I often get asked whether I went to school for photography. The answer is no. My background is not in art or design; I studied political science. The only formal art class I ever enrolled in was ceramics, and I dropped it after a single session. So, my photography journey was not the result of structured academic learning but rather something that happened organically over time.
My interest in cameras began when I wanted to make GIFs. At the time, I didn’t think of myself as a photographer, and my Canon 7D was mainly used for short video clips. GIFs felt like a perfect format for expressing small, subtle movements, and I found a certain beauty in capturing those moments. The learning curve was steep. I didn’t have the vocabulary or foundational knowledge to understand concepts like ISO, aperture, or shutter speed. But once companies began hiring me to create GIFs, the pressure increased. They started asking me to produce visual content that I didn’t fully know how to make. That’s when I turned to YouTube.
YouTube became my silent instructor, mentor, and creative partner. While there are plenty of blogs and books about photography, I found YouTube to be one of the most accessible and engaging places to learn. With its rich diversity of content, you can watch how someone edits an image, hear them explain a technique, and sometimes even follow along with the same files they’re using. It made photography feel less intimidating and more achievable. There’s something comforting about watching a real person walk through a process that once felt mysterious.
Initially, my search for tutorials was entirely video-focused. I wasn’t actively looking for photography lessons. I just needed to know how to create something, and YouTube was the quickest solution. But over time, as I got more comfortable with my camera, I found myself drawn to the still-image side of visual storytelling. This shift came with a new set of challenges and a different style of tutorials. Photography tutorials felt slower, more thoughtful, and often more about the person than the technique. They were usually longer, sometimes filled with personal anecdotes, and often leaned on the charisma of the presenter. Even when a tutorial wasn’t technically dense, it might still provide useful insights about mindset, perspective, or workflow.
One thing I’ve learned from watching countless photography videos is that even if you think you understand a particular topic, there’s always something new to uncover. You might already know how to use tone curves in Lightroom, but someone else’s approach might reveal a subtle trick or method that enhances your understanding. I find that I constantly revisit familiar tools with a fresh perspective after watching someone else demonstrate their use. The most basic tools can be surprisingly deep when viewed through another person’s creative lens.
Photography, for me, has always been a process of curiosity. That curiosity fuels the hours I’ve spent watching tutorials, experimenting with edits, and trying new camera settings. I didn’t arrive at my current skill level because I had all the answers from the start. I got here by asking questions, failing a lot, and staying open to learning. YouTube tutorials played a huge role in that journey. Some were polished and professional, others were quirky and low-budget. But every single one added something to my knowledge base.
I also think there’s a specific kind of vulnerability that comes with learning in public. When you don’t have a formal education in a subject, it’s easy to feel like an impostor. That feeling can creep in when you’re working with clients or presenting your work. But what YouTube showed me is that many talented creators are self-taught. They’ve built careers through experimentation, resourcefulness, and shared knowledge. Watching others learn and grow on camera helped normalize my journey and made me feel less alone.
Over the years, I’ve gathered a list of YouTube tutorials that I return to again and again. They’ve helped me sharpen my editing, better understand lighting, and think more deeply about composition. Some of them cover specific techniques like skin tone correction or low-light shooting. Others are more conceptual, showing how different photographers approach the same subject. All of them have added something meaningful to my growth as a visual artist.
In the following sections, I’ll walk you through seven tutorials that have made a real difference in how I approach photography. Each one brought something unique to my process, whether it was a practical tip, a creative insight, or simply a different way of thinking. These aren’t just videos I watched once and moved on from. They’re ones I’ve revisited, taken notes on, and sometimes even incorporated into my teaching when friends ask for help. They’ve helped me stay inspired and curious, which is, I think, the most important thing when learning any craft.
I didn’t plan to become a photographer. I didn’t study it in school or take professional workshops. But I did spend a lot of time trying to figure things out, and a big part of that process involved sitting in front of a screen with a cup of coffee and a dozen YouTube tabs open. I would pause and rewind sections, try things in Lightroom or Photoshop, then go back to the video when I got stuck. It wasn’t glamorous, but it worked.
This kind of learning isn’t linear. Some days I’d feel like I was finally getting the hang of things. Other days, I’d get completely overwhelmed. But the act of showing up, again and again, helped me build a foundation. I learned how to troubleshoot problems, experiment with different styles, and most importantly, trust my instincts.
