Here is my Sunday thought.
Every once in a while, I browse through my Lightroom library — photographs I took five, six, even ten years ago. And you know what? Quite often, I catch myself thinking: my images were better back then than they are today.
It’s a strange feeling. On one hand, I truly hope my photography has grown, that my eye and craft have matured. On the other, I can’t shake this sensation that some of those older frames carry more weight, more freshness, more… something.
Why is that?
Part of it, I believe, comes from rising expectations. Over the years, I’ve looked at more and more incredible work by other photographers. Especially as an editor, I’m constantly immersed in great images. Naturally, my standards for my own photography have climbed higher and higher. What once felt like a strong picture now sometimes feels ordinary compared to everything else I see.
But there’s another layer. Emotional attachment. Those earlier images were born in a time when photography still felt overwhelmingly new and exciting to me. Back then, creating a good photograph wasn’t just satisfying — it was exhilarating. That joy etched itself deep into my memory, and whenever I revisit those old files, those feelings resurface. They amplify the impact of the pictures themselves.
So maybe it’s not that my older photographs were objectively better. Maybe it’s that they carry the echo of who I was back then, the thrill of those first discoveries.
What about you?
Do you ever look back at your earlier work and feel it has a special kind of power your newer images struggle to match?
I’d love to hear your thoughts on this.
Until next time,
Tomasz