Why I Started Taking Photos
A story about purpose, self-image, and going all-in on hobbies
I didn’t start taking photos because I wanted to be a photographer.
I started because I was in a bit of a personal slump: low self-esteem, overworked, disconnected from my friends, struggling in the dating world, and generally feeling like I had no sense of direction beyond my job title. I wasn’t happy with how I looked, I didn’t feel like I had a creative outlet, and honestly—I just needed something that felt like mine.
Now, I’ve always been a hobbyist. And by hobbyist, I mean someone who throws themselves headfirst into a new obsession every few months like it’s a personality trait. Learn a new language? Let’s try three. Monthly book challenges? Sure. Tarot? Got the deck. AI art? I even made an entire Instagram profile for that one.
So yeah, when photography entered the picture (pun absolutely intended), it was supposed to be another one of those hobbies. Something to distract me for a while until I found the next shiny thing.
But if you know me, you know I don’t do “kinda” — I go all in.
So naturally, I decided to buy what the internet called “the best camera” for someone wanting to really get into photography. Enter: the Sony A7C. A compact full-frame mirrorless camera with interchangeable lenses. Simple, portable, powerful.
And of course, I couldn’t stop there—I bought three lenses, and dropped hundreds on a full photography course from one of my favorite creators, Pat Kay. I was now about $5000 deep into a hobby I hadn’t even proven I liked yet. No pressure, right?
“I was now $5000 deep into a hobby I hadn’t even proven I liked yet. No pressure, right?”
I threw myself into the learning. I watched YouTube videos for hours: composition techniques, lighting theory, gear breakdowns, street POVs, editing workflows, you name it.
At first, I shot anything and everything: my dog (patient king), my fridge (not proud of it), the window light hitting my floor, my hometown streets, my door, again (yes, multiple times). Most of it was… not good. But I was figuring it out.
okay… low key still love these images, but a little too hard on the editing clearly
I shot in manual mode from day one—not because I was ready, but because I liked the feeling of control, of problem-solving through a lens. Slowly but surely, I started understanding how to manipulate light, frame a shot, and most importantly, tell a story.
That’s when I stumbled into street photography—and something clicked.
There was something poetic and unscripted about it. No posed smiles. No perfectly lit scenes. Just real people, in real places, living real life.
The genre felt raw but full of possibility, like a conversation you accidentally overheard and couldn’t stop thinking about. I liked that there was room to experiment. Room to get weird, to get quiet, to find beauty in the in-between. Street photography gave me permission to notice—to appreciate the way someone walks with intention or how the weight of a moment sits on a stranger’s face. I wanted to become like Faizal Westcott, Roman Fox, and the legend Peter McKinnon. The passion grew as I started buying photography books… and so did my bank account begin to tremble.
But the real shift came when I got a tripod.
At first, I just wanted to practice framing and exposure—so I used myself as the model. I didn’t like the results. In fact, I hated seeing myself. I avoided eye contact with the lens and with the screen.
But I kept shooting. And the more I photographed myself—not in an “influencer” way, but in a “let’s learn this craft” way—the more I started to… soften.
To see myself not as a harsh critic, but as a subject. A human. A work in progress.
From unsure, stiff and learning to model for Vogue. Thanks Golden Hour!
Over time, something strange started happening. My portraits started improving—and so did the way I looked at myself.
I started feeling proud of what I was creating. I started liking the way I looked—not because I suddenly transformed, but because the way I framed myself changed.
I was beginning to feel confident. Maybe even… attractive?
Photography began as a distraction, but it became a mirror—sometimes honest, sometimes harsh, but ultimately healing. It gave me a new way to express myself, to slow down, and to see the world, and myself, with more compassion.
I’m still learning. Still experimenting. Still chasing light in crowded cities and quiet corners. But somewhere between shutter clicks and street corners, I found a small piece of myself.
And honestly? That’s worth more than any lens.
Let’s keep chasing beauty in the everyday.
Have you ever picked up something new just to feel a little more you?
Send me a message me on Instagram → @adrianlemen