Another thing I’ve noticed is that the photography YouTube space is constantly evolving. Creators update their techniques, software tools change, and new styles emerge. This means that even if you feel like you’ve “mastered” a topic, there’s always room to go deeper. And because so many creators share their work and knowledge openly, it’s possible to continue growing without hitting a wall.
Of course, not every video is helpful. Some are thinly veiled advertisements, others are more about personality than teaching. I’ve learned to recognize the signs quickly—if a video spends five minutes on an intro or immediately tries to sell me a preset pack, I usually click away. But when I find someone who genuinely wants to teach and share, it feels like discovering a treasure chest.
In recent months, I’ve started to refine my process. Instead of jumping into random tutorials, I try to be more intentional. If I’m struggling with portraits, I’ll look for videos on skin tone correction or posing. If I’m exploring a new editing style, I’ll search for relevant color grading techniques. This focused approach helps me avoid burnout and keeps my learning on track.
Still, there’s something magical about stumbling upon a tutorial you didn’t know you needed. That happened with one of the Lightroom features I’ll discuss later. I thought I knew the software well, but one short video revealed a tool that completely changed how I edited photos. It’s moments like these that remind me why I keep coming back to YouTube as a resource. It’s not just about learning—it’s about rediscovering and refreshing your passion.
That’s why I wanted to share these tutorials in detail. Not just to recommend some helpful videos but to offer a window into how they shaped my thinking and improved my skills. Everyone’s learning path is different, but I believe there’s something valuable in seeing how another person navigates the creative process. Especially when that person started from scratch, just like you might be doing now.
In the next part, I’ll dive into specific tutorials and explain what makes each one useful, starting with tone curves in Lightroom and moving through to more complex editing and shooting techniques. Whether you’re brand new to photography or someone looking to refine your approach, I hope these reflections offer something useful. At the very least, I hope they encourage you to stay curious, stay open, and keep learning—one video at a time.
Revisiting Tone Curves and Editing with a Curious Eye
One of the most practical and versatile tools in Lightroom is the tone curve. I’d used it many times before I even fully understood what it did. At first, I’d move the line around based on what looked good rather than thinking of it as a mathematical representation of tones in the image. Watching a YouTube tutorial on tone curves shifted that completely for me. The presenter broke down how each section of the curve controls shadows, midtones, and highlights, and how moving it affects contrast and overall brightness in a much more precise way than sliders do.
What surprised me most was that, even though I thought I knew how to use tone curves, I hadn’t realized how much power they gave me over the feel of an image. You can use them to add subtle contrast or dramatic punch. You can even create faded film-like effects or control color channels individually for cinematic color grading. It wasn’t just about making a photo brighter or darker it was about shaping the mood, the tone, and even the story within the image.
One technique that stood out involved using multiple control points to shape the curve in a more nuanced way. Instead of simply dragging the curve into an S-shape for contrast, the tutorial showed how to add four or five points to isolate the darkest shadows, the brightest highlights, and the zones in between. This gave me more control and helped me avoid blowing out details or crushing shadows.
Another concept I appreciated was the comparison between parametric and point curves. I’d always defaulted to the point curve because it felt more visual, but seeing the parametric version in action helped me realize it could be just as effective for certain tasks. The tutorial encouraged me to experiment with both, and now I switch between them depending on the image and what I’m trying to achieve.
I also learned to use tone curves in conjunction with other tools instead of relying on them in isolation. The tutorial demonstrated how to first adjust exposure and contrast using basic sliders, and then refine the overall balance using the tone curve. This layered approach gave me more flexibility and helped prevent my edits from becoming overly aggressive.
Even now, I return to tone curve tutorials regularly. Each time, I catch something new—a subtle shift in how someone uses anchor points, a creative way to adjust skin tones using the red curve, or a trick for achieving a faded matte look. There’s always something more to learn, even from a tool I use every single day. That’s one of the reasons I recommend watching tutorials even on topics you think you already know. You’ll almost always uncover something new.
Understanding Skin Tone Correction in Portraits
Portrait photography has always been both fascinating and intimidating to me. One of the biggest challenges is getting skin tones to look natural and flattering. It’s something that requires both technical knowledge and artistic sensitivity. When I came across a tutorial on skin tone editing, I didn’t expect it to become one of my go-to references, but that’s exactly what happened.
The tutorial began with a gear comparison between Canon and Sony, which I found especially engaging. I’ve always loved gear comparisons, but what made this one valuable was that it used the same scene and lighting setup for both cameras. This made the differences in color rendering, sharpness, and dynamic range much easier to spot. It also gave me a deeper understanding of how my choice of gear could affect post-processing decisions, especially when it comes to color.
