Clarity in the Chaos

I’ve often thought about the distance between the world of figures and the world of creativity. In my day job, dealing with accounts and payroll, there is a clear logic to everything. The numbers need to balance, the columns need to match, and there is always a definitive “right” answer.

But as I return to my photography, I’m learning that the middle of a creative process is rarely that tidy.

A couple of weeks ago, I had a simple win that reminded me why I love this journey. For a “Complementary Colours” challenge, I stayed close to home and used one of our green doors as a backdrop. I had my daughter hold a red capsicum against the green paint, and the contrast was striking (above).

I don’t always get the exact picture I envision in my head; instead, it’s a process of trial and error. I’ve learned to let the final edit surprise me, and this one was a happy surprise—the way those colours popped was exactly the kind of simple beauty I’m looking for.

Feeling a bit more confident, I decided to push myself for the following week’s theme: “Unexplored”. I scouted a few nearby spots and settled on an industrial backstreet—a place I’ve driven past for years but never actually stopped to look at.

It was a quiet Sunday evening, right as the sun was starting to dip. I felt completely out of place standing there in such an unfamiliar area, especially while trying out the multiple-exposure feature on my camera for the first time. I was attempting to experiment with the style of Thomas Vanoost—a photographer known for those complex, layered multiple exposures—and I wasn’t even sure what I was supposed to be looking for or how to frame the shot. But since there were only a few cyclists passing by, I felt brave enough to just start experimenting.

About 45 minutes later, I thought I had captured the right images—harsh, metallic lines and silhouettes—that I could work with at home. In my head, I had a vision of a complex, artistic layer. But when I got home and opened the files on my laptop, my “numbers brain” started to itch. The images weren’t the clean, intentional layers I’d hoped for. They felt, quite frankly, like a mess.

I spent hours sitting at my computer, editing and re-editing from scratch. The more I tried to “fix” it, the more frustrated I became. I wanted it to look like the work of an expert, but the harder I worked, the further away from my vision it felt.

Eventually, with the deadline looming, I had to call it done and submit it (below).

It would have been easy to look at those photos and feel like I’d failed. But as I closed my laptop, I realised something important: I had learned more in those frustrated hours of struggling with layers and light than I ever would have by just reading about the technique.

I’m starting to realise that clarity doesn’t come from planning; it comes from execution. You can analyse a technique, watch tutorials, and plan the “perfect” shot, but you don’t actually know how to do it until you’ve physically tried to move the camera.

I’m teaching myself to be okay with being a “rookie.” Someone once told me that any beginner can become an expert if they just keep practising for ten years. That thought is so liberating. It means I don’t have to be a master today. I just have to be someone who is willing to get out of the car, stand in a quiet factory street, and try.

"We often spend so much time waiting for a clear path that we forget to actually take the first step. Just start moving—you’ll figure out the rest once you’re in the middle of it."

Is there something you’ve been over-analysing because you’re afraid the result won’t be “clean” or “right” the first time? What would happen if you gave yourself permission to just make a mess of it today, simply to see what you might learn?

With love & gratitude,

Thanks for being here. Simply Kysemi is a space where I’m practising a slower, more intentional pace. To keep things calm, I check my messages and comments only when I have the time. I truly appreciate your thoughts and will get back to you as soon as my schedule allows.