Lessons from One Year as a Full-Time Landscape Photographer
If you’re going to read just one of my blog posts about photography, this is it.
A year ago, I left my job as a software engineer to explore what it would be like to do Landscape Photography full time. Would I ever get good enough? Would I still enjoy it if I did it full time? Would I want to attempt to make a living as an artist?
The answer was, as usual, complicated.
If you’re also curious about the idea of pursuing life as an artist, in whatever capacity, read on!
PS—if you don’t already know, I’ve been documenting the journey on my YouTube channel. This video tells the story of how the journey first began:
What It Actually Takes
Travel, Hiking, and Routines
A few photographers build their entire career by shooting a small area near their home. Many others, however, travel a great deal for inspiration, the sense of adventure, or to create a diverse portfolio. This works well for some people, but can be draining for others.
For me, I was reminded that two months away from home is a good upper limit.
But travel alone is not enough — if you’re like me, you want to seek out locations that are unique, rather than shoot the same icons as everyone else (though I am guilty of that as well). What this means is a lot of hiking and a lot of nights spent living in a tent in the wilderness. That’s a dream to some, but for others, less so. A friend of mine spent a month hiking the Appalachian Trail and quit, not because it was hard, but because he was bored.
I love backpacking, but I have to admit that I may have done the same.
You also have to be willing to lose sleep so that you can catch the sunrise or sunset, over and over again. Furthermore, it can be difficult to commit to plans or have a regular schedule since you have to wait for the the right conditions, such as a storm system coming or going in the mountains or fog in the woods.
Travel is glamorized on social media, and it’s easy to sell that dream to people who are working too much and wishing they could be somewhere else. The reality is, you may miss a normal schedule, routines, and stability. This lifestyle can also make it difficult to maintain friendships or a relationship.
I think that this varies greatly from person to person, and you have to craft a lifestyle that works for you. One thing I’ve seen other photographers (e.g. Dave Morrow) do is spend a few months backpacking and then a few months doing all of the computer work — editing, writing blog posts, making YouTube videos, etc.
Putting Yourself Out There
You’re putting work with your name on it out there. That’s very vulnerable. You’re opening yourself up to being judged. People may look at your attempts to do something different unfavorably. They might not understand what you’re doing or why it’s hard. They might laugh at how bad you are at first. If you don’t have a big following, they might judge you as a failure purely based on that.
Even if they're supportive, you won’t know everything people are actually thinking, and if you’re like me, you might assume the worst.
If I could recommend one thing to make this easier, it’s using a pseudonym. Some people might not need this, but it does allow you to put your work out there in a separate universe from your personal and work life, which you might be thankful for when you look at your past work and think, “Wow, that was Terrible.”
Which will inevitably happen. I mean, you will always think your old work is bad, but at some point it might graduate from terrible to okay, but I can do better, which doesn’t feel nearly as shameful.
Recommended reading: Art and Fear by David Bayles & Ted Orland
Years of Hard Work
You have to be good. And I don’t mean “good enough to get a job at <fancy tech company>” good. There are hundreds of thousands of engineers at that level.
That’s a thousand times more than the number of professional landscape photographers. That number is closer to the number of successful startup founders, which is much closer to professional landscape photography in terms of time investment, risk, etc.
Even just developing a single skill to mastery takes years. Consider the Ten Thousand Hours rule. That’s five years of full time work, doing nothing but the work itself.
A college major is maybe two. A year of full time software engineering work might be only half a year of actually writing code.
Here is an old image of mine. Blown out highlights, no subject, and just utter mess:
And, this is now, after a year of full time and several years of part time work:
It’s not enough, but the progress is definitely noticeable.
Of course, just creating beautiful images is not enough, either. More on that below.
Social Media
For some people, social media is fun. Personally, it makes me anxious. It can lead to an increase in mental chatter, comparing yourself to others, and pressure to get more likes and followers.
Unfortunately, most artists have to rely on social media to some degree to get their work out there, at least at first.
My personal experience of trying to build a following has been rather dismal.
Presently, posting on a mature platform like Instagram or YouTube often does nothing until you have a following, so your content does not have an opportunity to be seen. Any time I had an influx of views or followers, it was due to an external source such as a Reddit post or a feature by someone with a large following.
It’s important to recognize that the response to your work is strongly correlated to your following and very loosely correlated with the quality of your work.
A while ago I made a video on this topic.
To talk about some numbers, I currently have 56 Youtube subscribers after making 14 videos. These took anywhere from 20 to 40+ hours to film and edit. Some of these subscribers are my friends outside of YouTube, so the total number of people I reached is even lower.
This is in line with other people’s experiences — a photographer I spoke to with 14k subscribers reached 100 after 17 videos several years ago. The competition has naturally become more fierce since then.
My recommendations: Focus on getting good. Don’t take social media seriously until you’re trying to run a business. Do what you love, and put it out there if that doesn’t impact you negatively, but don’t focus on that.
Don’t put work out there as a “professional photographer”. That creates pressure. It’s much easier to present yourself as a person with a hobby, even if it’s much more than a hobby to you.
Finally, post in smaller communities and platforms, such as ones dedicated to your craft or your local area. Or, newer platforms that have not yet taken off.
Making A Living
As I mentioned in the video above, nearly every professional landscape photographer earns their income through teaching, whether it’s workshops or processing videos.
Some of these are not the best at the actual craft, but they are good teachers, guides, or content creators. All of them are successful entrepreneurs. It took all of them years of work to get there.
The work never ends
There is no 9-5. Instead, the work is 24/7, and there’s always pressure to keep going.
Edit images.
Edit video.
