Over the years I've realized that the older I get, the more I start wondering whether a picture is worth taking or not.
Six or seven years ago you'd see me walking around with my camera (because I'd take it everywhere), trying to capture everything, because, in my eyes, there was always something going on.
Often the pictures were alright, the composition and exposure were technically correct, but the image itself wasn't necessarily interesting.
Back then that didn't matter to me, I took them for the sake of capturing those memories, so I would be able to look at them at later times in my life.
Growing as a photographer I began to notice that I was no longer satisfied with the pictures I took. Although in practice not much had changed.
My technical knowledge had only improved. And I'd still go out, explore the city and climb on some rooftops. I'd still travel and capture beautiful sceneries. But I'd become less happy with the results.
This eventually led to a period in which I'd leave my camera behind most of the time. I still loved photography, but carrying the camera around more and more started to feel like a burden.
Luckily I started to understand that not every picture I took would be my greatest shot. It didn't have to be, it was enough to be something that looked
interesting to me. Secondly, I realized that I was more productive and happy with the results if I dedicated time specifically to photography,
instead of trying to combine it with everything else.
Yesterday I went to the harbor of Ghent, with the sole purpose of exploring the area, finding some interesting places and good compositions.
Somehow, curious me ended up in a huge, dirty warehouse filled with piles of grind and sand, layers of dust covering every surface.
An odd sight I don't recall having seen before. My goal was to capture the weird shapes and curves, as well as to emphasize the scale of the whole scene.
I had a couple of reasons to go black and white for these images:
With no one around (except for some pigeons) and old things scattered everywhere, the whole area looked as if it could have been the same for the past 50 or 60 years, so I tried to make the photos as timeless as the place felt like.
Furthermore, leaving out the colors seemed to emphasize the shapes and silhouettes even more.
To be fair, it wasn't easy to find decent compositions, and I've probably taken better pictures, but nonetheless, I felt content with how I'd spent my time. I'm happy I've come to a point where the journey itself is enough to motivate me to keep going.