Every photographer starts by not knowing they’re a photographer.This isn’t a gear upgrade story. It’s a story about seeing. About how the device in your pocket can teach you to notice the world, and how that noticing eventually demands a more deliberate tool.
Phase 1: The iPhone Era (2018–2023)
For years, my iPhone was my only camera. Like most people, I used it for:
- Family moments — birthdays, first days of school, Sunday park visits
- Travel snapshots — “we were here” documentation
- Food photos nobody asked for
- Screenshots of things I wanted to remember
The Shift
Something changed in 2022. I was walking along Bondi to Coogee — a coastal walk I’d done dozens of times — and the afternoon light was doing something extraordinary to the cliffs. The sandstone was glowing amber. The ocean was three different shades of blue. I took a photo with my iPhone, looked at it, and felt frustrated. The photo was fine. It was technically competent. But it didn’t feel like what I saw. The dynamic range was crushed. The detail in the shadows was gone. The sense of scale was absent. That frustration was the beginning.“Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst.” — Henri Cartier-Bresson
What the iPhone Taught Me
Looking back, the iPhone years were essential. Without knowing it, I was learning:- Composition instincts. I was unconsciously applying the rule of thirds, looking for leading lines, and finding frames within frames — all on a 6.1-inch screen.
- Light awareness. I started noticing golden hour, blue hour, and the harshness of midday sun. Not because I read about it, but because my iPhone photos looked noticeably better at certain times.
- Moment recognition. The speed of a phone camera taught me to react. See it, pull it out, shoot. That instinct carries over to any camera.
- Editing basics. Lightroom Mobile became a daily habit. I learned about exposure, contrast, white balance, and color grading — all on my phone.
The Gift That Changed Everything
My wife Gouthami had been watching me for months — how I’d stop mid-walk to frame a shot on my iPhone, how I’d spend evenings editing photos instead of watching TV, how I’d talk about light and composition at dinner like other people talk about cricket scores. She saw the obsession before I fully admitted it to myself.
For my birthday, she proposed we buy a proper camera. Not a point-and-shoot, not a bridge camera — a real mirrorless system. “You’re already a photographer,” she said. “You just don’t have the right tool yet.”
That gift didn’t just upgrade my gear. It gave me permission to take this seriously. There’s a difference between a hobby you dabble in and a passion someone you love believes in enough to invest in. Gouthami’s belief changed my relationship with photography overnight.
Phase 2: The Research Spiral (Mid 2023)
Once I decided I wanted a “real” camera, the engineer in me took over. I spent three months:
- Watching every camera comparison on YouTube (Peter McKinnon, Tony Northrup, Jared Polin)
- Reading DPReview archives (RIP) and photography forums
- Making spreadsheets comparing specs, prices, and lens ecosystems
- Going to camera stores to hold bodies and feel the ergonomics
The Decisions
Full-frame vs APS-C? I chose APS-C. Full-frame is better in low light and has shallower depth of field, but APS-C is lighter, cheaper, and the crop factor gives me free reach for wildlife. As a beginner, I’d rather invest in lenses than a body. Sony vs Fuji vs Canon? Sony’s autofocus sealed it. The A6400’s real-time eye tracking is genuinely magical. Fuji’s film simulations were tempting, but I knew I’d edit everything in Lightroom anyway. Canon’s RF mount ecosystem was still young for APS-C. Zoom vs Prime? I started with the Sigma 18-50mm f/2.8 as my everyday lens, then added the Tamron 50-400mm for wildlife and the Sigma 56mm f/1.4 for portraits. The progression felt natural — each lens taught me something different.Phase 3: The First 1,000 Photos (Late 2023)
The camera arrived. I remember holding it, turning it on, and feeling both excited and completely overwhelmed. Aperture, shutter speed, ISO, focus modes, drive modes, metering modes — there were more settings than I expected.
The Learning Curve
Week 1-2: Full Auto. I shot in auto mode and didn’t feel bad about it. The camera’s auto mode is smarter than most beginners. It let me focus on composition while the camera handled exposure. Week 3-4: Aperture Priority. This was the breakthrough. Learning that a lower f-number blurs the background more was like discovering a superpower. I shot everything at f/1.8 for two weeks straight. Every photo had blurry backgrounds whether it needed them or not. Month 2-3: Manual mode experiments. I started understanding the exposure triangle — not from a textbook, but from taking the same shot at different settings and comparing. The feedback loop of digital photography is incredibly fast. Month 4-6: Finding a rhythm. I stopped thinking about settings and started thinking about images. This is the transition from “operating a camera” to “making photographs.” The gear becomes invisible.Mistakes I Made
- Shooting in JPEG. I didn’t understand RAW at first and lost months of editing flexibility.
