Behind the Lens: Learning to Fail

If someone asked me how many mistakes I've made with a camera...

I honestly couldn't give you an answer.

Thousands.

Maybe tens of thousands.

I've missed focus.

I've forgotten to change settings.

I've accidentally bumped dials without realizing it.

I've overexposed photographs.

Underexposed others.

I've gone home convinced I had captured the perfect moment, only to discover I had made a mistake that almost ruined it.

One afternoon, I was photographing an osprey from one side of the pond.

When it flew across the water, I ran to the other side so I wouldn't lose it.

I found it again.

Raised my camera.

Started shooting.

I was excited.

I knew I had captured something special.

Later that evening, I opened the images in Lightroom.

Everything was blue.

Somewhere between running around the pond and lifting my camera back to my eye, my white balance had somehow been changed to fluorescent.

My heart sank.

I thought I had lost the photograph.

Thankfully, I shoot in RAW.

A few adjustments later, the image came back to life.

It eventually became one of the photographs I submitted to the county fair.

Years ago, I probably would have seen that as proof that I wasn't good enough.

Today...

I see it as another lesson.

Because photography has taught me something that reaches far beyond cameras.

Failure is one of the greatest teachers we'll ever have.

People see the finished photograph.

They don't see everything it takes to create it.

They don't see me planting my feet before I ever lift the camera.

Tucking my elbows against my body to make myself as steady as possible.

Thinking about where the light is coming from.

Watching the background.

Looking at distractions around my subject.

Checking my shutter speed.

Making sure my aperture is where I want it.

Making sure my ISO won't introduce unnecessary noise.

Checking my exposure.

Watching the bird.

Trying to predict where it's going next.

Trying to remember every lesson I've learned from every mistake I've made before.

Sometimes all of that comes together.

Sometimes it doesn't.

Sometimes the bird flies before I'm ready.

Sometimes I forget a setting.

Sometimes I make every decision correctly...

And I still miss the shot.

That's photography.

Every time I press the shutter, I'm making dozens of decisions in only a few seconds.

Sometimes I have time to think.

Sometimes instinct has to take over.

Sometimes I simply trust what I know...

Take the photograph...

And hope.

Because wildlife doesn't wait for me to get everything perfect.

Life doesn't either.

The funny thing is...

I never went to photography school.

Nobody handed me a manual that taught me how to photograph wildlife.

Everything I've learned has come from doing.

From asking questions.

From watching photographers better than me.

From listening to critiques.

From making mistakes.

Lots of mistakes.

Enough mistakes that somewhere along the way they stopped feeling like failures...

And started feeling like lessons.

I think that's true outside of photography too.

We all fail.

Maybe not with cameras.

Maybe with relationships.

A career.

Parenting.

School.

Our health.

Life has a way of reminding us that none of us get everything right the first time.

Sometimes we convince ourselves that everyone else has it figured out.

That we're the only ones struggling.

The only ones falling short.

The only ones failing.

But we're not.

Every person you admire has failed.

Probably more times than you'll ever know.

The difference isn't who fails.

The difference is what happens next.

Do we let failure convince us to stop?

Or do we learn something from it?

Charge the battery.

Check our settings.

Walk back outside.

And take another photograph.

I still make mistakes.

Probably more often than I'd like to admit.

I still forget settings.

I still miss focus.

I still come home with photographs that never see the light of day.

And I'm okay with that now.

Because every photograph I'm proud of today exists because of dozens that weren't.

Every mistake taught me something.

Every failure made me a little more patient.

A little more observant.

A little more prepared for the next opportunity.

Maybe that's why I don't fear failure the way I used to.

Failure didn't make me a worse photographer.

It taught me how to become one.

And maybe life works the same way.

Maybe we're not defined by the mistakes we make.

Maybe we're defined by our willingness to learn from them, stand back up, and keep pressing the shutter.