What are your values as a photographer?
I remember a job I turned down a few years ago. A company wanted photos of their staff, nothing unusual, but the brief didn't feel right. They wanted to present people in a way I didn't find credible. Posed, polished, without any authenticity. I declined the job.
Afterwards, someone asked me why. I said something about style, about approach, about it not being a good fit. But the real answer was simpler: it conflicted with what I care about. Authenticity. Photographing people as they are, not as a brief says they should be.
That sounds obvious when you write it down like that. But in the moment itself, I hadn't framed it that clearly. I felt something was off, but I didn't know exactly why.
That's the difference between intuition and values. Intuition says: this doesn't feel right. Values say: this is why.
What values are and what they are not
Values are not the same as goals. A goal is something you want to achieve: more commissions, publishing a book, developing a certain style. A value is something that determines how you pursue those goals, and which goals you pursue in the first place.
Values are also not the same as rules. A rule is imposed from outside or created by yourself as a guideline. A value runs deeper. It's something you can't get around without feeling like you're giving up something essential.
For photographers, values are often unspoken. You only notice them when they are challenged. When someone asks you to make something you don't want to make. When you notice your work is heading in a direction you didn't intend. When you look back at a shoot in the evening and think: that wasn't right, but I'm not sure exactly why.
Why naming them helps
I spent a while working without having named my values. I photographed broadly, took on many jobs, tried all kinds of things. That's fine, especially in the beginning. But at some point I noticed I was making choices that didn't fit together. I said yes to things I didn't really want to do, and no to things I would have wanted but hadn't recognised as an opportunity.
When I started thinking more carefully about what I actually cared about, those choices became easier. Not because I had made a list of rules, but because I had a compass. Something that said: this fits, this doesn't.
That compass helps with your work itself too. If you know you value honesty in images, you look differently on the street. If you know that connection between people drives you, you look for different moments than if you're primarily interested in abstract compositions. Your values guide your eye, even when you're not aware of it.
Stillness as a condition
There is one thing I have learned about thinking through your values: it doesn't work when you're in a hurry.
Not because it's difficult, but because the answers you give under pressure are often the answers you think you're supposed to give. What matters to me as a photographer? Quality. Honesty. Craftsmanship. Those are good answers, but they are also safe answers. They don't say much about who you specifically are.
The real answers come when you take your time. When you don't fill in what's expected, but simply sit with the question for a moment. What would I lose if I stopped? Which photos am I proud of, and why those? What do I refuse to photograph, and what does that say about me?
That kind of question needs time. And stillness.
That's why the values compass and the meditation for photographers on apps.michielheijmans.com are deliberately placed side by side. The values compass helps you get clear on what you care about and how that shapes your work. The meditation for photographers helps you settle first, so you can ask those questions without immediately having an answer ready.
Both tools are free. They are also linked to the tool for limiting beliefs, for when you notice there are thoughts holding you back that you've never properly examined.
What this is not
This is not a call to analyse yourself until it drives you mad. Values are not therapy, and a moodboard for your soul isn't necessary either.
It's simply a moment to pause and ask: why do I take photographs, and what matters to me in that? Not as some grand existential exercise, but as a practical check. Does what I'm doing still align with what I want to do?
That question is worth asking. Especially when you notice your work is running on autopilot, or when you're making choices that don't feel quite right afterwards.
Where to start
Take ten minutes. Write down which three photos have satisfied you most recently, and what they have in common. Also write down which job or moment satisfied you least, and why.
Look at those two lists. Your values are hidden in there.
The rest you can work through with the values compass, if you want. But those ten minutes with a blank page are a perfectly good place to start.