Stop thinking big, or: How I learned to stop worrying and love thinking small.

I was always told to dream big. In my household, good enough meant only the best. By the time I was 18, I was certain I was destined to be the next Trump. And, I suppose, insofar as being obnoxious and delusional went, that part I had down pat. The rest, not so much. But, hey, I did manage to get to New York in the end, right? Dream big – that’s what I was told, and that’s what I did. After all, you only hit what you aim for, right? Instead, I just felt like a failure. For wanting the wrong things and going the wrong places.

I tend to think that delusion begets more delusion. It turns everything into an objective, it makes every person a tool. It encourages pie in the sky thinking without taking the time to see if you actually enjoy what you do. There’s you, and there’s everything everyone told you you’re supposed to be. They bare little resemblance to each other. The part of me that really wanted a whole team of associates was my ego and my insecurity. The reality is that it’s only worth it if you find the people to make it worth it. Otherwise, it’s just one more hassle and that much more grief. You don’t have to think big to avoid shortchanging yourself. And it’s not just about the money. But I knew that, didn’t I? Apparently I didn’t.

The problem with money is that the more you have, the less it’s worth. It’s like stuffing feathers into the box. It doesn’t take much to fill the box, but you can keep stuffing more and more in. Happiness only needs to have so much space filled. There’s happy and not. There isn’t endless elation. That’s called heroin. And that comes crashing down. My favorite times in life weren’t when I had so much I didn’t have to want. It was when I wanted so much, that wanting mattered. A $.10 pack of gum I bought at 7-11 when I was a kid. The first camera I owned. Getting a hamburger to eat at the beach after an exhausting day. Being happy doesn’t cost a whole lot.

I spent a good amount of time running my business with one singular objective. Growth. That seemed to be what everyone around me thought I was supposed to do. I wanted to be a name brand. I wanted to see my name in lights. I felt ripped off when the economy came tumbling down in 2008. I was sure I deserved more, and I was simply being robbed, because I didn’t get in early enough. But I think people get what they get, and there’s not much more too it. If I didn’t get there, I wasn’t meant to get there. There is no ripped off. I didn’t do what I needed to do, and it simply wasn’t meant to be. Yet all of those dreams, blinded me from enjoying what I did have.

I just went on a trip with my 5-year-old son to Legoland. It was magic. Not Legoland, but being with him, seeing the person he was. He loves Legos, and his excitement was infectious. Spending nights in the hotel room with him and seeing his pre-sleep routine was magic. It was like getting reacquainted with life. I couldn’t imagine a better life then one with family. When, at the end of the day, he said goodbye to the park, waved, and said to it that he would revisit soon, I was breathless. It was a perfect day.

There were two things I learned from that trip. First, life needs no embellishment. When it comes down to it, any creative embellishments will pale in comparison to preserving the simplest and most-cherished memories. Creativity should serve those memories, not distract from them. Those memories form us and power us as people. I think that every event photographer owes it to their clients to know their craft and put the event first. I’ve used any number of tricks over the years, but though we may become numb to the cliches after awhile, a wedding is just as they say it is. It should be treasured and respected. It is unique, it is powerful, and it is wonderful. It is not a marketing opportunity, an editorial spread, two models posing for an ad, or an endless parade of well-worn tricks. If we owe it to ourselves to do what is special to us, we owe it to our clients to find what is special about them. We need to search so hard our eyes burn, and our images have sucked into them every bit of our souls we could give them. We become them, and they become us. It is the best of exchanges. No list of shots-of-the-moment can ever replace that. It is not a creative exercise first and a human event second. It is a human event, period.

The second thing is that bigger is not better. I’ve spent the better part of a decade doing this now, and for a good part of it, it was all for nothing. Because if your business becomes so all-consuming that you’re not enjoying the ride, and you’re thinking of yourself as a failure, and you’re putting in the hours that you started your own business to avoid, it’s not doing what it should be. Every year was profitable, every year had growth, I met great people, and my family has had what it needed. What was there not to enjoy? Small is good. Small is wonderful. It means you can work on your craft in relative obscurity without all eyes on you. It means you can make-up the rules you want. It means your overhead is low, and you can try new things. I thought success in business meant getting your name plastered all over. That it meant everyone would respect you. That you had to just keep growing and growing. Success in business is none of that. What I’ve learned is simple. Much simpler then any business model or a photographic technique. But, I think, more valuable. Anyone who makes a living, keeps the bookings coming in, enjoys what they do, and keeps on growing as a person – that’s something to hold your head up high for. Be proud of it. Being small is living large.