“Do We Need to Capture Images Every Day?”
The Pressures of Social Media and Storytelling Through Photography
I’m someone who carries my camera and my phone with me every single day, hoping to capture that perfect image – the one worthy of sharing on social media.
For me, and I can only speak for myself, it’s challenging – almost disheartening – to keep up with the pressures of social media and its algorithm. I’m the kind of photographer who takes photos based on emotions: the ones I’m feeling or the emotions reflected in my subject. Whether it’s street photography, architectural photography – or honestly, any kind of photography – I’m a storyteller. And telling a story every day, narrating something meaningful for my viewers isn’t easy.
“The silent scream – the frustration of pouring your soul into your work, only to feel it drowned out by algorithms and fleeting metrics.”
I know I don’t have to post every day. Don’t get me wrong. But the pressure is still there: post three times a week, engage with your followers, keep up with the people you follow, and maintain visibility. Then there’s everything else that comes with social media – the headaches, the burnout, and that nagging feeling of failure when you post an image that holds deep meaning for you, but it doesn’t “perform well” because it didn’t align with the algorithm.
“Listening to the algorithm’s whispers – trying to hear my own voice through the static.”
I often find myself scrolling through my own Instagram profile, questioning: Am I truly a good enough photographer?
I realize I’m measuring my worth through likes, comments, and engagement metrics – basing the value of my work on fleeting numbers rather than the stories I’ve poured my emotions into. It’s easy to forget that photography is more than an algorithm. It’s about connection, emotion, and storytelling. But when those things aren’t reflected in the numbers, it’s hard not to feel like something’s missing.
I’ve been told that having deep connections with the images we take isn’t “good,” especially when sharing them on social media. But how can we not have a deep connection with our work – with the stories we’re telling? We’ve invested time, poured our emotions into it, and, let’s be honest, spent our money on it. Of course, it’s hard not to feel attached to an image.
I’m not going to share a photo unless I’m proud of it.
On my camera roll, I currently have just over 40,000 photos. Out of all those images, I’ve posted only 271 on social media. That’s nothing compared to the volume of work I’ve created. Each photo holds a moment, a memory, a story – but I’ve chosen to share only a small percentage of them. Not because the others aren’t good enough, but because I don’t want to over-post. I don’t want to shout into the void just for the sake of staying consistent.
Photography, for me, isn’t about meeting a content quota. It’s about connection – real, emotional, meaningful connection. And that’s not something I can force three times a week just to satisfy an algorithm.
Sometimes, my thoughts drift toward deleting social media from my devices entirely – hoping it might help me reset, to find myself again through my photography. I know that sounds deep, maybe even dramatic, but honestly, I wonder if the constant pull of social media – the endless comparisons we make with others in our field – is simply too much for me.
What if stepping away is exactly what I need?
What if rediscovering photography for the pure, unfiltered beauty it holds, without the noise of algorithms and engagement metrics, could do me a world of good?
I find myself daydreaming about having a gallery opening – not for the sales, not for the validation, but simply to showcase my work. To see my images displayed the way art was once shared before social media before the internet took over our lives. A space where people could stand in front of a photograph, linger, reflect, and feel – without the distraction of scrolling to the next post.
But then reality creeps in. Will that even work in this day and age?
How would galleries or agencies take me seriously if I’m not fully engaged with the reality of today’s art world – social media, online presence, and constant visibility?
Is it still possible?
Is it worth trying?
These are the questions I find myself asking over and over. Maybe I shouldn’t overthink it. Maybe the answer isn’t in questioning but in simply doing. In creating, showcasing, and sharing in a way that feels authentic to me – whether or not it fits into the neatly packaged expectations of the digital world.
Do you want to know something funny?
I’m writing this intending to publish it on Medium – using the very tools of the modern age to my advantage. It’s ironic, isn’t it? The same digital world I’m questioning is the one I’m relying on to share these thoughts. It’s within us, woven so deeply into our daily lives, and it’s frightening just how much power it holds over us.
Maybe, for the sake of practice – or perhaps for my own sanity – I should allow myself 30 days without any social media presence.
No Instagram.
No Facebook.
No YouTube.
A full reset.
Not just to break the habit, but to reclaim my time, to stop feeding an addiction I didn’t even realize had grown so strong, and most importantly, to stop comparing myself to other creatives. To sit with my own work without the background noise of what everyone else is doing.
I want to be clear – I don’t want this article to sound like I’m positioning myself as some sort of martyr for the modern age, rejecting progress or romanticizing the past. That’s not my point. I’ve learned so much through the internet. I continue to learn every day. Social media has connected me with incredible artists, ideas, and opportunities I might never have found otherwise.
I’m not criticizing these platforms.
I’m not blaming them.
I’m simply reflecting on what might be best for me – what might help my creativity flourish.
Maybe it’s less about escaping the digital world and more about redefining my relationship with it.
Maybe it’s about finding balance, not absence.
Maybe it’s time to stop asking for permission – from algorithms, from trends, even from myself – and just create.
“Returning to where it all begins – curiosity without comparison, creation without expectation.”
