I gave up!
7 May 2026
In October 2025, I gave up photography entirely. Now, more than six months later, I'm slowly getting back into it. In this article, I'm exploring the reasons behind my giving up—namely, expecting too much of myself and the deteriorating quality of my work—and searching for ways to avoid this in the future. While this piece is a personal introspection, I hope the insights I draw from it might help others.
If you visited this site after mid-October 2025 you were redirected to a short message on another one of my pages. There, the following text was available: "I'm in a creative hiatus and have (temporarily) disabled my creative websites […]. I'm not sure when or if I'll resume my creative activities."
This was, quite frankly, the result of me giving up. Not just the OCOLOY (One Camera, One Lens, One Year) project, not "just" photography. No, every single creative endeavour. That sounds drastic, and it was.
There were many circumstances that finally led to that decision. I'm sure that upon close inspection, it would be possible to find numerous reasons, but there was just one single cause that I could and can outline as /the/ final straw:
My work is not good enough.
Not good enough to share, not good enough to be seen; not even good enough to have been created in the first place.
And so I switched off my creative website and abandoned my social media accounts. I put my cameras and everything else related to photography away and out of sight. Only after some months did I slowly start taking some personal photos with my Minolta SR-T 303. More so, it was to finish the film than to take pictures.
A good deal of time passed before I first took my Ricoh GR IIIx with me outside. I hadn't taken any photos. But that evening, I sat in a coffee shop for about half an hour, and for a few minutes, I started it up and looked through some of my most recent photos (meaning, photos older than four months at that point). Photos I had never transferred to my computer and that I had never looked at before. Alongside some autumn pictures I took in mid-October were family photos. Not pictures I am particularly proud of, but nevertheless, images that spoke to me because of the memories I had captured. I'm glad I took them. I'm glad I have them.
This was the turning point after which I slowly started packing the Minolta more often. I also brought out my sling camera bag again. In early April, after almost half a year, I took my first photos with the Ricoh on Eastern with the family.
The upward trend continues: I almost always carry the GR IIIx around, often also either the SR-T or my Rolleicord. I am taking photos more often now, not just during family gatherings. However, with the exception of one occasion when I needed to take product photos to sell some old stuff online, I haven't touched my Fujifilm kit. I haven't gone out shooting either. So, I feel I am still a very long way from where I was about eight months ago.
But, do I want to go back?
Study the past, if you would divine the future. (Confucius)
To define a direction for my photography, I first need to understand why I gave up and why I came to the conclusion that what I was creating was not good enough.
To start with, I strongly disagree that there is a minimum standard of quality a work should possess for publication (at least online; print might be a different story, but who is to decide that?). Firstly, I don't think anyone would be capable of judging all work, and even if they could, the past has shown that this is a very bad idea. Secondly, public discourse is an important way to improve (though not the only one), and thirdly, I believe that the act of publishing a piece of work, in some degree, finalises it (I thought about this topic extensively a few years ago and plan to publish an article about it in the future).
Only I should be allowed to restrict what gets published. Therefore, the limit must come from within me. I demand a certain standard for publishing a photo, and I don't think that is inherently wrong. It is merely important that this standard is not too high—that it is achievable. Otherwise, it will kill motivation, and consequently, creativity itself.
Was this the reason I gave up? Not entirely, perhaps, but to a large extent, yes. This means that it is important for me to calibrate my expectations. And to realise when I am expecting too much of myself and then correct course.
The other part was that my work had actually gotten worse (by my subjective judging, obviously). At least that's what I thought when I started writing this paragraph. Then I paused to look at the photos I had taken between August and October last year. To my surprise, the average quality was significantly higher than I had anticipated.