After that, the tutorial shifted focus to editing techniques. The method it introduced for adjusting skin tone was something I hadn’t seen before. It involved using the HSL (Hue, Saturation, Luminance) panel in combination with selective masking to isolate the skin. Then, subtle adjustments were made to the orange and red channels to bring the tones closer to natural. The result was smoother skin with balanced warmth, without making the subject look unnatural or overly retouched.
What I appreciated most was that the tutorial avoided shortcuts or one-size-fits-all approaches. It emphasized how every person’s skin is different and that editing should be tailored accordingly. This was refreshing, especially after seeing so many presets marketed as universal fixes. It also helped me understand why some of my previous portraits looked off. I had been relying too heavily on global adjustments and not paying enough attention to how they affected skin specifically.
The tutorial also addressed luminance smoothing and color uniformity, two aspects that are easy to overlook. By demonstrating side-by-side edits, it became clear how much of a difference these subtle refinements can make. The subject’s skin looked even and glowing, but still real, without veering into plastic or over-smoothed territory.
Watching this video changed how I approach portrait editing. Now, I slow down and spend more time analyzing skin tones, especially under different lighting conditions. I’ve learned to rely less on presets and more on targeted adjustments. It’s also made me more confident when working with diverse skin tones, which is something I struggled with early on. Knowing that I have the tools to address those differences thoughtfully and respectfully has made me feel more capable and responsible as a photographer.
Behind the Edits of Brandon Woelfel’s Iconic Style
Brandon Woelfel is a name that comes up often in photography circles, especially on Instagram. His style—dreamy, neon-lit, and pastel-colored—became wildly popular and inspired countless copycat tutorials. For a long time, I avoided those types of videos because they often felt more like imitation than education. But then I stumbled on a tutorial where Brandon himself walked through the editing process of some of his older Instagram photos, and everything changed.
There was something very different about hearing the creator explain his thought process, rather than someone else guessing at how the look was achieved. It gave insight not just into the steps but the intention behind them. For example, Brandon talked about how he chooses locations based on available light sources like fairy lights, neon signs, or reflective surfaces. He explained that these elements weren’t just aesthetic—they helped shape the mood and tone of the image in a very deliberate way.
One thing that surprised me was how minimal his initial edits were. The raw images looked good, but not mind-blowing. It was the way he layered adjustments—tiny color shifts, gentle exposure tweaks, and clever use of split toning—that created the final look. This made me realize that the magic wasn’t in any single step, but in how each decision supported the overall mood.
The tutorial also offered some creative insights I hadn’t expected. Brandon spoke about storytelling and consistency across a visual feed, which helped me think more holistically about my work. Instead of treating each image as a standalone piece, I started thinking about how my photos relate to one another, especially when shared on social platforms. This was a subtle but powerful shift that influenced how I organize and edit my collections.
What made this video so valuable was its honesty. Brandon didn’t claim to have all the answers or pretend every photo turned out perfectly. He talked about experiments that failed, and it looks like he grew out of them. It was a reminder that style evolves and that even someone with millions of followers is still figuring things out. That humility made the tutorial feel more like a conversation than a lesson, and it left a lasting impression.
Watching Different Perspectives: Four Photographers, One Model
There’s a video where four photographers shoot the same model, and although it’s not exactly a tutorial, it’s one of the most educational things I’ve ever watched. The concept is simple. Each photographer gets a chance to work with the same model in the same space. But what unfolds is a fascinating exploration of style, perspective, and personality.
Each photographer had a completely different approach. One was very directive, giving specific instructions for posing. Another was more observational, waiting for natural moments. One focused on close-up details, while another went wide and dramatic. The lighting, angles, and framing varied so much that it was hard to believe they were working with the same person in the same room.
What I loved about this video was how it broke the myth that there’s a single right way to shoot. It showed how much of photography is personal, intuitive, and driven by individual vision. It also reinforced the idea that creativity isn’t about equipment or technique—it’s about choices. Two people can use the same camera and lens and still produce completely different results based on how they see the world.
Watching the video also made me more thoughtful about my own process. I realized I tend to rely on familiar poses or angles, and that I often rush through shoots instead of taking time to experiment. Seeing how each photographer interacted with the model reminded me that the experience of the shoot is just as important as the outcome. When people feel comfortable and seen, it shows in the final images.
