Why Shooting More Photos Won’t Make You a Better Photographer (at least not the way you think)
A few years ago, during one of my workshops, a participant told me something that stayed with me.
He said he had not been shooting much because he wanted to wait until he felt ready to create stronger images.
He was not avoiding photography. He was studying all the time. Tutorials, books, other photographers’ work. He simply was not taking photos.
I understood him. When you care about photography, it feels logical to prepare more before acting.
I recently read a story about a ceramics class that explained this idea well. The teacher split students into two groups. One group was judged on quantity. The other was judged on quality. At the end the strongest work came from the group focused on quantity.
At first this seems to confirm the usual advice. Shoot more.
But the real point sits somewhere else. Once you notice it, your view of learning shifts.
1. Why “Just Shoot More” Isn’t Enough
The internet loves simple advice. Shoot more. Post more. Practice more.
Well, quantity matters. It would be naive to pretend otherwise. No one improves without taking photos. Yet many photographers shoot thousands of frames and still feel stuck. Not because they lack effort. Often, because they misunderstand how progress happens.
The real engine behind improvement isn’t volume.
It’s iteration.
You try something. You notice what worked and what did not. You adjust. Each attempt gives feedback.
Without reflection repetition becomes noise. With reflection repetition becomes learning.
2. The Real Practice Happens After You Press the Shutter
One idea from the article stayed with me: an iteration isn’t a finished piece.
An iteration is any effort that generates actionable feedback.
This changes how practice feels. Instead of asking if the image is good, you start asking what the image teaches you.
Even imperfect frames become valuable.
This is also why social media can unintentionally slow growth. Constant publishing feels productive, but visibility is not the same as learning. Likes are reactions; feedback is insight. Real improvement often happens in quieter phases — experimenting with variations of the same scene, repeating small adjustments intentionally, revisiting locations with a specific question in mind.
Most photographers experiment more than they share. You just don’t see that part.
3. A Simple Way to Learn Faster From Every Shoot
Next time you go out with your camera try a small shift.
Do not aim for your best image. Choose one clear question. Focus on how foreground changes depth. Focus on how light changes mood. Focus on how empty space changes balance.
Repeat the same scene with small changes. Keep the subject constant. Change your decisions.
You can also try:
Photograph one scene using three focal lengths intentionally.
Revisit the same location on three different days with one specific compositional constraint.
These exercises feel simple. They teach you how choices affect the frame. Over time, the idea of iteration becomes easier to understand.
Joe Cornish demonstrates a comparable approach in the video below, using different focal lengths from consistent viewpoints to explore how composition evolves through small changes.
4. Two Phases Every Photographer Moves Through (But Few Recognise)
Once you start thinking in terms of iteration, another pattern becomes clear.
The first is discovery. You explore and try new ideas. This stage feels open and playful.
Then comes refinement. You take something promising and shape it with intention. This stage moves more slowly. It builds depth.
Refinement often means returning to the same scene with more awareness each time. Patience matters here. Many people skip this stage because it feels less exciting. This is where a personal voice begins to appear.
Many photographers struggle because their learning loop breaks without them noticing. They ignore feedback. They know something is wrong but avoid fixing it. They copy suggestions without thinking. They practice skills that do not match their goals. Feedback arrives too late.
The tighter and more honest your feedback loop becomes, the faster you grow.
What begins as a technical process slowly changes how you see.
5. Design Progress, Not Perfection
If there’s one belief worth questioning, it’s this:
Improvement does not come from shooting more alone. It comes from understanding what each attempt teaches you.
Once you begin working through deliberate iterations, something subtle shifts. Photography stops feeling like a series of isolated successes or failures and starts becoming a continuous process of refinement.
Instead of asking if you created a great image, you start asking what you learned about your way of seeing.
You’re no longer chasing perfection in single moments. You’re building progress across many small decisions.
And paradoxically, this is often when stronger images begin to emerge — not because you forced them, but because your way of seeing has progressively evolved.
6. A Different Way to Move Forward
The ceramics story wasn’t really about quantity.
It showed the value of staying inside the learning loop long enough for skill to develop.
The photographers who grow the most are not always the ones who travel further or use newer gear. They pay attention differently. They notice patterns. They observe what works and what does not.
Photography stops feeling like a chase for perfect moments. It becomes a process of understanding built through many small choices. The pressure to create something extraordinary every time you go out fades, replaced by curiosity — and curiosity is a much better teacher than pressure.
Maybe that’s the real difference between simply taking photographs and truly learning photography.
Over time, each frame feels less like a final result and more like part of an ongoing conversation with light and with your own perception.
And once you start thinking this way, improvement feels less like something you have to force, and more like something that happens because you’re finally learning what to notice.
What about you?
When you look back at your own photographs, where do you start to notice patterns?
Is it in the moments when you weren’t quite sure what mattered? When you tried to include too much? Or when you hesitated instead of fully committing to what drew your attention?
Sometimes the real learning doesn’t happen while we’re shooting, but later, when we begin to recognise these patterns more clearly.
If this idea resonates with you, I’d be genuinely curious to hear your perspective in the comments.
Thanks for reading.
About Andrea
I help photographers create stronger, more intentional landscape images by developing both their technical skills and creative vision.
With over 15 years of experience, I run immersive landscape photography workshops and hands-on field sessions where photographers, from beginners to advanced, learn to master camera technique, understand light and composition, and make the decisions that shape compelling photographs.
Join Me on a Photograhy Workshop
If you want to learn more about light, composition, technique, and improve your photography and editing skills at a deeper, more personalized level, I’d love to have you join me in one of my photography workshops, where we’ll work hands-on in stunning locations to level up both your editing and field techniques. If you’re interested, click the link below for all the details and sign up!
