Why My Photos Suck — and I Don’t Care

My photos suck. It’s my passion, it’s my life work, but they suck. That’s right. I know. They are blurry, grainy, imperfect, with bad color, and sometimes the composition is pretty boring. I don’t have professional models in long, flowing gowns with expensive lighting. I just don’t have it.

But I don’t care.

When I was a kid, maybe 10 or 12 years old, I discovered cameras. It wasn’t a big thing, but it was cool. You could point at something, take a photo onto film, then save it forever. That was cool.

I remember having a Kodak 110 camera. It was great. I took photos of all kinds of things. Then my mother brought me to the photo store where we got prints made. I threw away the plastic negatives — they were useless to me. The prints were my prize.

My first screwed up photo I can remember was a picture of a dock in Ashland, Wisconsin. I raised the camera, and having a fixed lens it wouldn’t get the whole dock in the photo at once. So I took two photos, one of the right side of the dock, and the other photo of the end of the dock, where it juts out into the lake. The resulting image was a huge mistake, because it didn’t have the whole dock in the picture. I was documenting the moment, and it made perfect sense to take two photos.

The funny thing is, although it was a mistake to take two photos, everyone loved it. Later in life I learned that I accidentally discovered the rule of thirds.

I was motivated. People liked my photos. People, as in my little world of family and friends. Back then there was no social media, and the only place to publish a photo was the local newspaper.

In high school I started an alternative school paper. I made some photos for that. They were also pretty bad. The subjects were centered, the background was boring, the lighting was off. But people were excited that I was taking pictures, because they didn’t know how. I never got that. You just point, and press the button. What’s the big deal?

I continued to take photos, of everything.

When college showed up, I went to the college paper and offered to be a photographer for them. They hired me on the spot, because no one else wanted to do it. I grabbed the Pentax K1000 they had and took assignments. I showed up to the chess club meeting, the basketball game, the ribbon cutting, and they loved me for it. The photos were still pretty bad, but I saw my photos in print, and that was cool. There was my name at the bottom: “Adam Rainoff, Photographer.” I was hooked.

Then I had an idea of going to local concerts and taking photos there, again for the college paper. I called the venues and told them I worked for the university newspaper and wanted to publish photos of the show. They instantly granted me access to anything I wanted. That was cool. I could go to concerts for free and all I had to do was take some photos.

I had never done it before, but again, how hard can it be? Load the film, point, focus, shoot, and hope something comes out right. I showed up to the concert, skipped the line, got a photo permit to wear around my neck, and got access to the whole place, all for free. This was awesome.

I walked into the pit, between the stage and the people, and took shots of the musicians. I had no idea who they were or even recognized the name of the band, but again, this was cool. After the show I thought maybe I should take a photo of the musicians with better light, so I tried to go backstage to the dressing rooms. The bouncers just stepped aside and let me in. I talked to the musicians and took some photos.

I never had any training, classes, or certificates to be a photographer. I suddenly discovered that I was a photographer, a legitimate photographer. The band called me “the photographer.” This was validation.

I don’t think I ever took a “great” photo, but they were good enough to print. My photos were shared through the newspaper to thousands of students, teachers, and whomever else saw it. It was official — I was a published photographer. The problem is that I never really took a great photo. I was just in the right place at the right time.

In college I started traveling and doing research in other countries. I brought the camera, to document my trips. I started taking photos of everything. I shared the photos with family and friends. They started asking me to take photos of their kids, their pets, weddings, birthdays. I guess they liked my photos, but I never thought they were that good.

I liked them.

I liked my photos. My photos had my passion inside them. I could look at the photo and remember the story that was unfolding at that moment. I was capturing the moment, a moment that would never be repeated. I never cared if other people liked my photos. It was for me, but I shared them to whomever would look at them. I wasn’t afraid to share my work.

When I was able to go digital, cropping and horizon alignment, brightness, contrast, color, saturation, and to an extent noise could be manipulated. Dust, spots, and trash could be removed from the beach photo or the street photo.

Then the internet gave me the way to share the photos to the world, and people started to like my photos online. I first started publishing my pictures so that the family and friends could see, but then I developed a following. First it was Facebook, with a few hundred followers. Then Instagram, now over 5,000 followers. I also publish to 500px.com, Flickr.com, LinkedIn.com, Twitter.com, Pinterest.com, and even VK.com, the Russian Facebook.

Some people like my photos, others just look. That’s fine. My pictures are nothing spectacular, but I love sharing. There are many more accomplished and polished photographers out there, and they have a much better looking photo portfolio. They only post their best work. I publish everything I think is interesting, even if it’s technically not perfect. Some of the most liked photos have been surprises to me, so anything that looks interesting gets published.

A friend told me once that she loved looking at my photos because she was home-bound and couldn’t travel. She said that she could imagine exploring the world through my photos. That was all I needed to be inspired. If one person has a better day because of one of my images, it’s all worth it.

My photos are nothing special, but I’m happy to share. It’s going to continue that way. I try to edit the photos so they don’t look horrible, but some of them are just not technically right. That’s not a problem for me, because this is my work, and no one is going to tell me it sucks. I already know that, and I don’t care.