This post is a personal reflection on how social media once shaped the way I saw and shot the world, and how stepping back from that pressure helped me reconnect with the real heart of photography. It’s something I now bring into every tour I lead: slowing down, being present, and creating images that mean something.
At the start of my photography journey in early 2013, I remember spending hours searching for inspiration. I’d google photographers, scroll through their websites, and soak up the way they saw the world. Back then, I was more free in what I photographed. I wasn’t chasing likes or shooting for algorithms. I wasn’t following the crowd. I was just learning, exploring, and photographing what caught my eye.
Instagram was already a thing, but only for iOS users. It wasn’t until around 2015 that it really took off. Looking back through my old photos, that’s when I started to notice a shift. I was beginning to shoot what everyone else was shooting. I’d filled my feed with pictures of Ireland, and suddenly that’s all the algorithm wanted to show me. My world became a curated loop of cliffs, coastlines, and golden light.
The problem is, once you start only seeing one kind of image, you start believing that’s all that matters. My feed became an echo chamber, showing me what I’d already looked at, what I’d already liked. And without even realising it, I started to think that was the only way to photograph a place.
When I’d travel somewhere new, I’d head straight for the classic spots I’d seen online. Iceland, Norway, the Dolomites. I wasn’t walking into these places with fresh eyes anymore. I had a mental checklist of compositions I’d already seen. And when the light wasn’t the same, or the mood didn’t match what I’d imagined, I’d leave disappointed.
Then COVID hit.
Like a lot of people, I found myself doom-scrolling through images of places I couldn’t visit. I started questioning everything. Why didn’t my work look like that? Why wasn’t I getting the same engagement? It really got to me. I lost confidence in my own photography, and it started to take a toll on my mental health.
Eventually, I knew something had to change.
I deleted the apps from my phone. I stopped scrolling. And slowly, I started to feel like myself again behind the camera. These days, I only install the apps when I’m travelling, and even then, it’s just to post stories. Everything else gets posted from my desktop. I don’t scroll. I don’t compare. I just share and move on.
And something else changed too. When I go to new places now, I don’t look them up beforehand. I want to discover them for myself. I want to respond to the light, the atmosphere, the feeling in the moment, not to a photo someone else already made.
That shift has made photography feel fresh again. More honest. More mine.
How Algorithms Shape What We See
Social media has many positives, it connects us, inspires us, and shares beautiful scenes worldwide. However social media doesn’t just show us content at random. It shows us things it thinks we’ll like, based on what we’ve looked at, liked, saved or shared before. So if you’ve spent time looking at photos from Ireland, or mountain landscapes, or cafe racer style motorbikes, the algorithm will keep feeding you more of the same.
It becomes a loop. The more you look at something, the more you’re shown it. And without even noticing, your ideas about photography, what’s good and what’s worth shooting, start to narrow.
Trapped in the Echo Chamber
An echo chamber is what happens when you’re only exposed to the same kind of content, ideas, or opinions over and over again. On social media, this is usually driven by algorithms showing you more of what you’ve already liked, saved or engaged with and less of everything else. It creates this closed loop, where you’re constantly seeing the same styles, the same locations, the same edits, until it starts to feel like that’s what photography is supposed to look like.
What I didn’t realise early on was how much this affected the way I saw the world. Because I’d been looking at so many similar photos, I started to think that’s what my images should look like too. When I arrived in these places, I was chasing the same kind of shot I’d seen online, often without knowing anything about the conditions, the effort it took, or the lucky moment behind that original image.
And when my own shots didn’t match what I’d seen online, I felt like I’d failed.
I’ve seen this time and time again on my tours. We’ll be standing in front of something absolutely breathtaking, maybe it’s the light, the mood, or just the raw feeling of the place, and someone will choose not to take a photo. Not because the scene isn’t beautiful, but because no one with a big following has photographed it before. It’s almost like, if the big influencers haven’t posted it, then it must not be worth capturing.