This video didn’t teach me a new Lightroom trick or camera setting, but it gave me something deeper. It helped me understand that developing a personal style isn’t about copying others—it’s about exploring your own preferences, instincts, and experiences. And sometimes, seeing others do that in real time is the best kind of inspiration.
Improving Low-Light Photography through Practice and Tutorials
One area of photography that I continue to struggle with is low-light shooting. It’s not just about having the right gear or bumping up the ISO—it’s about understanding how light behaves, how to control it, and how to manage your settings without sacrificing image quality. That’s why I find myself watching low-light tutorials more often than anything else. I’m always on the lookout for new tips or different ways to approach this challenge.
There’s a particular video that resonated with me because it didn’t promise to solve everything with a single trick. Instead, it acknowledged that low-light shooting is difficult and requires a combination of technical skill and creative problem-solving. What made this tutorial especially useful was how it tackled both sides of the process—how to shoot in low light, and how to edit afterward.
On the shooting side, the video discussed techniques like using slower shutter speeds, choosing prime lenses with wider apertures, and working with available light instead of using flash. These are tips I had heard before, but seeing them applied in real time, with actual examples, helped solidify them in my mind. The photographer demonstrated how to adjust white balance manually in darker scenes and showed how even subtle changes in light position could dramatically affect the final result.
Then came the editing portion. The tutorial focused on retaining detail in shadows without adding too much noise. It showed how to lift shadows carefully and how to selectively reduce noise without softening the entire image. One of my favorite parts was watching the use of radial filters to draw attention to specific areas and give structure to an otherwise flat image.
I also appreciated the honesty in the tutorial. The creator didn’t shy away from showing the limitations of their setup. They explained that some images simply wouldn’t work without a tripod or a better sensor, and that sometimes you have to embrace grain as a stylistic choice. This helped reframe my thinking. Instead of seeing grain as a flaw, I started to view it as texture—something that could add mood and atmosphere to the shot.
Low-light photography still isn’t something I feel entirely confident in, but tutorials like these help chip away at my uncertainty. Each time I watch one, I learn something new or remember a detail I had forgotten. I try to apply those lessons in real-world scenarios, especially when I find myself in dimly lit rooms or outdoor settings at night. It’s not just about making the best of a bad situation. It’s about understanding how to create something beautiful and intentional, even when the light is limited.
Learning to Direct with Confidence: Posing for Photographs
Portrait photography is often about more than just composition and lighting. It’s also about communication. Knowing how to direct a subject, especially someone who isn’t a professional model, is crucial. People often feel nervous or unsure of themselves in front of a camera, and as the photographer, you’re responsible for guiding them toward poses that feel natural and flattering.
That’s why I found a posing tutorial especially helpful—not just for learning how to pose myself, but for understanding how to better direct others. Even though the video was technically made for models, it offered a wealth of insight that photographers can benefit from. It showed how tiny adjustments in posture, head tilt, or hand placement could completely change the energy of an image.
One point that stood out was the importance of avoiding stiffness. The instructor explained how nervous energy can lead to rigid poses and demonstrated ways to counteract that. They suggested small movements, like shifting weight from one leg to another or gently rolling the shoulders back and down. These micro-adjustments help make a pose feel more relaxed and less staged.
Another valuable takeaway was the use of prompts rather than commands. Instead of saying “tilt your head,” you might say, “imagine you’re listening closely to someone you really like.” This subtle shift in language creates a more organic response and makes the subject feel more at ease. It turns the photo session into a conversation rather than a performance.
I also learned a lot about the relationship between posing and emotion. The tutorial broke down how different poses convey different moods—strong, playful, vulnerable, joyful—and how the position of the hands, eyes, and body all contribute to that message. This helped me become more intentional in my portrait sessions. I no longer just tell someone where to stand; I think about what story I’m trying to tell through their posture and expression.
One challenge I’ve always faced with portrait photography is that people often don’t like how they look in photos. They’ll say it’s not flattering or that they “just don’t photograph well.” While this can be frustrating, it’s also a reminder of how personal and vulnerable it is to be on the other side of the camera. That’s why learning to pose people gently and respectfully is so important. It’s not about manipulating their image; it’s about helping them see themselves in a new light.
Since watching this tutorial, I’ve started to incorporate more of these techniques into my sessions. I try to be encouraging and collaborative, and I pay closer attention to how people naturally carry themselves. Sometimes, the best pose is just a slightly refined version of how someone already stands or sits. The key is to guide rather than control.
