As I'll be spending the next two months back in South Africa with few to zero plans other than to follow my nose and explore more creative writing, the ebb and flow of creativity itself has been on my mind. It's a cycle that has come to be quite natural, even necessary, for me as an artist: oscillating between time for creation and time for thought. There is a balance to be struck, however. Too much of one and the other suffers. Seeing compositions takes practice in the field, but seeing novel compositions often requires new ideas born out of contemplation. I need to flow back and forth between these two states. I have no doubt I'll be spending time at local haunts (like my favourite spot below, just twenty minutes from my front door) experimenting with the lens, as well as time reading books or pouring over maps dreaming up concepts for new projects.

Recently, I had an interesting conversation about Australia’s recent ban on social media for young people. We agreed that it was probably for the best — it’s clear that the constant feed of information and dopamine has deeply reduced our collective attention span (thankfully there is still a movement of thoughtful people who actively look for slower means of digesting content, like yourself reading this blog). As someone who grew up on the cusp of the information and technological era, I’m endlessly grateful that my childhood was spent playing outdoors and coming up with made-up games rather than with access to an iPad. When you have a device that fills every second of downtime, what is the role of boredom in our society? How important is it?

It seems a whole generation is going to have to grapple with this question, as for the first time in their lives they won’t have access to “brain rot” and endless 10 second-long videos. For me, boredom is crucial. It allows myself to access that childhood wonder. When there is nothing external vying for my attention, my mind is free to wonder and create for itself. This is, in many ways, why I love long-distance hiking and off-grid adventures so much. A forced digital detox that reconnects us with the real world, for it is nature itself that I have found is always my biggest source of inspiration. When I doubt where I am in the creative cycle, (I’ll write separately on creative confidence in the future), coming back to nature is usually the solution.

Recognising that it’s okay to not always be in a creative mindset is part of the struggle too. It’s regular for me to go through times where I am looking for something, seeking, or searching, rather than creating, experimenting, or producing. This can be frustrating when you want to feel “productive” — but we can grow artistically in many ways, not just by making photographs. There is much more to being a photographer than just making photographs.

Every artist must learn their own seasonal rhythm. Summer is usually my downtime. Autumn ramps up quickly, arriving as soon as it disappears. Winter sometimes bring a creative freeze, but eventually there is a thaw and I create once more. Spring grows new energy and new ideas. Allow time for creation and time for thought. Both are essential to the creative process.

Thanks for reading this blog post! I’ll be trying to write more short format observations, intuitions, and thought experiments about photography and creativity throughout 2026, so stay tuned.

The Seasons of Creativity

Has the Content Bubble Finally Burst?

Lessons from Photography in 2024 (and My Favourite Images of the Year)