When the camera stays in the bag.

And why all the likes in the world can't replace creative freedom

This summer has been a strange one for me. A good one, don’t get me wrong, but strange all the same. The kind of summer we don’t often get in the UK—warm days, blue skies, and light that seemed to last forever. By all accounts, it was the sort of season where I should have been out constantly with my camera, chasing the golden hours and watching the landscapes shift with the weather. But the truth is, I haven’t.

My camera has spent more time in its bag than in my hands, and I’ve felt oddly at peace with that. Usually, when I step back from photography, I feel guilty, as though I’m wasting time or losing momentum. But this time has been different. I simply haven’t felt it. The spark wasn’t there, and forcing it felt wrong.

Finding Joy Elsewhere

That doesn’t mean the summer has been wasted. Quite the opposite. I’ve enjoyed it in ways that don’t necessarily translate into images—long walks without the weight of gear on my back, quiet evenings where the sun dipped below the horizon and I just sat and watched without reaching for a lens. Sometimes you need to experience life with your own eyes, not always through glass.

Of course, there’s always that whisper of doubt in the background—shouldn’t I be documenting this? Will I regret not capturing these moments? But the truth is, I don’t. Not every memory has to be framed. Some are meant to be lived.

The Changing Face of Instagram

While I’ve been quieter with my camera, I’ve still been busy running WPUK, the Instagram feature page I started over a year ago. When I launched it, it felt exciting. I was discovering female photographers I’d never come across before—talented, creative, inspiring people who deserved to be seen. It gave me energy.

But over the months, something shifted. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s Instagram itself (probably both). Feature pages don’t feel the same anymore. When I started, they felt like little communities, ways to lift each other up, places where you could stumble across someone’s work and feel blown away. Now, with the way Instagram has changed, they feel tired. Like they’ve run their course.

The platform has become a frustrating place. The algorithms push content in ways that don’t make sense, reels are shoved in front of us whether we want them or not, and genuine connection feels harder and harder to find. I log on and it feels less like a space for creativity and more like a machine demanding constant output. It’s exhausting.

What WPUK Has Taught Me

Running WPUK has been both rewarding and draining. Rewarding, because I’ve met photographers I never would have found otherwise—women whose work makes me stop scrolling and just take it in. Draining, because the effort it takes to keep people engaged feels never-ending. You can pour hours into curating and featuring, but the return often feels like a drop in the ocean.

It’s taught me a lot about the way social media works—and about myself. I’ve realised I don’t want to spend all my energy chasing algorithms or running features just for the sake of keeping up appearances. I want to pour my time into things that feel more meaningful. Into spaces where people actually connect, not just double-tap and move on.

Do Features Even Matter Anymore?

This is the question I keep circling back to: what’s the point of a feature page now?

When WPUK began, features felt like a spotlight—like they gave photographers a real chance to be seen, to connect, and to grow. But now? With Instagram’s algorithm burying posts, I find myself wondering whether anyone even sees them.

Do features give photographers anything tangible? Do they bring lasting visibility, or are they just another fleeting post swallowed by the feed? For the amount of time and energy they take, what’s actually achieved?

I don’t say this to dismiss the photographers I’ve featured—far from it. Their work deserves every ounce of recognition. But I’m questioning whether Instagram is still the right place for that recognition to happen. The platform doesn’t reward effort or artistry in the way it once did. And if no one’s really seeing the features, then who are they serving?

These questions sit heavily with me, because I started WPUK out of passion, not obligation. But now, I’m not sure if features are helping anyone—or if they’ve become just another cog in a machine that’s already grinding us down.

Stepping Back to Move Forward

So where does that leave me? In a bit of a limbo, I suppose. I’m not ready to walk away from photography, and I doubt I ever truly could. It’s part of me. But I am giving myself permission to step back. To not force myself into shooting just because the weather is good or because Instagram might “reward” me for posting more.

Sometimes, creativity needs space to breathe. Maybe this summer was about that—about pausing, resetting, and letting go of the pressure to always be producing.

Looking Ahead

I don’t know what’s next for me, for WPUK, or for the way I share my photography online. But I do know this: I’m craving spaces that feel real. Platforms where connection matters more than reach, where art isn’t reduced to a statistic. That’s why writing on Substack and sharing on the fotoapp feels like the right step. It gives me room to share my thoughts, my process, and my journey in a way Instagram simply doesn’t allow anymore.

Photography will always be my way of seeing the world. But maybe the real growth comes not from constantly creating, but from knowing when to pause. This summer reminded me that silence can be just as powerful as action. That not every season is about producing work—some are about living, reflecting, and figuring out what matters most.

So now when I head out with the camera —it will be with a clearer head, a lighter heart, and hopefully, a renewed sense of why I fell in love with photography in the first place.

Joy.