I’m becoming more convinced that the most important work we do in life isn’t our job, our craft, or even our calling.

It’s the work we do on ourselves.

Not in a self-help, navel-gazing kind of way—but in a posture of honest self-curiosity.

Who am I, really?
What are my gifts?
Where am I weak?
Where do I still need to grow?

These aren’t just personal development questions. For artists, photographers, and storytellers, they are foundational to creativity itself.

Self-curiosity is not self-criticism

There’s a difference between beating yourself up and being curious about yourself.

Self-curiosity sounds like:

• Why did I react that way?
• What do I bring into a room without realizing it?
• Why does this kind of story pull me in every time?
• Why do I avoid certain subjects—or certain people?

Great artists aren’t just observant of the world.
They’re observant of themselves in the world.

Your lens, your framing, your timing, your choice of subject—none of that is neutral. It all flows from who you are, how you see, and what you’ve wrestled with.

The discipline of honesty in the lows

When things fall apart—creatively, professionally, relationally—it’s easy to blame circumstances, clients, algorithms, budgets, or timing.

But the deeper work is asking:

• How did I get here?
• What patterns do I see repeating?
• What was my role in this—not to assign shame, but to gain clarity?

That kind of honesty hurts a little. But it’s also where growth begins.

Avoiding those questions doesn’t protect your creativity—it slowly suffocates it.

The rarely-discussed work: curiosity in the highs

We talk a lot about reflection after failure. Almost no one talks about reflection after success.

But the highs deserve just as much curiosity.

• Why did this project work?
• What was I fully present for here?
• What part of myself showed up at my best?
• What do I not want to lose the next time things go well?

Unchecked success can harden into ego just as easily as failure can harden into fear. Curiosity keeps both soft. And softness, paradoxically, is where creative strength lives.

A thought on boredom (and why it matters)

I’ve started wondering if boredom isn’t a lack of inspiration—but a lack of self-discovery.

Maybe boredom shows up when:

• We’ve stopped asking new questions of ourselves
• Our work has become technically competent but internally stale
• We’re producing, but not uncovering anything new

Creativity thrives on discovery. And sometimes the next discovery isn’t “out there” in a new location or assignment—it’s in here, waiting for attention.

Why this matters for storytellers

Every meaningful story begins with awareness:

• Awareness of others
• Awareness of power, pain, joy, contradiction
• And awareness of how you interpret all of that

If you don’t understand yourself, your stories flatten.
If you don’t examine your wiring, your blind spots show up in your work.
If you stop being curious about who you are becoming, your creativity eventually starts repeating itself.

Working on yourself isn’t a detour from the work.
It is the work.

A quiet invitation

If you’re feeling stuck, bored, or restless in your creative life, maybe the question isn’t:
What should I make next?

Maybe it’s:

• What haven’t I been honest about?
• What part of myself have I stopped listening to?
• What might I discover if I got curious again?

Your best work has always followed your deepest learning.
That hasn’t changed.

Ever apologize for something and feel done with it—only to have your brain hit repeat? Yeah… me too. Sometimes, even when I know I’ve done everything I can, my mind keeps replaying the conversation like a broken record.

If you’re autistic, this is pretty common. Our brains are wired to notice patterns, hold onto details, and think deeply about social interactions. That means we sometimes get stuck on things. But here’s the thing: that same wiring also has some serious perks.

The Downside

• You replay social moments over and over.
• It’s easy to feel guilty or anxious long after the fact.
• Moving on can feel impossible—even when you’ve apologized, and there’s literally nothing more to do.

The Upside

• You notice details others miss.
• You really think about how your actions affect people.
• You learn quickly from experiences because you process them deeply.

So yes, sometimes it’s exhausting. But it also makes you sincerely empathetic and super aware—qualities most people wish they had.

This Applies to Everyone

Even if you’re not autistic, we all have quirks that are both a blessing and a curse: perfectionism, hyper-focus, sensitivity, overthinking… You name it. The trick is figuring out when your brain is helping you and when it’s holding you back.