Exploring New Tools: The Auto Mask in Lightroom
There are times when I stumble across a tutorial that introduces me to a feature I didn’t even know existed. That was the case with the Auto Mask tool in Lightroom. I had been using Photoshop for more detailed masking tasks and didn’t realize that Lightroom had added a similar function. Discovering this was like finding a secret shortcut I’d been missing all along.
The tutorial I watched explained how the Auto Mask works by detecting edges within the selected area, allowing for more precise adjustments. This is especially helpful when you want to brighten a face without affecting the background, or when you’re adjusting sky tones without changing the landscape beneath it. It’s the kind of tool that saves time but also opens up new creative possibilities.
The demonstration showed how to combine the Auto Mask with the Adjustment Brush, letting you paint over a specific area with refined control. For example, you could selectively increase exposure on a shadowed face, reduce clarity in the background to create more depth, or adjust saturation in clothing without altering skin tones. All of this without leaving Lightroom.
What made this tutorial so useful was its real-world application. The photographer walked through a complete edit, showing before-and-after comparisons and explaining the purpose behind each adjustment. This gave context to the technical process and helped me understand not just how to use the tool but when and why.
Another thing I appreciated was how the tutorial addressed the limitations of the Auto Mask. It’s not always perfect. Sometimes it bleeds over edges or misses small areas. But the key was knowing how to refine it—by adjusting flow and feathering, zooming in to correct details, or combining it with radial filters for more targeted control.
After watching the video, I started experimenting with Auto Mask on my own images. At first, I made a few messy edits and got frustrated. But over time, I started to see the value. It sped up my workflow and allowed me to make changes I used to reserve for Photoshop. Now, it’s a regular part of my editing process, especially for quick adjustments where I want to keep everything in Lightroom.
This tutorial also reminded me of the importance of staying updated. Even though I try to read release notes and follow new features, sometimes a tool slips by unnoticed. YouTube has been a great way to catch up on those changes, especially when someone takes the time to break things down clearly and practically.
Learning about the Auto Mask might not seem like a big milestone, but for me, it represented a shift in how I use Lightroom. It made me more confident in the software’s capabilities and more open to exploring other hidden tools. It also reinforced a recurring theme in my photography journey—that there’s always more to learn, and that sometimes the most useful lessons come when you least expect them.
Navigating the Overflow of Online Content with Purpose
While putting together a list of my favorite tutorials, I opened more than thirty tabs and fell into one of those familiar internet rabbit holes. I started by looking for specific videos but quickly got sidetracked by suggested links, trending thumbnails, and titles that promised to change my editing forever. That’s one of the double-edged parts of YouTube. There’s an endless stream of content, but not all of it is worth your time.
After hours of watching, comparing, and sifting through different channels, I began to notice certain patterns. Some tutorials are clearly designed to sell a product, like a preset pack or editing software. They might start with a helpful tip, but halfway through, they shift into promotional content. It’s not always obvious right away. Sometimes they wrap the sales pitch in storytelling or technical jargon. I’ve learned to recognize this shift and decide quickly whether it’s still worth watching.
Other tutorials suffer from the opposite problem—they try to entertain rather than educate. There’s nothing wrong with a little personality, but when a fifteen-minute video includes eight minutes of random chatter, it can feel like a waste of time. Especially when you're looking for clear, actionable steps. I’ve developed a sort of internal filter. If a video doesn't get to the point within the first couple of minutes, I usually move on.
These frustrations have taught me something important: curation is part of the learning process. It’s not just about finding a good tutorial—it’s about learning to spot which ones are actually helpful for your goals. I’ve become more strategic in how I search. I use specific keywords, including the year, to get the most updated versions, and pay attention to viewer comments. Sometimes the comments section is more informative than the video itself, with people suggesting alternatives, pointing out flaws, or sharing how they applied the technique.
I also started bookmarking the creators I trust. These are people who consistently provide valuable content, explain things clearly, and don’t overwhelm their videos with self-promotion. Following a few reliable channels has saved me time and reduced my frustration. I still explore new content, but I lean on a trusted base of educators when I really want to understand something in depth.
This process has helped me reclaim my learning time. I now approach YouTube with more intention. Instead of browsing randomly, I create short watchlists based on what I want to improve—portraits, lighting, Lightroom workflows, etc. That way, I can keep my attention focused and make real progress without getting lost in distractions.
