I put down the guitar and thought: “This feels exactly like when I started with photography!”. What had happened?
The Challenge of Mastery
Well, a year or so ago, I got myself a new guitar (for the nerds: a Fender Ultra Luxe Stratocaster, I love it!). As some of you know I have been into music ever since teenhood. This means that I have been a singer in bands ever since. With my ability to play an instrument at about zero. Yes, I had my occasional tries to play the guitar. But other than a few open chords, there was nothing, really. I had the chutzpa to play the guitar at an unplugged gig with my band once, and I had some guitar tracks recorded on our band´s albums, but I never would have called myself a guitarist. But I had always been interested in learning that instrument. So, I eventually invested in a new guitar, got myself a nice amp (a Fender Deluxe Reverb - the blonde tone master version), and some nice effect pedals. And I started playing and learning. Learning and playing. With that came the realization of how slow the progress of improvement actually is. Mastering an instrument does not come with shortcuts and automatizations, and it also does not come with the instant gratifications that using a camera sometimes allows. In other words, it takes longer to get satisfying results than in photography.
Passion vs. Perfection
However, what is the same is the dedication and passion that it needs to improve and garner results. And I love that! This is one of the aspects that I find so hugely inspiring and satisfying in both my jobs (as an HR coach and trainer for job starters in the service industry and as a landscape photographer doing workshops and mentoring): seeing and feeling the dedication and passion of people learning and improving in the things which they love doing. Have you seen the series ‘The bear’? While I have never been intrigued by becoming a chef myself (ask my wife and kids about my subpar cooking skills), I loved watching the series. And before I digress even more, I particularly enjoyed the episodes where the characters tried to perfect what they were doing, notching their craft further and pushing themselves to the best they could do. I find this energy and the ambition to continuously improve and better your skills (and therefore get better results, despite the inevitable letdowns that happen along the way) highly motivating.
Everybody has their own motivations. And trying to achieve perfection (does that even exist? I am skeptical.) might not be a recommended goal. But the dedication and the love for what you are doing are of such value in itself! It is what I sometimes reflect on with my workshop participants when I feel that frustration is starting to kick in when 'the’ image is not found. When you have an incredible landscape in front of you and are willing to photograph and come away with a great resulting image, but feel like it is not happening. “Trust in the progress!” I say to encourage finding more value in the act of doing and trying rather than only focusing on the results. Many of my students are managers and business people primed on and judged by the results they achieve in their jobs. Succeeding in this is what made them what they are. There is nothing wrong with being results-driven. But it is not all! I find great joy in encouraging others to be curious, think outside the box, and try things to do without needing an instant result. Or, better put, to see the resulting image on the screen of a camera as a step on a ladder. Do you like what you see? Great, take another step. If you don´t, don’t worry, take a step back and try again. Trust in the progress and be aware of what you are doing: you are acting with passion and dedication. That is a true and satisfying value in itself in a world full of hacks, cheats, shortcuts, and shallow content! I firmly believe that we humans have a very fine antenna for authenticity, and we value it when people do something with their heart and full dedication. It might not be for the masses, but that does not matter. It is for you, first and foremost!
Coming back to me putting down my guitar and being frustrated that my hands and fingers do not move as precisely as I wish, that I fail to hit that new chord, and that I keep forgetting where the notes sit. IT IS FRUSTRATING, YES. And I cannot console myself with “trust the process!” then. But I keep coming back and picking the instrument back up, noodling some tones that I am familiar with, and then trying that damn chord again. Willing to fail over and over until: I hit it. And this is trusting the process.
Nobody tells me to do this, and nobody wants me to do this (as a matter of fact, my band members would probably prefer if I invested the time and energy in better vocal lines and lyrics instead, but I digress again), but I like doing it because it feels good. And so I do it. And I know this is why you go outside early in the morning when even the birds are still asleep. This is why you are waiting in the rain and storm for the clearing of the sky to get the image you desire. Don’t we love it?!
The Gear Temptation
It is also why we invest our precious time and money. Here is another parallel and why I relate: GAS (gear acquisition syndrome) is real, unfortunately, especially if I don’t know better. Let me explain.
Ever since I felt comfortable using my camera, when I felt like I had mastered the gear, and it was not mastering me. Ever since my sole focus was on the creative aspect of the craft and my vision and desire to express myself through my photography, I started caring less and less about gear. Sure, I use quality gear for my photography, and it is helping. And it is costly, too. But I am not constantly looking for upgrades, nor am I currently checking any gear reviews. Is there a new camera model out with slightly better features? Nice. …but oh well, I don´t care. I choose inspiration and learning any time over new gear.
Why can I not follow the same mindset in my new hobby guitar playing? It is crazy! I find myself in the rabbit hole of YouTube, watching countless gear reviews. This guitar sounds even better than this. That overdrive pedal is incredible and could improve my sound and joy of playing. …what elso could I get? Gosh! I feel a bit ashamed that my level of investment into gear does not nearly match the quality of my playing. Bruce Springsteen only played his cheap Telecaster, which he had bought used in the early 70s for decades. So why am I tricked into “I want another one!”? Yes, I cherish every bit of gear I have assembled, and holding any of my guitars in my hands is a haptic sensation I do not want to miss. …which is already halfway cheating myself into another investment with this statement. Yet, in my ‘reasonable’ moments, I know another guitar or other gear does not make me a better player. (...oh boy, did I write this? Don´t let my wife read it! She will always hold this against me.)
Trusting the Process
So, why am I even considering or caring? Well, because I love it. Because the passion for it makes me care. When I started out with photography, all I thought about was new locations, compositions, new skills in editing, studying the work of others, watching gear reviews, and assembling new tutorials and books. Do I regret it? No, I don’t. Not at all. But I could have saved some money or invested more wisely into learning and improving my skills. However, in the end, this is progress and an experience, too. And it is also knowing that the industry - whether it is music or photography or anything else - is doing a fantastic job of making us believe we need this and that to improve and have a better experience.
This is why I can so deeply relate to anyone following a passion — eagerly exploring new gear, discovering new locations, and learning new techniques. It’s part of the hobby, and it’s part of the creative journey we’re all on. And this includes the progress that needs to be trusted, right? Over time, that progress will lead you to trust yourself and what you are expressing. Eventually, anything outside of expression itself —whether gear or external validation — fades in importance.
I believe reaching this point, where expression matters more than gear or approval, is a great goal. I hope to get there with my music, too. So, here’s to all of us who wake before dawn, stay up late, and chase a vision, a melody, an image. Here’s to the joy of the craft and the connections it brings. I’m excited to share this journey with anyone whose path crosses mine, and I can’t wait to hear about your creative adventures.
Ultimately, it’s not just about achieving mastery; it’s about cherishing the process that brings you there. Whether behind a camera or holding an instrument, the real magic lies in the passion that drives you, the dedication that sustains you, and the joy of growth — even through its frustrations. (I’ll remind myself of this next time the guitar refuses to do what I want it to!). Trust your progress!
Mastering a creative skill—whether photography or music—isn’t about achieving perfection; it’s about embracing the process, passion, and progress. Kai reflects on the parallels between learning guitar and photography, encouraging readers to trust their creative growth, value the process, and focus on authentic expression over gear or external validation.