The Creative Plateau
It’s funny how creativity doesn’t disappear in an instant. It just fades quietly. The mornings when you think, “Ah, I’ll edit later,” or the walks where the camera stays in the bag because you can’t quite be bothered to reach for it. No drama, no crisis. Just a soft apathy.
I’ve had stretches like that. Plenty, actually. Everyone does, I suppose. And it’s rarely about the camera, or the lens, or whether you’ve stumbled on the “right” preset. It’s usually something subtler: a shift in pace, a bit of fatigue, the mind wandering off somewhere else.
I’ve come to realise the answer is almost never to try harder. Trying harder just tightens the knot of self-doubt and frustration.
What helps is proving to yourself, gently, that you still notice things.
Sometimes I’ll take my Fuji and commit to a single frame. Not a walk, not a series, not a project. Just one photograph. One small moment where I think, “That’s worth looking at twice.”
It might be the way steam curls from a mug, or the way winter light brushes across a window, or the beauty of a piece of fruit on the kitchen counter.
Nothing dramatic.
My good friend Patrick LaRoque is a master at this kind of observation.
And almost every time, whether the image works or not, something loosens.
You remember that you can see.
You remember that this whole thing began with curiosity, not technical perfection.
Maybe this week is a one-frame week.
—Kevin