How to Move On Without Losing the Benefits

1. Call it out: “Okay, brain, I’ve apologized. That’s done.”
2. Write it down: Journaling or a quick note can mentally close the loop.
3. Switch focus: Dive into a task, a hobby, or exercise.
4. Set a timer: Give yourself a set period to reflect, then let it go.
5. Use it as fuel: Draw on the depth of your thinking to plan or improve next time.

Bottom Line

Your quirks—autistic or not—are powerful. They let you notice, care, and reflect in ways most people can’t. But they can also trap you if you don’t manage them. Recognize the gift. Handle the challenge. And keep moving forward.

After shooting events for most of my life, I’ve learned something that may sound counterintuitive:

The less you move, the better your work—and the better the experience for everyone else in the room.

Don’t get me wrong. I still get up. I still move. I still chase moments. But when I can do my job well from a seated position, I’m far less distracting to the audience and to the production team running the show. That matters—especially when you’re working events with live broadcasts, multiple cameras, and thousands of people in the room.

Over the years, I’ve learned that where you sit can be just as important as what lens you choose.

And this year, a surprisingly simple tool made a bigger difference than I expected: custom Reserved Chair Signs.

Why Staying Seated Matters at Large Events

Whenever possible, I prefer to shoot from a seated position with a clean view of the main stage. I usually choose an aisle seat—ideally on the end—so that when I do need to stand or move for a different angle, I’m not forcing an entire row of attendees to shuffle around me.

It’s about respect.

Respect for the audience who paid to be there.
Respect for the speakers on stage.
Respect for the production team managing 10+ live cameras, steady cams, jib arms, and broadcast cues.

If I’m constantly popping up in someone’s peripheral vision or crossing sightlines, I’m not helping anyone—even if I’m getting the shot.

The Challenge of Multi-Day Events

Reserving a seat for a one-day event is fairly simple. Multi-day events? That’s where things get tricky.

One of the primary events I cover each year is Chick-fil-A’s annual meeting—an event with over 10,000 operators, staff, and spouses. There’s a massive main stage, breakout sessions throughout the day, and an expo area that everyone disperses to. But each day, everyone comes back to that same main stage.

I’ve worked closely with the production team there for years. Still, when you’re dealing with a crew of 100+ people and constant room resets between sessions, it’s easy for a seat reservation to get lost—or for me to get forgotten in the shuffle.

That usually meant reintroducing myself, re-explaining why I needed a specific seat, or—worse—scrambling at the last minute before the program started.

This year, I decided to solve that problem myself.

Enter: Custom Reserved Chair Signs

I ordered a pack of ten generic Reserved Chair signs from Amazon. Simple. Inexpensive. Nothing fancy.

Then I took them to 92 Threads, the same place I use for logo work on clothing, and asked if they could put my logo on them. They digitally printed my branding directly onto the signs.

The result? Clean. Professional. Clear.

These weren’t “temporary placeholders.” They looked intentional—like they belonged in the room.

Scouting the Right Seat (This Part Matters)

In years past, the stage was round, and I used to reserve two seats on opposite sides so I could adjust based on where the speakers were facing. I wish I had those custom signs.

I arrived the day before and scouted for a great seat.

When choosing your spot, here’s what I always consider:

• Distance:
  You don’t want to be so close that you’re shooting up someone’s nose, and you don’t want to be so far back that you need a super-telephoto just to fill the frame.
• Angle:
  A slight angle is usually better than dead center—especially for storytelling shots that feel more dimensional.
• Sightlines:
  Heads are your enemy. Even one person leaning forward can ruin a shot.

The front middle section was too close for my taste. Instead, I chose the second section, which had a huge 10+ foot gap used by steady cams and foot traffic. That gap gave me breathing room, clean sightlines, and flexibility.

I picked the front row, far-left aisle seat in that section—and placed my Reserved Chair Sign there.

That seat became the home base for the entire event.

An Unexpected Bonus

Something happened this year that genuinely surprised me.

Not only was my seat always there when I arrived, but the operators also began looking for it. Some even wanted to sit next to me.