Maintaining Curiosity and Avoiding Burnout
One of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned through this journey is how important it is to maintain curiosity. Photography is a medium that constantly evolves. New gear, new techniques, new styles—all of it means there’s always something new to explore. But with that constant movement also comes the risk of burnout. When you’re always trying to keep up, it can start to feel overwhelming rather than exciting.
That’s why I’ve started permitting myself to step back when I need to. If I watch too many tutorials in a row, I begin to lose my voice. I start second-guessing my choices, wondering if I’m doing things the “right” way. But the truth is, there is no single right way. Tutorials should be tools, not blueprints. They’re there to inspire and inform, not dictate your process.
To avoid burnout, I alternate between learning and doing. I might spend a weekend watching tutorials and taking notes, but the following week, I’ll focus only on applying what I’ve learned. I’ll go out and shoot without looking at any screens. This gives me space to experiment, to test things for myself, and to reconnect with why I started in the first place.
I also remind myself that mastery isn’t the goal. Growth is. Every time I understand a new technique or solve a problem I couldn’t before, that’s progress. I don’t need to be perfect, and I don’t need to compete with anyone else. The internet can make it easy to compare yourself to others, especially when everyone’s highlight reels are on display. But I try to focus on my path and measure success by how I feel about my work, not by metrics or trends.
Curiosity is what brought me to photography, and it’s what keeps me going. The best tutorials don’t just teach you something—they spark questions, open up new possibilities, and remind you that there’s still so much to discover. When I find a video that does that, it doesn’t matter if it’s five minutes long or an hour. I leave feeling energized, not drained.
Building Confidence Through Self-Taught Learning
Being a self-taught photographer has its challenges. There are moments when you feel behind, especially if you’re surrounded by people who went to school for photography or work in creative industries full time. But there’s also something empowering about building your skills through your own curiosity and effort. You begin to trust your instincts more. You learn how to teach yourself, how to adapt, and how to solve problems independently.
YouTube has played a huge role in that. It’s not just about the knowledge—it’s about the mindset it encourages. When you search for a solution, watch someone break it down, and then try it yourself, you’re reinforcing your ability to learn. That confidence starts to carry over into other areas. You become more willing to try new things, more resilient when things don’t go right, and more open to feedback.
Over time, I stopped worrying about whether I had the right credentials or enough experience. Instead, I focused on creating, improving, and staying curious. I started to enjoy the process more and stressed about the results less. That shift changed everything. It made photography feel more like a relationship than a skill—something that grows with you and reflects where you are at any given time.
I’ve also found that being self-taught makes you a better teacher. Because I’ve struggled through learning things on my own, I understand what it’s like to be confused, stuck, or intimidated. When friends ask for help with editing or camera settings, I try to explain things the way I wish someone had explained them to me. Clear, practical, and encouraging.
That’s another reason I love tutorials—they’re a form of shared learning. Someone else took the time to figure something out and decided to pass it along. That generosity creates a sense of community, even if you’re watching alone in your room. It reminds you that you’re not the only one learning, experimenting, or figuring things out as you go.
Conclusion
Looking back, my photography journey has never been about a straight path or a formal education. It’s been a collection of moments, choices, mistakes, and quiet learning sessions in front of a screen. YouTube, despite its distractions and occasional fluff, has been an incredible resource along the way. It’s where I’ve picked up skills I use daily, found new ways to look at old tools, and listened to voices that helped shape my creative vision.
Each tutorial I mentioned—and many others I didn’t—played a role in helping me grow. Some taught me technical precision. Others taught me to see differently. A few reminded me of the emotional side of image-making and how photography, at its best, is about communication and connection. These lessons didn’t come all at once, and I didn’t absorb them in a neat order. They arrived gradually, through repetition and experimentation, through successes and plenty of failures.
That’s the nature of being self-taught. You’re constantly balancing between absorbing information and creating something personal out of it. Tutorials are incredibly helpful, but they are just the beginning. They give you tools, but how you use them is entirely up to you. The real magic happens when you start to blend what you’ve learned with what you feel, what you see, and how you interpret the world.
I no longer feel like an outsider in the photography space. Yes, I studied political science. No, I didn’t go to art school. But I’ve built something real from curiosity, effort, and time. And if you’re learning similarly, know that your path is just as valid. Whether you’re watching videos on your lunch break, editing photos late at night, or shooting on weekends, you’re building a foundation. It might be unconventional, but it’s yours.