Today, it seems that video rules the world.

Want to be noticed? Dance on TikTok.
Want to become a creator? Pull a stupid face for your YouTube thumbnail (I did one of these once and felt dirty lol).
Need to promote your photography? Don’t show it — show a video reel of you making it (did this too, far too distracting).

So in a world where video is king, why am I so reluctant to go down that road? Why don’t I just do what I’m told and make videos? If you want to have a real camera with you but don’t want too much bulk then I put together the best compact cameras that are available here.

Why don’t I just accept that a phone is good enough, like everyone else seems to? Let me give you a bit of context.

I Grew Up in a Different Era

I’m 43. I grew up in the ’80s and ’90s, when video was either done by professionals or it was the kind of home movie that made you cringe. Back then, photography was the visual medium — it was how you remembered things, how stories were told. I still have albums from my childhood with printed photos that take me straight back to that time.

Don’t get me wrong — the video clips my wife takes of our daughters growing up are fantastic. But for me, the photos I take resonate more emotionally. They don’t just show me what happened; they let me feel something.

Photos Leave Room for Emotion

A video gives you the exact sequence of events. A photo? It gives you space to lean into your own memory. It’s a fragment — one that lets you fill in the blanks with how things felt. It’s selective, and in that selectiveness, it becomes more powerful.

That’s why I look back at photos far more than videos and why I just shot photos of my daughters 9th birthday party and didnt even think to video it.

Think about it — when was the last time you looked at video clips from ten years ago? Same with files on a hard drive. They rarely surface again. But printed photos? They’re there. Always. My daughter Sofia loves flipping through albums from when I was a kid. Those prints have a kind of magic to them. They’re tangible. Real. And because of that, they feel more precious.

Why I Still Prioritise Photography

There are emotional reasons, of course, but also practical ones.

I’ve flirted with YouTube. But truthfully, I’m a little introverted. I don’t feel I can communicate my thoughts and knowledge as effectively on video as I can in writing.

I’m also slightly rebellious. If society tells me I have to produce video to succeed, then the same part of me that once questioned my town’s Mayor in elementary school — asking why he claimed to care about poverty while wearing gold chains — kicks in. Why should I play that game?

Why do I have to do thumbnails and hooks and all these little tricks to grab attention? Why does success in video seem to reward whoever shouts the loudest or looks the best doing it?

That doesn’t fit my personality at all. Most importantly, I’m a photographer, not a videographer. I want to spend my time taking photos, not making videos.

Content Should Win on Merit

Call me old school, but I still think content — whether informative or entertaining — should rise on merit.

With YouTube, it doesn’t feel that way.

Gurus say you should spend as much time on your thumbnail and title as on the video itself. I believe them. But I also find that slightly ridiculous. It’s performative. Strategic. Engineered.

I value clarity and content. Writing a blog lets me focus on what I want to say, not how I’m performing while saying it.

A Slice of Life, Not the Whole Thing

Photography, to me, is a way to slow down and actually observe. It’s not about telling the whole story. It’s about capturing a slice of it — a sense of what something felt like.

Video often leaves nothing to the imagination. It spells everything out.

But good art asks questions.
Why did they make this? What were they feeling?
What’s the story behind this moment?

I’m not saying I’m an artist. But I do like to leave things a little open-ended — to leave room for reflection, not just information.

Photos Don’t Steal the Moment

Then there’s the pace of it all.

To make a meaningful photo, I can go out for an afternoon, immerse myself in the place, work a scene, take the shot — and then go back to actually living the experience.

Video doesn’t allow that. To produce something with the same resonance, I’d need to record constantly. I’d be distracted, trying to capture everything — and in doing so, I’d miss the very thing I’m trying to document.

I still don’t understand people at concerts filming everything on their phones instead of just taking it in. I get it — they want to record the moment. But it feels like these days, if you didn’t film it, it didn’t happen.

We’re Not Supposed to Think Too Much

This whole shift — from photo to video, from content to performance — feels like more than just a trend. It feels like a reflection of something broader.

A culture that increasingly doesn’t want us to think.
To imagine.
To ask questions.

Over the last 20 years I’ve noticed it — TV programming has been dumbed down. Instead of a well-made nature documentary, we get “10 Most Deadly Snakes.” Instead of thoughtful drama, we get reality TV. Instead of discussing great artists or thinkers, we get social media stars and gossip content.

It’s a culture that promotes shallowness.

Kids used to want to be astronauts, doctors, writers, artists. Now they want to be YouTubers. Or just “famous.”

My mum used to work in a college in the UK as a schools liaison officer. She’d ask kids what they wanted to be when they grew up. Starting in the mid-2000s, “I want to be famous” became a regular answer. When she followed up — “Famous for what?” — the reply was usually a blank stare, a shrug, and a mumbled, “I don’t know. I just want to be famous.”

I dare say “YouTuber” and “famous” are now even more common — with the same shrug.

Where does that come from?

Why is that being rewarded — not just by platforms, but by governments, schools, and advertisers?

Is it our fault for consuming it?
Or has it been nurtured this way intentionally?

I’ll leave you with one thought:

Intelligent, thoughtful people don’t follow orders as easily…