DOES PHOTOGRAPHY NEED TO CHANGE THE WORLD?
GOLDEN GATE² San Francisco, California
The pressure isn’t to do good work.
It’s to do world-changing work.
To discover your one true gift, master it, monetize it, scale it, and leave behind a legacy.
Otherwise… what was the point?
Liz Gilbert calls this purpose anxiety.
She describes it as the belief that you're here to do one big, important thing—and if you don’t figure out what that thing is and turn it into something massive and meaningful, then you’ve failed.
Even in death, she jokes, you're not off the hook.
You’re still expected to leave a legacy behind and “change the world.”
When you hear it laid out like that, it becomes easy to recognize—not just as a cultural narrative, but as something many of us have quietly absorbed into how we think about our own work.
It leads to a subtle, but constant pressure:
To make work that means something.
To justify the time and energy we pour into our craft.
To assign it weight and prove its worth through reach, recognition, or some higher purpose.
It sounds noble.
But it’s also exhausting.
And for photographers, that pressure can creep in quietly—
disguised as ambition, or purpose, or meaning.
One of the ways I’ve felt it—quietly, over time—is in the inner questions that surface.
They don’t always come in words.
Sometimes it’s just a feeling.
A pull toward making something that means more.
Eventually, it sharpens into this:
Can photography change the world?
I’ve thought about that question. Maybe you have too.
Not always clearly.
Sometimes just a sense that the work should carry more weight.
That it should add up to something.
But what is that pull, really?
It’s ego.
Not the loud, boastful kind—
but the quiet kind that whispers:
This better matter.
This better be big.
This better prove your time wasn’t wasted.
It feeds the belief that the work should mean more—
not just to you, but to the world.
It tricks us into thinking our work needs to be validated by its outcome.
By its reach.
By how it lands with others.
But here’s the truth:
You don’t have to change the world with your photography.
You don’t even have to make masterful work.
You just have to love the process—
and be open to what it gives you in return.
Because the real gift of this craft isn’t in the legacy it leaves.
It’s in what it returns to you, again and again, as you walk the path.
It slows you down.
It sharpens how you see.
It calls you into presence.
It offers clarity. Stillness. Connection.
And yes—sometimes it resonates with others.
Sometimes it moves people, or inspires them, or meets them in a way words can’t.
That’s a beautiful thing when it happens.
But that’s not why we do it.
You show up.
You make the work.
You let it shape you.
Because the work was never the destination—
you were.
Not a legacy to leave.
But a life to live more deeply.
Not the mark you make.
But the way the process marks you.
Curious to go deeper into your own photographic path?
I lead workshops throughout the year in inspiring places like Maui, Venice, and San Francisco—designed to help you refine your vision, expand your creativity, and grow through the process.
Hi, I’m Scott Reither—fine art photographer, educator, and the founder of The Curated Landscape.
I created this space to share reflections and tools for photographers who want to go deeper—into their craft, their process, and how they connect with the world through the lens.
