What street photography taught me about life

Street photography is an observation of life. It’s an art form that teaches us to see, to pay attention, to learn, and most of all, to be present. But it doesn’t end there. As I’m approaching eight years of shooting in the streets, I’ve realised that I’ve learned a lot more than just how to see. In fact, some of my biggest life lessons have come from doing this. Let me share them with you.

The world is a reflection of you

We all know a person who always has something to complain about or be unhappy with. The bus was two minutes late, the driver didn’t smile, the shop assistant was blunt, the coworker was moody, the restaurant was too noisy, and the list goes on. We also know a person who smiles at everyone, starts conversations with strangers, accepts that sometimes things just happen, understands that people have good and bad days, and generally has a good vibe.

These two people can experience the exact same set of events but walk away with two totally different outcomes. While they can’t change the situation, they can change their attitude, and the world will, more often than not, mirror that back.

Last year my friends and I were in beautiful Porto when we popped in to grab a pastel de nata. It was late in the evening, and the waitress working alone was clearly tired. The guy in front of me seemed grumpy, and she probably came across even worse. Neither smiled at the other. Both seemed annoyed, and the interaction was abrupt, direct, and perhaps even a little standoffish.

When it came to my turn, I opened with a smile and asked her how she was. All I got in return was, “What would you like?” I placed my order, grabbed the food, and sat down. As the evening went on, everyone else in the restaurant finished, left their trays and rubbish on the tables, and walked out. When we finished, we cleared our table, took our trays back, and handed them to her. I smiled and mentioned how tiring the job must be. Her eyes lit up, she smiled, thanked us, and explained how she’d been left alone that day, hadn’t had lunch, and hadn’t even had a chance to sit down for a minute. She thanked us again, smiled, and waved us off.

I’m by no means a saint, and I have my bad days too. But the more time I spend in the street, the more I realise that the world is a reflection of me. If I am happy, polite, patient, and positive, my interactions tend to reflect that. If I am rude, negative, irritated, or grumpy, chances are my experience with the world won’t be too dissimilar.

Ignorance, not malice

Don’t attribute malice to what can actually be ignorance. You know that feeling when you’re about to take a photo and someone walks right through the frame without a care in the world? Or you’re walking down the street and someone refuses to move out of your way, brushing past as if you weren’t there?

We’ve all experienced this, and more often than not we attribute this behaviour to malice. That’s understandable because we live in a time where rage bait beats intelligent discussion, social media fame trumps integrity, and individualism is often pushed above community. Naturally, we start assuming the worst intentions.

However, after spending thousands of hours people watching, I’ve realised that in most cases it’s ignorance, not malice. The guy who walked into your frame? He was rushing home and wasn’t paying attention. The lady who wouldn’t give way? She was completely absorbed in a podcast and simply wasn’t present.

If you start seeing what looks like malice as ignorance instead, you’ll have a much easier time dealing with these situations and, more importantly, not letting them affect your mood.

You make your luck

Street photography is mostly luck. It’s one of the few forms of photography where almost everything is out of your control. Yet how is it that some photographers are consistently better than others? We all walk the same streets, use similar gear, and quite often look for the same things. The reality is that those who put in the most effort usually get the biggest rewards.

I know photographers with day jobs who shoot more than people doing it full time. I know photographers averaging 30,000 to 40,000 steps a day, walking the city in search of interesting moments. I know photographers who are so obsessed with their craft that their whole life revolves around it. All of these people are also very lucky.

Not everyone starts from the same place. Not everyone has the same advantages. Not everyone is treated fairly. But everyone can do something to increase their chances of getting lucky.

Patience and perseverance

Street photography is a marathon. A marathon with obstacles, roadblocks, and setbacks, where you never know what’s around the next corner. You can spend days out shooting without seeing anything, then walk away with five amazing photos in a single morning. You can have a dry spell that lasts five months, then produce your best work in the sixth. Street photography has taught me many things, but patience and perseverance easily make my top three.

Things going wrong is a feature, not a bug

In street photography, things going wrong and making mistakes come with the territory. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve missed focus, tried taking a photo with the camera switched off, headed out with an empty battery, or realised I was shooting in the wrong mode.

Those are just the technical mistakes. I’ve also made mistakes with my body language, my approach to situations, and simply misread the room. Then there are the things completely outside your control. I’ve missed sunsets because of delayed trains. I’ve missed shots because a bus pulled in front of me after I’d been standing there for ten minutes with a perfectly clear view.

In short, things going wrong are part of street photography. It’s a feature of the craft, not a bug. Things going wrong go hand in hand with things going right. You can’t have one without the other, and once you accept that, it becomes much easier to deal with.

Small steps beat brute force

Eight one-hour photography sessions are better than one exhausting twelve-hour slog. Why? Because it’s much easier to commit to small chunks than dedicate an entire day. After each hour you’ll probably be itching for more. After twelve hours, you’ll most likely be drained and won’t want to touch your camera for a while.

The same applies if you’ve got a backlog of 10,000 photos waiting to be edited. Rather than trying to power through them all, burning yourself out and hating the process, commit to going through 100 photos at a time. Sure, it might take you 100 sessions, but I reckon you’ll enjoy it more, make better decisions, and not hate your life in the process.

Small, consistent steps almost always beat brute force. The more you think about it, the more you realise this philosophy applies to many aspects of life, not just photography.

Concentration is a superpower

With each decade, certain skills become more valuable while others slowly fade away. Many years ago, being a carpenter was more in demand than being a coder. Five years ago, it was very much the other way around. These days, knowing how to prompt AI effectively is probably more valuable than knowing how to process film at home.

However, there’s one skill that stands above almost everything else, and that’s the ability to focus. Given that a large chunk of the population struggles to concentrate on one thing for more than a few seconds, being able to focus deeply is a genuine superpower.

Street photography is probably one of the best ways to expose just how much, or how little, you can concentrate. Next time you’re out shooting, leave your headphones at home and see how long you can stay fully immersed, searching for photographs.

The more you do it, the longer your concentration lasts. And, dare I say it, you might find this newfound superpower spilling over into other areas of your life too.

Everything you see will be gone

I’m going to end on a bit of a downer. Everything you see around you will one day be gone. The people, the places, and the things we own. We’re often so wrapped up in everyday life that we forget just how temporary all of it really is.

Street photography is an art of observation, and once you truly understand how fleeting everything is, you begin to appreciate it far more. If it weren’t for street photography, I genuinely think it would have taken me another decade or two to realise this.

Street photography has taught me to notice and appreciate the things around me because they won’t be here forever. While that might sound a little bleak, I actually find it comforting. It’s a reminder to be present, and for me, being present comes naturally whenever there’s a camera in my hand.

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