I Keep on Failing

We set ourselves an expectation that your failures should be minimal as you progress in your career. Surely, the more skilful you are, the less you fail.

I’m almost ten years into my career as a photographer, and my failures seem to have defined the last decade more than the successes.

Take, for example, my YouTube channel.

I started my YouTube channel when I was in my second year at University. A year prior, I had quit my part-time job and moved 200 miles across the country to pursue a graphic design degree, only to soon realise that I didn’t want to be a graphic designer.

I was working as a photographer alongside my studies, but had no formal training as one. I hadn’t participated in the workshops where you’re taught how to use a studio, and I wasn’t privy to an instructor walking me through the ins and outs of my crop-sensor DSLR that I had been using for the past few years. Everything I had learned had been through trial and error — and YouTube.

YouTube, in my view, is the singular best resource for creatives in the 21st century.

If there’s something you want to learn, you can learn it there. You’re able to access the thought processes, the understandings and the teachings of thousands of creators who you otherwise wouldn’t be exposed to. And all for free.

I would spend my free time delving into the channels of Jessica Kobeissi, Jessica Whitaker and Julia Trotti, to name just some of the amazing photographers who share their journey and their findings on YouTube.

Something about what they were doing and the way they were sharing their work prompted me to take to YouTube myself.

At this point, I didn’t know anything about videography. I don’t think I could even change the frame rate on the camera I was using back then, but I started a channel anyway.

YouTube, yet again, changed my career, but this time, in a different way.

I now had an outlet to explore my creativity, learn new skills, and engage in a like-minded community that allowed me to push the boundaries of my skills. I learned how to shoot on film, documenting all of my many mistakes along the way. I learned more about videography by forcing myself to make videos, sometimes weekly. I learned about studio photography and artificial lighting, thanks to the sponsors and companies who trusted me enough to test their products. And I documented all of my mistakes along the way.

Failing, publicly, taught me the difference between failure and incompetence.

To learn and succeed, you must at first fail.

I’m Still Failing

Years on from first picking up a camera, years on from starting my YouTube channel, I’m still failing.

In February, I set myself a challenge: try something new, everyday for 30 days.

I wanted to force myself into trying new skills that I hadn’t tried before because I was afraid to fail. Shooting long exposures on film, editing in CaptureOne, experimenting with mixed media editing.

Throughout the month, I had more failures than successes.

I had broken cameras, I had ruined rolls of film, and I had countless hours of trying new things for them not to work at all.

But, equally, I learned a lot.

Not only did I pick up some new skills and get acquainted with techniques I wish I had learned a long time ago, but I also learnt the importance of preparation. I learnt that not all ideas are good ideas, and that failure is, in fact, always going to be a part of the process.

More recently, I’ve continued to fail.

Last week, I spent a few days in the Lakes. I shot 10 rolls of film and only a handful of successful photos.

I accidentally rated a roll of Ektar 100 at 400. I ended up with a blank roll because I didn’t realise that my Pentax 67 wasn’t advancing properly. I carelessly didn’t wind a roll of Cinestill 400T tight enough and ended up with a roll of light leaks.

The other yesterday, I spent the day in the darkroom for a full day of printing. It’s the first full day I’ve allocated for myself in the darkroom in over a year, and to say I was rusty is an understatement.

I accidentally exposed a print to the light without realising. I didn’t fit the lens tightly enough when switching between printing mediums. I left the colour filter lever down, giving my contact sheet an entire red wash.

Failed It!

A couple of years ago, my best friend bought me a book called Failed It!, written by Erik Kessels.

"Just when you think you’re finished, let it go. Drop the soufflé. Let the neighbour’s kid put the final touches on the flower arrangement. Finish the canvas blindfolded.” Erik Kessels, Failed It!

The book is full of examples of creative mistakes. Some that worked out, others that didn’t. It describes itself as a book on “how to turn mistakes into ideas and other advice for successfully screwing up”.

One of the most poignant notions it describes is about how the amateur is not afraid to fail. When you start out with something, you have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Experimenting is the only thing you can do to advance, and so you do it. Carelessly.

“An amateur’s gift is naivety. If you don’t know the rules, you don’t know not to break them. The amateur doesn’t fear failure.” Erik Kessels, Failed It!

As we get later on into our career, I think we become more afraid to fail. We conflate failure with inability. If we try something new and we fail, others will think less of us in our field of work. And so the curse of never trying anything new, in case you fail in front of others, is born. To not discredit the work that we’re doing, we draw ourselves a ceiling that we’re afraid to break through.

Fear Less, Fail More

“Don’t coddle your ideas hoping to avoid an epic fail, because the annals of invention are filled with beautiful mistakes.” Erik Kessels, Failed It!

I think that trial and error is the best way to become an expert in something. Trying new things, failing, and learning will give you a much better understanding of something than succeeding the first time.

Failing is learning.

It took me six years and four tests to pass my driving test. I failed three times. All for stupid things, like parking with my wheel on the white line in an empty car park (the reason I failed test number two), which was frustrating in the moment but by the time I eventually passed my test, I had so much more experience and confidence in driving than I would have if I’d passed first time, aged 17.

Maybe the way to view failure is, instead, as an opportunity to gain more experience.

I encourage you to fail more throughout the rest of this year; attempt new things that you’ve been putting off for fear of not getting it right the first time around; try your hand at that skill that you’ve been thinking about for the last five years.

Here’s to fearing less and failing more.