Still shooting for myself

There’s a weird pressure that creeps in once people start paying attention to your work. You feel like every photo needs to prove something. Like it has to be part of a series. Or tell a story. Or look good in a grid. And before you know it, you’re not making the kind of work you used to make. You’re making what you think you’re supposed to.

I’ve definitely felt that. Especially as I’ve grown slightly visible in the erotic photography world. There’s this quiet expectation to perform a certain kind of image. To deliver a certain aesthetic. But I didn’t start shooting because I wanted to meet expectations. I started shooting because I was curious. Because I wanted to see things differently. Because it helped me feel more like myself.

That’s why I still shoot for myself. Even now. Even when no one’s watching. Even when the photo won’t get posted or printed or turned into anything. Sometimes I just need to create without a plan. Without pressure. Without thinking about what someone else will think.

Some of my favorite images have come out of those moments. When it’s just me and a camera and a quiet room. No agenda. No timeline. Just light and skin and space to feel whatever shows up. That’s when I remember why I started in the first place.

Shooting for yourself doesn’t mean you don’t care about the work. It means you care enough not to let it get diluted. It means you’re still willing to listen to your instincts. To stay weird. To stay soft. To stay in love with the process, even when the outcome is uncertain.

So yeah, I still shoot for myself. I think I always will. It’s how I stay connected to what matters. It’s how I remember that art doesn’t always have to be seen to be real.