That mindset can really hold people back. It stops them from seeing what’s actually there, right in front of them. They’re so focused on recreating a version of the scene they’ve already seen online, they miss the magic unfolding in real time.
Over the years, something has stuck with me. Maybe I read it somewhere, or maybe I came up with it myself during one of those moments out in the field, but it’s become a bit of a mantra for me and something I often share on my tours:
Shoot what you’re given, not what you wanted, otherwise you’re going to go home severely disappointed.
And it’s true. The weather, the light, the mood, none of it cares what you had in mind. But if you stay open to what’s actually happening in front of you, there’s almost always a photo to be made. It might not be the one you pictured in your head, but it might just be something better. More real. More yours.
The Rise of the “Nice” Photo
There’s also this trend I’ve noticed over the years. The rise of the “nice” photo. Soft lighting, clean edits, warm colours, balanced compositions. It all looks good. It’s pleasing to the eye. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
But when every image is edited and styled to look a certain way, it all starts to blur together. It becomes hard to tell who took what. And more importantly, it becomes hard to feel anything from the images beyond “Oh, that’s pretty.”
Photography should make us feel something. Surprise, curiosity, stillness, even discomfort. But if we’re all trying to fit into the same mould, we lose that emotional edge. And in the process, we lose the connection that makes an image stick.
Reconnecting with Real Photography
Stepping away from the constant scrolling gave me the space to reconnect with photography in a different way. Without the noise of other people’s images in my head, I started paying more attention to what I actually felt in the places I visited.
I realised that for me, photography isn’t just about pressing a button, it’s about connection. If I don’t feel anything for what’s in front of my lens, it usually shows. The best images I’ve taken have come from moments where I wasn’t trying to copy something I’d seen online, but when I genuinely felt something. When I was moved by the light, the atmosphere, or the story of the place.
That’s when a photo becomes more than just a picture. That’s when it means something.
Of course, there have also been times when I’ve turned up somewhere that looks absolutely stunning and still felt nothing. The location might be perfect on paper, but if the light isn’t right, or the mood doesn’t hit me, the image just doesn’t come together. And that’s okay. It doesn’t mean the location isn’t worth photographing. It just means this isn’t the moment. Maybe next time, under different skies, it’ll come alive.
These days, when I lead tours or head out to shoot, I don’t rush to get the camera out. I try to slow down. I walk around a bit. I listen. I breathe. I let the place settle in before trying to capture anything.
Some of my favourite moments with photography have come from the most unexpected places. Maybe I’m driving along, not even planning to stop, and suddenly the light shifts in a way I just can’t ignore. Or I’ll turn a corner and there’s a scene I hadn’t even imagined, bathed in atmosphere and totally unplanned. These aren’t the places I’d looked up online or put on a shot list they’re moments that just happened. And that’s part of the magic.
And when I do that, something shifts. I start to see differently. I notice the curve of a rock, the way the light catches the land, the sound of the wind in the grass. That quiet moment of stillness helps me tune in to where I am. And once I feel that connection, the photos I take come from a much deeper place.
They’re not for the algorithm. They’re not for likes.
They’re for me.
And that’s when photography really starts to mean something again.
Final Thoughts on Photography and Social Media
I don’t think the algorithm is the enemy. But I do think it’s worth being aware of how it shapes us. If we spend all our time scrolling through the same kind of content, we start to shoot the same kind of images. And the danger is, we lose the very thing that makes our work personal.
If you’re feeling stuck, take a step back. Go for a walk. Leave the phone at home. Look with your own eyes.
Because the best photos don’t come from copying what you’ve seen. They come from truly seeing it for yourself.
If this way of thinking about photography speaks to you, you’d probably enjoy one of my tours.
I don’t just take people to beautiful places. I help them see those places with fresh eyes. We slow down, chase the best light, and create space for more personal, thoughtful images. No pressure to shoot what’s popular. Just time to feel, explore, and reconnect with why you picked up a camera in the first place.
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