#10 - Fully embracing the mistakes, while still shooting for the moon: photography as a mission-oriented project
Featuring a chaotic dog shoot, a story about working with children in Santiago, and the art of failing forward
Hi there,
I’m writing this letter while struggling with hay fever. This year hasn’t been as bad for me as previous springs — I blame the thesis for that horrible period — but this week the pollen has been off the charts.
Anyway, I hope you like rescue dogs, because this week’s dog portrait is one of my favourite neighbours: Titos. I also want to talk about success, and I’m going to mix in some personal anecdotes and, as always, conversations with friends.
Dogspotting.
Titos is our shared friend with Amy. We met him for the first time a year ago, probably in Victoria Park, and since then we’ve constantly seen each other around the neighbourhood. Every time Amy and Titos cross paths, they just want to hang out for ages. And maybe I contribute to the delay by stroking Titos for a bit too long. But he doesn’t seem to mind.
Titos looks like a miniature Akita-Collie cross. We last saw him on Friday evening, just as we were arriving at the park and he was heading home with his mother. When he spotted us, he ran over to say hi to Amy, then gave my hand a quick lick—like a very polite kid greeting his mate’s parent—before heading off to play with Amy again.
He was rescued in Romania, but it’s fair to say he’s a Londoner now. The woman with him is his adoptive mum. Shocking, I know—not his biological mother! What’s actually happening is that she’s been looking after him while his original adoptive mum is away travelling.
But they’ve grown really close—and I’ve seen how much more sociable Titos has become during this time. You’ll be glad to hear that the latest news is they’re planning a co-parenting arrangement going forward. Lucky him, with a big, loving family around him.
As you can see, it was nearly impossible to get a classic portrait of Titos in that moment. Amy was trying to get him to play, and once she calmed down and moved away, it was Titos’ turn to get her attention. The result is a very unorthodox and chaotic set of images—but I ended up loving them because they capture the energy of the moment so well.
Giving it a try, kind of failing, but still aiming at the moon.
A few days ago, I was invited to a brunch with friends. One of them (she’ll read this, so… hi!) is planning to take a short break from her career this summer. She wants to reconnect with what she truly wants to do for a living. She had already spoken to her colleagues about it, and they were supportive—many of them had pursued parallel careers of their own.
‘What do they think now, after following an alternative path?’ I asked. Even though some of those projects hadn’t turned out as hoped, her colleagues said there was still real satisfaction in knowing they’d tried. I really relate to that, to the feeling of having made a decision that made sense at the time, and giving it my best shot.
Sometimes the situations we’re in just suck—really suck—but what else can we do besides doing what we can?
And then there are times when the results don’t go as planned. Some projects feel like total failures, sometimes even because of our own mistakes. But other times, the unexpected consequences are amazing.
My point is: just because the results don’t match our expectations doesn’t mean they’re not valuable. Sometimes, when something happens, we simply don’t yet know what it will come to mean in the future.
This reminds me of a project I developed on thirteen years ago. I was taking hand portraits while working with children in Santiago. To protect their anonymity, I focused on their hands: using them to tell the story of their daily lives and activities. I shot everything on a compact film camera (the kind where you develop the film in a darkroom), small enough not to attract too much attention in a neighbourhood where activities related to drug trafficking was the main source of income.
With that project, I never really knew how the photos would turn out. I had limited control: just what was in the frame, and the moment I pressed the shutter. Everything else was uncertain. After two years of work, I ended up with about twenty photos I felt were strong enough to be part of the final collection. And for each of those, there were probably twenty others I had to leave behind.
I only got to those few images because of the hundreds that didn’t make it. And even the ones that did weren’t perfect. I missed the baby’s hand in the frame, the rabbit looked green, the photos were full of motion blur, and the gun was out of focus. But there’s a real satisfaction in seeing a project through. I even managed to exhibit the work a couple of times—and sell a few prints!
All these years later, I’m still deeply grateful I followed through with that project. It genuinely helped shape who I am today.
Wrapping up this letter I want to thanks all the replies received this week. I have fun reading your thoughts on all these subjects. I would really love to hear what side projects do you have and if you are planning to start a new adventure. Let me know!
Thats all for this week, catch you in the park!