Stillness Between the Lines
A reflection on comparison, presence, and the quiet work of creating
I sometimes find myself quietly comparing—my work, my voice, my path—to others. The photographers who seem to have the dream clients. The designers whose spaces sing with clarity. The artists who appear effortless. But behind every image is a process. And behind every process, a human heart—often doubting, questioning, trying to stay close to the truth of what we see.
Comparison, for creatives, can be a daily practice we never meant to choose. It arrives subtly. One Instagram scroll. One portfolio. One moment of wondering, “Am I enough?” It can leave us feeling both inspired and somehow lesser—intimidated not just by the work, but by the imagined ease behind it.
I’ve felt that. I still do sometimes. But what I’ve learned is that intimidation and admiration often share a root: deep respect. Sometimes it pushes us forward. Sometimes it presses on our fears. The trick, I think, is to let it open us rather than close us. To remember that we are not here to compete with others, but to create from our own inner clarity. Sometimes easier to say than do.
The creative process isn’t clean. It’s not perfect. It’s messy and nonlinear and full of moments where we’re not sure what we’re doing. But doubt doesn’t mean we’re lost. It means we’re searching—and that, too, is part of the art.
As a photographer, I try to approach each space with presence. Not to impose my vision over it, but to witness it. To understand what the interior designer or architect hoped to express. To feel the rhythm of the room. The harmony of the materials. The silence or the energy in the light.
My camera isn’t there to conquer the space. It’s there to collaborate with it. I try to. Somewhere along the way, in this industry, it can start to feel like photographer versus designer. Like we’re all trying to protect our vision. But the best work I’ve made comes from trust. From listening. From a shared goal of honoring the space—not for our egos, but for the story it tells.
Because in the end, the image is what stays. The space may be repainted, restyled, even sold—but the photograph becomes the memory. The record. The emotion. That’s a responsibility I take seriously.
And so I keep learning. I keep showing up. I try to be brave enough to stay soft. To admire others without losing my own path. To know that the best thing I can bring to any project… is presence.
What Helps Me Come Back to Center
When I feel overwhelmed, unsure, or caught in the spiral of comparison, I’ve learned to come back to the present. Slowly. Kindly.
These are a few things that help me reconnect to myself and my work:
Slowing down. Even five minutes of stillness—no phone, no task—just pausing to breathe and feel my feet on the floor.
Gentle breathing. Not perfect meditation—just noticing my breath, softening my shoulders, letting the noise settle.
Music. Ambient, French, sometimes wordless. A sound that makes the room feel softer, like I’m not in a rush.
Books. Not to consume, but to be in conversation with other artists, photographers, and designers. To be reminded that I’m part of something larger.
Beauty. A shadow on a wall. A flower in a glass. A quiet light. When I notice beauty, I feel like I belong again.
Letting go of the pressure to be perfect. My best work never came from tightness—it came from presence, trust, and love.
A Note on Gratitude
What grounds me more than anything is gratitude. It is my anchor when I feel unsteady.
Sometimes we move so fast. We want success. We want recognition. We chase the next thing. But in all that running, we forget to pause and see what we’ve already created—what we’ve already survived, built, shared, become.
Gratitude is not just a mood.
It’s a decision to be present.
To say: I’m thankful for the air I breathe. The light in this room. The work I get to do. The people I get to meet.
When I remember to be grateful, everything softens.
The noise quiets. and The heart returns.
“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”
—Mary Oliver
xoxo,
If this resonates, I’d love to connect.
You can explore more of my photography work here, or get in touch here.
