Photography as a Hobby — and Why It Matters More Than We Think

As I’ve been writing this recent series — where we’ve explored cooking, writing, grandmothering, and now photography as a hobby — I’ve realized something interesting. At first glance, hobbies may seem like simple ways to pass the time. Pleasant little distractions. Something we squeeze in between errands, responsibilities, and all the other moving pieces of life. But I think they become something entirely different as we get older.

Hobbies quietly become part of how we stay connected to ourselves, our memories, our creativity, and often, to the people we love most. And lately, photography has reminded me of that in the most unexpected way. Not because I suddenly became some great photographer — trust me, no one is calling National Geographic just yet — but because I started seeing everyday life a little differently.

It Started With a Phone and Very Low Expectations

Like many people, I spent years believing photography required the right camera, the right settings, the right lenses, and a level of technical knowledge that sounded suspiciously like a college physics course.

Meanwhile, I was over here wiping fingerprints off my phone screen and hoping for the best.

For a long time, I kept photography at a comfortable distance. I took pictures during vacations, birthdays, holidays, and the occasional “everyone stand still and smile” moment, but I never really thought of photography as a hobby I could genuinely enjoy. Mostly because I assumed I probably wasn’t doing it correctly. And if we’re being honest, I think many of us quietly talk ourselves out of hobbies for that exact reason. Somewhere along the line, we decide that if we can’t be particularly impressive at something, maybe it isn’t worth pursuing at all.

Thankfully, life has a way of humbling us on that kind of thinking.

The Photos We Treasure Most Usually Aren’t Perfect

Over the past few months, I’ve found myself going through old family photographs more often. Boxes of them. Thousands, actually. At this point, I’m fairly certain I’m sitting on roughly 2,000 original photos that desperately need to be scanned before time, dust, or one overly curious grandchild destroys family history forever. That project alone may require its own support group.

But as I’ve sorted through those old photographs, one thing has become very clear: The pictures we treasure most are rarely technically perfect. Sometimes they are are blurry, often they are crooked, and in my case, more than a few appear to have been taken moments before I lost complete control of the camera.

And yet somehow, they’re priceless. Because they captured something real. A relationship. A feeling. A moment in time that can never quite exist again in the same way.

My All Time Favorite Photo – Mama and Me

One of my favorite childhood photographs is currently missing somewhere in the mysterious black hole that seems to consume family pictures, old recipes, and single earrings. But I can still see it perfectly in my mind. It’s a picture of my grandmother and me walking home together from the bus stop.

Every afternoon, I would wait for her at the corner of Philadelphia Street so I could be there the moment she stepped off the bus from work. Then we’d walk hand-in-hand the rest of the way home, talking about absolutely nothing important — and yet somehow everything important at the same time. At least on my end.

I’m fairly certain most of my conversations involved things like what happened at school that day, who was being mean to whom, and probably an extremely detailed explanation about a toy had most recently appeared in a television commercial — assuming, of course, I could even see the commercial on our tiny black-and-white television.

Still, she listened.

And to this day, that simple photograph instantly takes me back to those walks and the feeling of being completely loved and safe in the world.

And the funny part is that I vividly remember usually looking like I had been dressed by someone who had lost a bet at Sears. But no matter what, my mom thought the moment was worth capturing. And decades later, it still is. Because of photographs like that one, my children and grandchildren will be able to see glimpses not only of my childhood, but of the people who shaped it. Somehow, old family photographs quietly become part of the stories we continue passing down from one generation to the next.

Maybe one day I’ll finally find that photograph of Mama and me. But even if I don’t, the memory itself has never really been lost.

Learning to See Differently

Somewhere along the way, I began reaching for my phone camera more often. Not for major events. Not for milestones. But for small moments: light coming through the kitchen window, a grandchild concentrating on a project, a cup of tea sitting quietly beside a book, the everyday moments that normally pass by unnoticed.

And yet, when I looked back at many of those photos, they never quite reflected what I had actually felt in the moment. That’s when it finally hit me: It wasn’t that I needed a better camera. I needed a better way of seeing. That realization eventually led me to photographer Nick Kelsh. Nick has not only taught me practical phone photography techniques, but more importantly, helped me understand something simple and surprisingly freeing:

Photography isn’t really about equipment. It’s about awareness. Once I understood that, everything changed. I stopped worrying so much about perfection and started paying attention to light, expressions, details, timing, and to the little things that quietly tell the story of our lives. Ironically, that shift improved not only my photography, but also the way I experience everyday life.

Why Photography as a Hobby Matters

What surprised me most is that photography as a hobby has very little to do with becoming a “photographer.” It has far more to do with becoming present. When we slow down enough to notice: the texture of an old recipe card, the expression on someone’s face mid-laughter, or the way afternoon light falls across the kitchen table, we begin participating in life differently — usually with more intention and gratitude.

And perhaps that’s why photography has become so meaningful to me in this season of life. Not because I’m trying to create perfect pictures for social media. But because I want to remember these days. Someday, the ordinary photographs we’re taking right now will become family history. These are the moments our children and grandchildren may one day treasure most. Not because they were perfect. But because they were real.

A Little Hint of What’s Coming Next

To share the valuable photography lessons I’ve learned, I’ve been putting together something I truly wish I’d had years ago — a simple, practical guide to taking better photos using the phone you already have. Nothing overly technical, and no complicated camera jargon that makes you feel like you accidentally enrolled in an engineering class. More than anything I didn’t want to guide to be intimidating, because if you’re like me, the last thing you want is to be more confused than you think you already are. Just the foundational things that actually make a difference.

And with guidance and input from my photographer/new friend Nick, I’ve pulled together the simple techniques that helped me finally feel confident capturing the people and moments I love most. I’m really excited about this one, and I’ll be sharing it next week. Until then, maybe take a little time this week to look through old family photographs. You may be surprised how much life is waiting for you there. And maybe, take a few new ones too. And if you don’t have hundreds — or any — family photos, it’s never too late to start. Even photographing your friends and colleagues, and most importantly, yourself — will yield endearing memories.

Please be sure to check out the other blogs in our Hobby Series:

Until next time, keep . . .