Hit the Books with Dan Milnor: Lessons from Antarctica—Simplifying for Success

A year ago, I was headed to Antarctica. 

The trip became a reality when a photographer friend arranged for me to gain passage on a ship headed south. Before this moment, I hadn’t spent much time thinking about Antarctica because it always felt unattainable. A mysterious world well beyond the realm of possibility. And then suddenly, I was told, “It’s a go.” 

I still had to get from New Mexico to Buenos Aires, Argentina, where I would board a charter flight to Ushuaia. In Ushuaia, resting in the harbor, I would find my temporary home, a purpose-built, fully stabilized, ice-class vessel with an ice-reinforced hull.

In the days before departure, I planned how to tackle the assignment. The opportunity came from a personal connection, so in essence, I was on my own time, but Blurb wanted a video and social series based around the trip, so I needed to satisfy both my own needs and those of Blurb. This was my first time to the White Continent, but not my first time embarking on a trip with multiple goals for multiple entities.

At heart, I’m a still photographer who enjoys writing. That’s it. That’s all I need. Make the best possible still images and never stop taking notes. I’m always seeking opportunities to make compelling landscape photography. But Blurb, like most modern companies, lives in a multi-channel marketing world. Instagram, Facebook, email, blog, and YouTube are all content pipelines that require time and attention. This meant I needed to modify my approach.

I made a list of what I needed to make. The list included 1:1 still photographs for social media; 16:9 motion content for YouTube; 9:16 motion content for social media; action camera footage including underwater imagery, if possible; short lens color photographs and 4K video; long lens color photographs and 4k video; short lens black and white photographs and 4K video; and I would also need to use my mobile phone to produce and send imagery in real-time. To tackle this list would require my Nikon Zf with 40mm lens, Fuji XH2s, and XH2 camera bodies, Fuji 200mm, 50-140mm, 33mm, 23mm lenses, an Insta 360Go action camera, and my iPhone.

I should have known better. I did know better, but when excitement overrides logic, well, we can all come a bit undone. Before the ship left the harbor, I knew I had made a serious error in creative judgment. There was no way I could produce all these different forms of content. So, what did I do? I kept going as planned. Each day was a fire drill of diving into pocket after pocket, pulling out the action camera, then the phone, then the short lens camera, then the long lens camera, and then doing it all over in reverse order. 

Lately, humans have convinced themselves that multitasking is a real and effective way of being in the world. But the human brain wasn’t designed to do two things simultaneously. The human brain was designed to “monotask,” so when we think we are multitasking, we are just switching rapidly from task to task. My Antarctica camera and content juggling was the perfect example of how multitasking doesn’t work.

Trying to multitask while taking photos often means missing out on genuine connection. Your lens and eye may focus on the subject, but your thoughts are elsewhere. You’re preoccupied with upcoming tasks: sending images, adjusting formats, and checking likes and comments. Your hands move from pocket to pocket, searching for the right camera to use next. The dreaded phrase “Good enough” creeps into your mindset. The feeling that lingers is one of never getting ahead, never doing enough.

What should I have done? I should have found a simple, sustainable way of covering the story by pruning from 11 forms of content to two. This could have involved shooting color still photographs and 4k video and writing or shooting black and white still photographs and 9:16 video for social media, thus covering both a more classical style with the black and white still photographs, and a more modern, socially driven style with the 9:16, vertical video. Rather than prune away, I tried to do everything. But doing everything did not work.

Returning home, I felt like I didn’t have enough of any one thing. I felt like my coverage equated to skipping a rock across a pond. Superficial. This is entirely my fault. This was not my first assignment. I should have known it was an impossibility to cover so many bases. I should have known that less is more. I should have known I needed to prune back to be present, effective, and sustainable in the field.

Still, let’s not lose track of the fact that I had the privilege of going to Antarctica, one of the most incredible experiences of my lifetime. Being asked to do many different things is also a privilege. It meant that others were excited about the trip and willing to spend their time and energy turning the coverage into something more. It meant that whatever I created had a chance to become part of something bigger than me, or us.

Would I love to return to Antarctica? Yes. I’d love to return and dedicate more time to capturing the stark beauty of its cold arctic landscapes. Would I do things differently? Yes. I would take two cameras, two lenses, and my fancy new action camera that shoots 4k120 and comes with a wireless mic. But that’s it. I promise.

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Dan Milnor is a professional photographer, author, and Blurb’s creative ambassador. His photography and advice for sustaining a creative practice help makers of every kind realize their potential. Ready to turn a project into a book? Start today!