How Wandering Became My Practice
Many people think photography is about destinations. Big cities, dramatic landscapes, perfect light. But I realised a long time ago that most of my favorite images — and my most precious moments — came from wandering familiar and unfamiliar streets with no particular goal. That’s when I started to see photowalking not just as a method, but as an art form in itself.
A photowalk, for me, is more than walking with a camera. It’s a way of tuning in. Slowing down. Shifting from moving through a place to really seeing it. There’s something meditative about letting your feet and your eye guide each other, with no pressure to “get” anything.
What makes it an art is the mindset. You’re not rushing. You’re not chasing. You’re allowing things to appear — an old door, a fire hose, an abandoned building that you fall in love with. Photowalking isn’t about hunting images; it’s about just really looking.
Some days, I don’t take many photos at all. But I always notice more — light catching on scaffolding, a cracked wall, a bench which has been claimed by taggers.
Over time, photowalking has taught me that the image isn’t the only outcome. Sometimes the win is just feeling connected to the place I live in, or noticing that I feel better at the end of a walk than I did at the start.
If you’re interested in trying it:
- Leave the pressure behind. No goal, no route, no masterpiece required.
- Walk slowly. Stop often. Look up.
- Revisit the same spots — familiarity sharpens your eye.
- Take a random road or follow train tracks (my favourite).
- Go at different times and notice how the light shifts.
Photowalking has become part of how I think — how I connect — how I decompress. It reminds me that art isn’t always made in grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s in the simple decision to wander.
