Principle #3: Create for Yourself

(Trust that your audience will find you.)

Curiosity encourages us to keep learning. Looking for different perspectives challenges us to see the world in new ways. But neither of those principles matters very much if we spend our lives creating what we think everyone else wants.

At some point, every artist, photographer, musician, writer, or entrepreneur faces the same temptation.

You discover something that works.

People respond to it. They compliment it. They follow you because of it. Before long, there's an unspoken expectation that you'll keep doing the same thing over and over again.

The irony is that the very thing that attracted people in the first place was your originality.

Art has always been subjective. Every photograph, painting, song, or story will connect with some people and leave others completely unmoved. That's part of creating. Trying to make everyone happy usually results in creating something that excites no one—not even yourself.

Musicians often talk about this dilemma. Fans naturally want to hear the songs they already love, while artists feel the need to keep growing. Every new album becomes a balancing act between meeting expectations and following their own creative instincts. The artists who continue to evolve sometimes lose fans along the way—but they also create work that feels honest and keeps their passion alive.

The same thing happens outside the arts.

During my career in technology, I watched entire industries reinvent themselves. Skills that were once in high demand eventually became obsolete. People who continued learning adapted. Those who built their identity around doing only one thing often found change much more difficult.

Photography isn't much different.

It's easy to become known as "the landscape photographer," "the street photographer," or "the portrait photographer." There's nothing wrong with specializing if that's what genuinely brings you joy. But if you find yourself shooting the same subjects simply because it's what others expect from you, your creativity can slowly become a routine instead of an adventure.

One of the reasons FotoMunki exists is because I didn't want those expectations to define what I create.

Some days I want to photograph a dramatic coastline. Other days I'm drawn to abstract architecture, quiet street scenes, black-and-white images, or an old motorcycle parked in an alley. I don't see those as different identities. They're simply different expressions of the same curiosity.

Creating for yourself doesn't mean ignoring your audience.

It means staying true to the things that genuinely excite you, trusting that authenticity is more compelling than trying to follow trends or algorithms. Ironically, the more personal your work becomes, the more likely it is to resonate with people who share that same way of seeing the world.

Not everyone will connect with what you create.

That's okay.

Your goal isn't to attract everyone.

Your goal is to create work you're proud of—and trust that the people who appreciate it will eventually find you.