After 17 years of covering Chick-fil-A’s meetings, that was new.

The sign didn’t just reserve a chair—it quietly communicated:

• I belong here
• I have a role
• This seat serves a purpose

And because I wasn’t constantly moving or disrupting anyone, it actually made people more comfortable—not less.

Less Distraction = Better Storytelling

At the end of the day, this isn’t about claiming territory or being precious about a seat.

It’s about doing your job well without becoming part of the show.

When you can work efficiently, predictably, and unobtrusively:

• The audience stays engaged
• The production team trusts you
• The cameras stay clean
• The story comes first

For anyone who regularly shoots large events—especially multi-day ones—custom Reserved Chair Signs are a small investment with an outsized return.

I only wish I’d done it years ago.

All photos shot on Nikon Z9 with either 100-400mm Z or 24-120mm Z

Not long ago, I had the chance to swing by and catch up with an old family friend and fellow photographer: John Payne. John and I share something pretty special — he grew up in the same church where my grandfather was pastor, and I’ve known his family for as long as I can remember. So when my friend Gibbs Frazeur and I pulled into his studio to see his Nikon camera collection, it felt like stepping into a piece of photographic history.

John didn’t just dabble with cameras — he built something unforgettable.

A Life Built Around Nikon

John has been a working photographer since 1985 — four decades behind the lens, navigating film and digital, lighting and landscapes, teaching and making images people want to see. That alone is impressive. But what’s even more remarkable is the body of gear he’s collected over the years.

Back in 2017, PetaPixel featured John’s Nikon gear neatly arranged in a “family portrait” that stopped many photographers in their tracks. At that time, his collection included around 150 Nikon cameras and roughly 155 lenses, worth about $150,000 — and that was only a fraction of the whole story.

Since that 2017 PetaPixel article, John hasn’t slowed down a bit. In fact, he told me his Nikon collection has grown to more than double its size since then. That means even more cameras, more lenses, and more pieces of Nikon history carefully preserved by someone who truly understands their value — not just as tools, but as storytellers in their own right. It’s a reflection of John’s ongoing curiosity, his love for the craft, and a career that never stopped evolving, even decades after he first went into business.

Think about that: cameras from nearly every era of Nikon’s storied history — from early SLR classics to pro bodies that defined decades — lay out with the kind of quiet care only another photographer could truly appreciate. I saw a few pieces of that legacy myself during our visit.

Beyond the Gear: Memory and Community

Walking through John’s space wasn’t just about gear — it was about roots. I could see the years of passion behind every camera on the shelf, and not just because of the vintage values. These were milestones in his life, markers of stories told, moments captured, and lessons learned.

Conversations with John always circle back to photography as a vocation and calling. For him, Nikon wasn’t just a system — it was a lifelong conversation with light, composition, and human connection. That isn’t something you can pin a price tag on.

Why This Resonates With Me

As someone who has spent decades telling stories through images — and teaching others to do the same — moments like visiting John are reminders of why we pick up cameras in the first place.

It’s not the gear itself. It’s the hands that use them. The eyes that see through them. And the community that grows around them.

Whether you’re just starting out or you’ve been at it for years, I hope you can find a moment like the one I had with John — where the gear becomes a backdrop to the deeper story.

Brooks Glycerin Max

I talk a lot about cameras, lenses, computers, and software—and all of that matters. But there’s another piece of gear that quietly affects every single shoot, and most creatives ignore it until their body forces the issue.

Your feet, legs, knees, and back.

If you’re a photographer or videographer, chances are you spend long days standing on concrete, asphalt, gym floors, church floors, arenas, warehouses, studios, or sidewalks. Weddings. Conferences. Sports. Documentary shoots. Events. You’re not sitting at a desk—you’re planted on hard surfaces for hours at a time.

Over time, that takes a toll.

Taking care of your body isn’t optional if you want longevity in this work. It’s just as important as upgrading a camera body or buying faster glass. So here are my practical, research-backed recommendations for shoes and compression socks that actually help when you’re on your feet all day.

