Photographers can be a bit obsessive. We’ll spend twenty minutes editing a single strand of hair in post, or re-shoot an entire session because something was off. Somewhere along the way, “perfect” became the goal, even when what we loved most about photography in the beginning was its unpredictability.
But here’s the thing: some of the best photos I’ve ever taken weren’t the result of control. They were the result of letting go.
I recall a portrait session where the sky in the distance featured beautiful, moody clouds from the rain earlier that morning. The weather report promised the storm had passed. The sun agreed, glowing softly through the lingering clouds, creating that dreamy, diffused light photographers adore. Then, out of nowhere, the sky shifted again. What began as a drizzle quickly turned into buckets of rain.
The senior I was photographing didn’t run for cover. She danced in it. My lighting was gone. The wind made additional lighting gear impossible. And yet, that session remains one of my favorites, spontaneous, wild, and completely unplanned.
It’s funny how, when I stop chasing rules and the highest standards of technique, something else emerges, something more meaningful. A reflection that sneaks into the frame and adds a layer you couldn’t have staged. A child blinking just as the light shifts, creating a softer, truer story than any posed version ever could.
Perfection has its place, of course, especially in product photography, but when it comes to art, perfection can be a bit of a thief. It steals spontaneity. It robs your images of the happy accidents that remind us why we picked up a camera in the first place. And worst of all, it can convince us that an image’s worth is measured in technical precision rather than emotional truth.
I’ve judged plenty of photographs that were technically flawless but left me unmoved. And I’ve seen others, slightly off, that made me feel something. Those are the ones that linger. The ones that whisper, “I’m not perfect, but I’m authentic.”
So, as you head into a new year behind the lens, give yourself permission to let go a little. Tilt the frame. Stay in the rain. Don’t delete that shot just because it’s not perfect; ask yourself if it says something instead. There’s a beauty in imperfection that perfection will never know.
After all, photography isn’t about proving control; it’s about capturing what makes us wonder. Here’s to 2026: the year of beautiful mistakes, bold experiments, and images that might not be perfect… but are perfectly you.
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