to dictate my journey.

This week, I took my time driving to Atlanta and back, opting for my normal unhurried pace. Yes, it does lengthen the journey, but it also better aligns with the process of creating the most images—by immersing yourself in the surroundings and observing whatever you can. I enjoy the drive along I-85, even amidst the chaos of Atlanta traffic (if you can disregard its intensity). There's always a sense that you could stop anywhere along the route and capture a unique image. Of course, the ticking clock often reminds me I can't just stop as much as I'd like, eventually I do have to get to where I'm going and back again. Most of the time, my breaks are brief and in familiar spots, such as the Atlanta Airport, or the rest areas along the way.

Thinking about the speed of modern travel, I contemplate its impact on our ability to appreciate the beauty that surrounds us. How about the vast difference between my journey today at 70 MPH in a car and the slower pace of traveling on horseback? It's actually difficult to fathom today, almost beyond ability to understand. Horses can only cover around 35-45 miles a day, whereas I traveled over 200 miles in just a few hours. Yet, I wonder, how much did the individual on horseback truly see along the way? While it may have taken them 2-3 days to travel from Auburn to Atlanta—a considerable amount of time—it's likely they encountered a richness of sights that we often miss on today's interstates. I imagine they had rest areas with inviting benches for leisurely lunches and moments of respite, just like the one below I found in Atlanta.

Perhaps a more fitting analogy for today's world lies in comparing travel by car to travel by motorcycle. When you're on a motorcycle, you're exposed to the elements, and your senses are heightened. You can perceive shifts in temperature as you ascend or descend on the road, and the scents of flowers and foliage are distinct, unlike the enclosed environment of a car.

Well, perhaps you can't experience the fragrance of roses as intensely as if you were standing amidst the rose bushes, but on a motorcycle, you can still appreciate their scent in a manner distinct from traveling by car. Riding a motorcycle is a slower-paced experience that necessitates more frequent stops and forces you to slow down. This is how I view traveling in a car—like being on a motorcycle but with walls and a seat-belt.

Despite it being late in the spring flower season in the south, some blooms are still captivating. The irises are nearly spent, but I managed to gather a few, including the roses from our yard, before leaving on my journey to Atlanta. Spring is such a magical time.

On my return trip from Atlanta, I made a stop at the recently renovated Alabama rest area near the Georgia state line. They reconstructed this rest area about a year ago, and it has since become a wonderful stopping point to just enjoy the open air. It has a great bit of open space, nice shaded areas, and is generally a quiet and peaceful stopping point.

Someone once told me there are two kinds of people in this world, those who enjoy the journey and those who enjoy the destination. When I contemplate these personality types, I recognize their stark differences. A journey is like saying, "I've got a life goal, and while I'm aiming for it, if I don't reach it, I'll still find joy in the everyday." On the flip side, a destination is a solid target; you're determined to reach it no matter what obstacles come your way.

Personally, I align way more with the journey perspective; the destination has always been secondary to me, although it took me many years to realize this. I've found that photography doesn't mesh well with a strictly destination-focused mindset, yet I understand both viewpoints have their merits and drawbacks. Each requires a degree of compromise, especially if you are traveling together. If you are a destination person, maybe slow down a bit and smell the roses a little more often and if you're traveling with a journey person, be patient, the "hurry-up" is the kiss of death to them.

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