Write.
Engage on social media.
Mail a print.
Present at an art walk.
Plan a new trip.
Travel.
Hike.
Record images and videos.
File business taxes.
Etc.
All this with no promise of reward or stability.
This is a massive contrast to the many “safe” paths out there that promise guaranteed pay in exchange for a small amount of easy, enjoyable work.
Recommended reading: Deep Work by Cal Newport
Then why…
I knew a lot of these things going into it. So, why did I do it?
Because it’s important to take risks and go after what you want. If you’re not failing, you’re not taking enough risk.
I’m not where I want to be, but I learned a lot. For example:
I figured out what kinds of work and activities I enjoy and don’t enjoy. I now have a much greater appreciation for engineering work than I did before, and much more respect for independent creators as well.
Thanks to YouTube, I realized I want to to work on how I talk and present myself. I’m planning to take classes to develop this skill (e.g. improv, debate).
Thanks to time spent traveling, even if that was severely limited by the pandemic, I was able to learn more about which landscapes resonate with me.
Overall, I gained life experience that I can pass on to others. That’s extremely valuable regardless of whether or not you have a large following.
And of course, I significantly advanced my skillset in this field.
Your experience could be very different. You might learn that passion craft is your one and only calling in life.
You owe it to yourself to find out.
When To Keep Going, and When to Recalibrate
Does it still feel like living the dream?
I must admit that I started to legitimately miss engineering. There was a moment when I was driving to a hike and shoot a sunset in the mountains, and wanted to turn around and do some coding instead.
If you feel depressed doing anything else but your craft, if you can’t live without it, keep going. Watch this video:
Is this you, or is it not? Be honest with yourself.
Also note the years of work and the social media side of this artist’s journey.
You need to love the process more than anything. It needs to always be your primary hobby and passion. If you’re not enjoying it, you won’t last.
The answer to “hell yes or no” must be “hell yes”, and everything else must be a “no”.
For me, a balance of engineering and art might be the way to go for the time being.
Are you adding value to the world?
You can make art as a hobby, but doing it professionally means providing a service. Having an impact.
Is there some positive change I am trying to create with my work, or am I just selfishly enjoying spending time in the mountains?
Is my work providing anything new or unique? Helping others in any meaningful way?
I do think landscape photography can do a lot of good. It can inspire people to reconnect with nature and get more grounded, as well as to protect it from negative human impact.
For some people, that is the primary way they can have an impact — their work is good, innovative, and is their strongest skillset.
I don’t know if this is the case for me. Perhaps I am just one of millions of people vying for attention on Instagram while I could write some code and build something to directly benefit the world.
That’s not to say that all tech is beneficial — far from it. It can be pure evil. Similarly, creating a passive income from selling photo editing tutorials as taught by Tim Ferriss’s Four Hour Work Week might not have much positive impact if what you’re teaching isn’t new or unique or presented better than by anyone else.
(Though unlike tech, processing tutorials are neutral at worst.)
Regardless, the point is that, when all of your needs are met and you’re functioning at the self-actualization level of Maslow’s Hierarchy, I think the best thing you can do is to serve others and make the world better.
I do want to continue to pursue landscape photography, but I’d like to find a way to make it not about me. There needs to be a point.
Recommended reading: The Practice by Seth Godin
Is there any way to make the finances work?
I have to be honest and say that I don’t see a good path to making 10% or even 1% of my engineering salary through photography itself.
If I saw a path to 1%, I could get there and then scale it up.
I could potentially continue to get better, grow my social media following, and start recording post-processing tutorials. This is the most common path. I would prefer engineering work over that.
Consider what you actually enjoy doing and think people would benefit from. Form a plan based on that.
I would also strongly push back on the idea of having one job. That is an antiquated notion and I wish I had known this was false earlier.
It’s entirely possible to reach mastery in several fields during your lifetime, or to use the experience and savings from one field to support the transition to another.
Of course, this will take a lot of work and a strategic approach.
Here is one possible path (in landscape photography, but easily adapted to other pursuits):
Get a for-profit job that you enjoy, can learn from (e.g. problem solving, communication), and is in demand. Ideally, something fully remote. Software engineering is a good bet in my opinion. This will allow you to have the time and money to invest in your other pursuit.
Live in an area where landscape photography can be done at your doorstep or, at worst, an hour away.
Focus all vacations on landscape photography. Do a lot of planning in advance. Travel to remote and rarely seen places, not iconic spots.
Take advantage of any free time you have to work on your craft. This could be when you’re young and living at home, or when you’ve saved up enough to take time off from working full time. And of course, any free time throughout the work week.
As with building a startup, you must test out your plans quickly. Take time off from the for-profit job as soon as you can if practicing your craft on the side is not giving you the signal you need. The risk is low. You can always get another job.
This path allows you to take calculated risks and figure out what’s right for you.
Of course, an entirely different approach may be what’s right for you. If that’s the case, go with that.
Whatever you do, don’t live wishing you were doing something else and doing nothing about it.
The worst thing you can do is to not try.
What’s Next…
For now, I am slowing down on photography and taking on a full time job helping advance cryptocurrency and volunteering my engineering skills with an animal rights non-profit. I think that both of these causes have the potential to have a strong positive impact in the world.
I do feel like I’ve achieved the goal I set for myself of creating a portfolio that I would be proud of. I am much better than I was a year ago.
Of course, I’m still not good enough — you never feel good enough, actually. I’m proud of at least having made it this far, and that’s good.
But, the quest is not over. It’s just, not the main quest, at the moment.
For now, I leave you with this video from my recent trip to the Redwoods and the Oregon Coast: