Hi friends,

"The whole secret in searching for your own voice is to have faith in your deepest eccentricities, your dumbest banalities, your epic romanticism. Accept what’s inherently inside of you, without fear."

That’s musician Jeff Buckley. I heard it recently and haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

There’s a version of creative advice that tells you to study the greats, learn the rules, master the craft. And that’s not wrong. But Buckley is pointing at something else. He’s saying that the thing that makes your work yours isn’t something you find outside of yourself. It’s already in there. It’s in the strange impulses and in the things you’re fascinated by to the point that it almost embarrasses you. That stuff isn’t a bug in your creative system. It’s the whole point. You may assume that the way you see things is perfectly ordinary and boring, but it’s not.

I’ve been thinking about this in the context of photography, but I’ve also been thinking about it through my other creative life. I’ve not mentioned it here often, because I wasn’t sure it belonged in this newsletter. For the past five years, I’ve been performing improv comedy on stage in Amsterdam. I train weekly, I perform multiple times a month in various countries, and it has quietly become one of the most important parts of my creative practice. And it has impacted my confidence as a photographer and writer tremendously as well.

In improv, there’s a teacher and performer named Matt Walsh who put it this way when talking about the insecurities that beginner improvisers may feel, especially in a scene about a topic they aren’t very familiar with:

"If you’re trying to be funny, that’s where you get in trouble. You are enough. You don’t have to put on a show or develop tons more knowledge or fake anything. If you’re in a scene on stage, you have plenty of information in your brain and you have plenty of life experience, so just use that and respond how you would respond. It’s about coming to terms with: I know enough, and I can handle any situation, because I can revert back to how I myself would behave in any situation."

Buckley and Walsh are saying the same thing. You are enough. You know enough. You are uniquely yourself, and the actual work you have to do is making the mental switch to acknowledge that and let it guide you.

More and more, I’ve been letting these two sides of my creative life talk to each other. You can see it in my narrative video series The Chain, and in the photography videos I’ve been making that have a comedic twist. It took me a while to allow myself to blend these worlds, but once I did it started to feel more like me.

This is also what guided my approach to the next photo book I’m working on now, shot in Ukraine last summer. When I went there, I knew I wasn’t going to photograph the war the way conflict photographers do with a focus on the destruction, the frontlines, the violence. That work is vital, and I have deep respect for the photographers who do it. But I knew it wasn’t me. It’s not what I’m drawn to, and I’m probably too scared to do that work as well.

What I am drawn to is noticing the small details of daily life and the environment of home. A family in the countryside, holding onto routines. The quiet power of normalcy as an act of resistance. Cooking, spending time laughing around a table, visiting a burial place on the birthday of a lost son. A younger version of me might have felt like I should photograph the more obvious subject, the more dramatic story. But leaning into what I was actually drawn to allowed me to be my full self in the work. That’s when the pictures started to feel true.

I see this in my client work too. A big part of what I do is photograph executives and teams for companies. Portraits for websites, recruiting, press. I love this work. I love meeting the people, helping them feel seen. But for years, I put pressure on myself to shoot in the polished “headshot” style I thought clients expected. Clean lighting setups, safe poses, technical precision. It was stressful, because I was trying to be someone I’m not.

I’m not a purely technical photographer who memorizes light ratios. I’m a creative storyteller. And once I accepted that and stopped performing a version of photographer I thought I was supposed to be, that’s when the sessions became fun. The results got better.

My favorite moment in any corporate shoot is when someone walks in, clearly dreading it, and says something like "I’m really awkward in photos" or "I’m just not photogenic." I calm them down, bring some lightness into the room, and because I shoot tethered, I can show them within minutes that they actually look great. I get to watch their shoulders drop. I get to hear them say, "Oh wow, okay, that’s... actually... nice?"

More than once, someone has told me it’s the first picture of themselves they’ve ever liked. That means so much to me, every time.

The most powerful experience of this kind was when a comedian I photographed for The Best Medicine told me the portrait I made was the first photo in years they could show their mother. One where they looked healthy and happy, after a long stretch of struggling. When I think back to that moment, I still have to swallow down tears. What a privilege, to be able to give someone that.

You may not be the most technically advanced photographer. But you are the only expert on seeing the world through your eyes. No one else has your specific brain, your specific history, your specific set of obsessions and blind spots and tender places.

If there are stories you want to tell, don’t wait until you feel ready. Don’t hold back because you think you’re not good enough yet. Make the work. Try to document what you see the best you can. You’ll get technically better with time. You already have a point of view now, and it’s yours. You just have to stop apologizing for it.

Listen to Jeff: Have faith in your deepest eccentricities. Your dumbest banalities. Your epic romanticism.

Listen to Matt: Accept what’s already inside of you, without fear.

Do you know anyone who needs to read this essay? I’d really appreciate it if you’re share it with at least one friend. It helps Process going and growing.

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See you next Sunday,

Wesley

P.S. I first heard the Buckley quote on one of my favorite podcasts, 60 Songs That Explain the ‘90s by Rob Harvilla. If you don’t know it, it’s a joy—funny, deeply researched, and full of moments like this one. The Matt Walsh quote is from an episode of Off Camera, with Sam Jones.

Quick Notes

• Interview — I sat down with Matt Jacob on The Mood Podcast for a lovely and wide-ranging conversation about creativity, what fuels me, and how I think about my work. [Listen here.]

• New Videos — All five episodes of my comedic video series The Chain are now collected in a [YouTube playlist]. Next week: the season finale, where we finally find out who’s been sending the assignments and why. If you haven’t seen it yet, here’s the premise: A photographer (me!) gets a mysterious text message. What follows is a series of strange assignments from an unknown sender, each one leading to the next, each one pulling him deeper into something he doesn’t quite understand. It’s a deadpan surrealist comedy about creativity, confusion, and trying to figure out what the hell is going on.

Your Turn — Giveaway

Leave a comment and share with us: What's something you're drawn to that you've downplayed or second-guessed? A subject you keep returning to but thought was too simple or not "serious" enough. It can be a type of light, a recurring subject, a style you've been afraid to lean into, or an interest you thought didn't belong in your work. I'll randomly pick one person to receive a photo book from my collection + some goodies from my studio and rare expired film.

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This Week’s Camera + Tools

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