What I can say, especially taking into account the photos I published as part of my OCOLOY blog posts, is that while there are some photos I wouldn't publish today, I am overall satisfied with the quality. Similarly, I do recognise a decline in quality at the end of September and in October. But this is not surprising because: 1. In August and September, I was on holiday for a total of four weeks, and naturally, I took countless pictures. I do believe in creative exhaustion, and I have noticed it after previous holidays as well. 2. At the end of September, I was very stressed about capturing enough photos for my OCOLOY challenge—photos that I "paused" during my holidays. Due to additional tasks, I apparently only got outside on the last two days of the month. While I can handle pressure very well, it seems my creativity suffered. Or perhaps, I just had bad days. 3. With the knowledge that I had failed the OCOLOY September challenge, October also started poorly. And then there is the elephant in the room:
Constant (i.e. (strictly) monotonically increasing) growth is a myth. Everything always grows in stages. Sometimes it gets worse, but (hopefully) more often it increases.
Therefore, having a setback in creative growth is not only unavoidable but also necessary. This is how one grows. Expecting constantly improving quality in the photos is impossible. I have some images from July and August (I am currently thinking of two street scenes) that I can now categorise as huge growth. Therefore, expecting such advancements in September or October would be naive. Consequently, I arrive at the same conclusion as before:
It is important for me, to calibrate my expectations. To realise, when I'm expecting too much of myself and then correct course.
How can I achieve this? Reflection. Actively looking back at (and not just thinking about) the work I created during the last months and years. Not just the "bangers" that made it into a "top 5 list". But more broadly all pictures I made e.g. 18 months ago, 12 months ago, 6 months ago. Growth does not only shows itself in the best work, it also hides in the average quality. In certain creative ideas. In the care, that has been taken, when capturing a scene. Additionally, remembering that growth is a slow process. It takes time (just like everything else).
This also aligns with a video titled "When you feel like Giving Up" by Sean Tucker I've watched multiple times during the last year. In such situations, he recommends the following actions:
- Celebrate your growth
- Remind yourself why you love what you do
- Recommit yourself to the work
- Give yourself a fresh start
For the second step, he recommends looking at work by your favourite artists. The goal isn't to compare yourself to them, but rather to gain inspiration, motivation, and a clearer view of further development opportunities. Finally, he advises developing a certain tenacity in your creative approach. There will be times when things are very successful and you feel like you're making swift progress. However, there will also be times that feel like stepping backwards. It is important to persevere through these periods.
So, what now? Analysis complete, everything back to normal? No, because there is one aspect that I cannot ignore. The OCOLOY project was less enjoyable for me than I had expected. There were times when I truly regretted it. Photography is neither my job nor my online hobby, so my time is limited. In some months, this meant it was very challenging to get enough publishable quality pictures. There were multiple months when I ended with only ten /good/ photos, just enough for the monthly review where I intended to publish ten. This was demotivating and put a kind of pressure on me that ultimately pushed me to my limit. The setup of the challenge, as simple as it sounded, was ultimately unhelpful, but rather damaging. My photography interests are too diverse for the GR's 40mm equivalent focal length, especially when I factored in the additional side quests I created for myself.
So, no projects anymore? No challenges? Neither. I think the solution is a bit different: no deadlines. At least not deadlines that are already foreseeably difficult to keep or that limit the time needed to fully immerse myself in a project or challenge. But I do want to do projects—even larger ones—with more advance planning and clearer goals. For example, I can see myself publishing a zine someday. However, the first steps would obviously be to get back out, get back to developing, and to publishing (at least here, I'm more and more adverse to social media platforms).
The path back to photographing street or nature is still very, very long. It might take several more weeks or even months. I don't know at this point and wouldn't dare give any estimate. For the next time, I will let my motivation evolve naturally.
Therefore, there may still be several months before I publish another blog post. I don't expect anyone to stick around. I don't want to create art solely to "entertain" others. I want to take photos that I like, that inspire me further, and that push me beyond my current capabilities. You are, of course, invited to be part of the journey, but be aware that it will be a long one.
However, I am truly open to connecting and discussing photography and beyond with others (yes, including you!). If you would like to get in touch, please do not hesitate to reach out!