Why Concrete Is So Hard on Creatives

Concrete doesn’t absorb impact. Your body does.

Every hour you stand, the force travels from your feet up through your ankles, knees, hips, and spine. Poor footwear accelerates fatigue, joint pain, plantar fasciitis, lower back issues, and overall exhaustion—especially during multi-day shoots.

What you want is:

• Maximum cushioning to absorb shock
• Good stability, so you don’t feel wobbly while standing still
• Supportive midsoles that don’t collapse halfway through the day

That’s where the right shoes—and socks—come in.

My Top Shoe Recommendations for Long Days on Your Feet

HOKA Bondi Series (Bondi / Bondi SR)

If you’ve seen these on nurses, hospital staff, or event crews, there’s a reason.

Why they work:

• Extremely thick, plush midsoles
• Outstanding shock absorption on concrete
• Comfortable straight out of the box
• Bondi SR adds slip resistance for event and indoor work

These are some of the most forgiving shoes you can wear if your feet and joints are already feeling the years of standing.

Best for: Long events, conferences, weddings, arenas, church floors, and any shoot where you’re mostly standing or slow-moving.

Brooks Glycerin Max

This is a newer entry that deserves serious attention.

The Brooks Glycerin Max is a max-cushion neutral shoe built with nitrogen-infused foam and a subtle rocker shape that helps your foot roll forward naturally.

Why it stands out:

• Very high level of cushioning without feeling mushy
• Smooth, rolling feel that reduces lower-leg fatigue
• Excellent shock absorption for hard surfaces

While it’s technically a running shoe, many people use it successfully for long days of standing and walking because of its effective joint protection.

Trade-offs to know:

• Slightly heavier than minimalist shoes
• The rocker feel isn’t for everyone (some people prefer flatter soles)

Best for: Photographers and filmmakers who walk and stand all day and want maximum joint protection.

Skechers Max Cushioning / Arch Fit (Budget-Friendly Option)

Not everyone wants to spend top dollar—and that’s okay.

Skechers’ max-cushion models offer:

• Surprisingly good shock absorption
• Solid arch support
• Comfortable all-day wear at a lower price point

They don’t last as long as premium shoes, but they’re a solid option if you’re rotating shoes or need something affordable.

Compression Socks: The Secret Weapon Most Creatives Skip

Shoes protect your feet. Compression socks protect your legs.

If you finish shoots with swollen calves, sore shins, or that heavy, tired-leg feeling, compression socks can make a noticeable difference—especially on multi-day jobs.

What to Look For

• Graduated compression (tighter at the ankle, easing up the calf)
• 15–30 mmHg for all-day standing
• Breathable fabric so your feet don’t overheat

Recommended Brands

• Bombas Everyday Compression – Comfortable, balanced compression for long wear
• Zensah Tech+ Compression Socks – Premium option with excellent circulation support
• Copper Fit / Duluth Trading – Solid, affordable alternatives

When paired with a cushioned shoe, compression socks help:

• Reduce swelling
• Improve circulation
• Decrease leg fatigue
• Speed recovery between shoot days

How Long Should This Gear Last?

Shoes

If you’re standing on concrete regularly:

• 6–12 months with daily use
• Max-cushion shoes tend to compress faster
• Rotating two pairs can significantly extend lifespan

If the shoes still look fine but your feet hurt more than they used to, the cushioning is probably shot.

Compression Socks

• 6–12 months with regular wear
• Replace when they start feeling loose or stop providing noticeable support

Elastic breaks down quietly—most people wait too long to replace them.

Final Thoughts: This Is About Longevity

We spend thousands on cameras and computers without hesitation, but then stand all day on concrete in worn-out shoes.

That doesn’t make sense.

If you want to stay sharp, focused, and physically capable for years to come, taking care of your body is part of being a professional. Shoes and socks might not be exciting gear—but they directly affect how well you work and how long you can keep doing this.

These are the recommendations I stand behind for photographers and videographers who take their craft—and their health—seriously.

Your body is part of your kit. Treat it that way.