A Different Measure Of Success
A few days ago, I found myself standing in my bathroom.
Not a sentence most people would expect at the beginning of a blog post.
Not testimonials. Memories.
There are no awards hanging on the walls.
No certificates.
No magazine covers.
No reminders of achievements.
Instead, there are messages.
Lot of them.
Written in chalk by people who passed through my life over the years. Clients. Friends. Guests. Strangers who became something else.
Some messages are large.
Some are barely readable.
A few words.
A name.
A heart.
A small drawing.
Nothing planned.
Nothing requested.
And maybe that's exactly why they matter.
For a long time, I believed success was something you could measure.
In followers.
In bookings.
In publications.
In numbers.
Most of us do.
We compare.
We evaluate.
We wonder if we're doing enough.
Meanwhile, we often overlook the things that can't be counted.
The person who walks home standing a little taller after a portrait session.
The woman who sees herself differently for the first time in years.
The conversation that stays with someone long after the photographs are delivered.
The moment a person realizes they don't need to pretend.
None of these things appear on a spreadsheet.
Yet they may be the most valuable things we leave behind.
As a photographer, I used to think my job was to create images.
Today, I see it differently.
The images are only part of the story.
People rarely remember the camera.
They remember how they felt.
Whether they felt welcome.
Whether they felt safe.
Whether, for a brief moment, they were allowed to simply be themselves.
When I look at that wall today, I don't see my work.
I see encounters.
I see laughter.
Conversations.
Moments that existed long before the shutter was pressed and continued long after.
Most of all, I see a reminder of something I occasionally forget myself:
The most meaningful things we create are not objects.
They are experiences.
Connections.
Memories.
The invisible marks we leave on other people's lives.
Maybe that's why I've started asking a different question.
Not:
"Look what I created."
But:
"Look who I touched."
Maybe success isn't measured by the photographs I've made.
Maybe it's measured by how many people felt seen, welcomed, understood, or inspired after our paths crossed.
Because in the end, people may forget the photograph.
But they rarely forget how they felt while sharing a moment with me.
Images and Text © Sascha van der Werf