- Ignoring the histogram. I relied on the LCD screen, which lies in bright sunlight.
- Over-editing. My early Lightroom edits look like Instagram filters from 2014. Saturation at 100. Clarity at maximum. I’ve since learned that subtlety is everything.
- Not backing up. I almost lost an entire trip’s photos before setting up proper cloud backups.
- Buying gear to fix skill gaps. A new lens won’t fix bad composition. I had to learn that the hard way.
Phase 4: Where I Am Now (2024–Present)
I shoot almost every day. Not always with intent — sometimes it’s just the walk to the train station. But the camera is always with me, and my eye is always looking.How It Grew
It started small. Friends saw my photos on Instagram and asked if I could shoot their weekend get-together. Then a couple wanted casual portraits at the park. Then someone asked about a birthday event. I wasn’t charging anyone — I was just saying yes to every chance to practice with real people in real light. Each shoot taught me something different:- Friends’ events taught me to work fast and read a room — you can’t ask people to hold a candid moment.
- Portraits taught me to direct without being awkward — “turn your chin slightly” sounds simple until you’re the one saying it.
- Nature and wildlife taught me patience I didn’t know I had — waiting thirty minutes for a bird to land in the right light.
- City and street taught me to see the extraordinary in the ordinary — Sydney’s laneways, harbour reflections, train platform geometry.
The Shoot That Meant Everything
Then came the one that mattered most. Gouthami was pregnant with our second child, and I wanted to do the maternity photoshoot myself. Not a studio. Not a professional. Me — the person who knows her laugh, her stillness, the way she holds Aadhya’s hand.
I shot Gouthami and Aadhya together during golden hour at a spot we love. No studio lights, no backdrops — just late afternoon sun, the two of them, and a camera held by someone who loves them. Those photos are the best I’ve ever taken. Not technically — I can see the focus misses and the slightly blown highlights. But emotionally, nothing else comes close.
And then Arjun arrived. The early weeks were a blur of sleeplessness and joy, but I made sure to capture the quiet moments — Aadhya meeting her brother for the first time, the two of them side by side, those tiny fingers wrapped around a bigger sister’s hand. The smiles. The unguarded, pure, completely unposed smiles of two kids who don’t know they’re being photographed.
Those photos aren’t on Instagram. They’re not for an audience. They’re for us — for Aadhya and Arjun to look at in twenty years and know exactly how much they were loved.
That’s when I understood what photography is really for. It’s not about gear or settings or composition rules. It’s about holding onto the things that matter before they change.
What’s Changed
“To me, photography is an art of observation. It’s about finding something interesting in an ordinary place.” — Elliott ErwittI see differently. Before photography, I’d walk past a shadow pattern on a wall. Now I stop. I notice how light wraps around objects, how reflections create doubles, how color temperature shifts through the day. I’m more patient. Engineering rewards speed. Photography rewards waiting. Waiting for the light, waiting for the moment, waiting for the bird to turn its head. I appreciate imperfection. In code, a bug is a failure. In photography, a happy accident — a flare, a blur, an unexpected reflection — can be the best part of the image. It connects me to place. Sydney isn’t just where I live anymore. It’s a landscape I’m in constant conversation with. Every suburb has different light. Every season has a different mood. It connects me to family. The camera is now part of our family rituals. Weekend walks, school events, holidays — I’m not just present, I’m preserving.
The Numbers (Because I’m Still an Engineer)
| Metric | Value |
|---|---|
| Photos taken (total) | ~2,500 |
| Photos I’m proud of | ~15 |
| Photos that surprised me | ~50 |
| Lenses owned | 6 |
| Times I’ve forgotten to charge the battery | Too many |
What’s Next
- Build a garage studio. The next big step — converting part of the garage into an indoor shooting space with backdrops, Godox strobes, and softboxes. Babies, kids, portraits, product photography — all in a controlled environment.
- Shoot babies and newborns. Capturing those first weeks of life in soft, careful light. It’s a genre that demands patience and tenderness — two things photography has taught me.
- Product photography. Clean, commercial-quality shots for small businesses and my own products. The engineering brain loves the precision this requires.
- Wildlife and macro. More dedicated time with the Tamron 50-400mm in the national parks, and exploring the macro world — insects, flowers, water droplets, the details that exist at a scale most people ignore.
- Go full-frame. When the studio is running and I’ve genuinely outgrown the A6400, the Sony A7C II or A7 IV is the natural next step. But that’s a future chapter.
- Document the Telugu community in Sydney. A personal project combining my cultural identity with visual storytelling.
The camera didn’t make me a photographer. It made me a better noticer. And noticing — really noticing — is a skill that improves everything: engineering, writing, parenting, and living.