“I don’t want to hit print until it’s perfect.” 

If I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard this statement, I could buy a mid-level Toyota Camry. I might not be able to get the top-of-the-line model, but I could certainly afford the one with a sunroof and upgraded interior. 

There is only one problem with that statement. I don’t know what perfect means. What is perfect photography, or a perfect photography book? 

I own over three hundred publications, but wouldn’t classify any of them as perfect. I’ve even spoken to the designers behind these publications, and they don’t see them as perfect either. So, if there is no such thing as perfect, why are so many people obsessed with the idea?

There’s the hunt for the perfect camera, bike, fly rod, tires, desk setup—the only thing that’s stopping you from succeeding. Then, just as you think you’ve found the Holy Grail, you find something even better. Suddenly, you are gripped by the fear of missing out, or paralysed by the thought that something better is just around the corner. 

Ultimately, it’s easier not to do anything—and it’s definitely easier not to hit print.

The kind of perfect that makes you feel nothing

Someone sent me a link to the Instagram page of a European photography collective. The collective was landscape and nature-based. Up popped a perfect wall of color. Sunsets through clouds, dripping rainforest branches, and incredible oceanic activity. There were paddlers and hikers and riders, all in picture-perfect conditions. 

I love nature. I love the outdoors. I love physical activities. This site should have been perfect for me. And yet, I felt nothing at all. And when I say nothing, I mean the page left me feeling hollow. 

It was perhaps the best example of content I’d ever seen. The kind of thing we see all day, every day. Safe, sanitised, and expected. The style of photography that will soon be consumed by artificial intelligence. 

But what if I told you there was another option? 

Instead of chasing perfection and ending up with ordinary, you can search for mood and feel in your work.

Feeling over formula

Creating with mood and feel might mean you end up with perceived imperfections, like a book with a cover that doesn’t look like it is expected to.  A book of portraiture with a still life on the cover, or maybe a landscape book with a cover portrait. Or maybe a book filled with images that break the rules we photographers love so much. 

Mood and feel are unique to the artist, meaning your mood and feel might not look like anyone else’s. And it’s never going to be perfect. 

Now, I want you to reflect. Consider the past images you’ve encountered in your lifetime, those peculiar moments captured by anyone, not necessarily a professional photographer. 

My mind goes to a 3×5 print I discovered in a box of images my mother made while visiting friends in the Caribbean. The images were what you would expect: random, questionable exposures, odd cropping, and composition. All but one, and that one stopped me in my tracks. 

The image was a portrait of sorts, with the subject off-center to the left, showcasing a nice falloff. The light came from the right, illuminating the subject, who was focused on a book they held. The background featured a classic Caribbean cottage–light blue and adorned with island ephemera. I couldn’t stop looking at it. The picture had such an impact. It felt like the only image I needed to understand what her trip was like. Was this a picture that would have won a photography contest or garnered massive views or likes? No. But it had feeling.

There are two kinds of photographers

The professional photography industry is filled with a wide range of talented individuals, but they generally fall into two groups. Technical perfectionists who can solve any visual problem, but produce work that might not leave a lasting impression, and the others who produce imperfect work you can’t stop thinking about. 

Perfectionists will adhere to things like critical focus, rule of thirds, symmetry, and filling the frame, while imperfectionists will react to what’s there, regardless of the technical aspects. If something is slightly out of focus, so be it. If the crop isn’t perfect, that’s okay. It boils down to feeling. Weird over perfect. Often, moody images happen during in-between moments when our guard is down. They can happen in a fraction of a second and never again. 

Making moody images with feel is about experimentation, reaction, and calculated risk. Photographers who know how to capture mood and feel often use the camera as a sketch pad. They are the opposite of methodical. They move quickly from moment to moment, scene to scene, knowing that those moments of feeling are fleeting and fickle. These photographers aren’t afraid of failure. They embrace it.

Try weird. Try fast. Try now.

If you want to inject new life into your photography, give yourself an assignment with one camera, one lens. And a few other things.

• Forget the rules and react to what’s there. 
• Work quickly without thinking about perfect composition or focus. 
• Try what you would shy away from. (If you love long lenses, swap to a wide angle. If you pose your subjects, try shooting without scripting.) 
• Forget about the book you think you are supposed to make, and make the book your feelings tell you to make. 

Start now. Today. Don’t put this off until you have the perfect scenario to experiment. This is too important. If you have an upcoming travel adventure or will be spending time with family, then now is the time to allow yourself to forget what you know and focus on mood and feel. You might not make as many photographs, but you might make better photographs.

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Dan Milnor is a professional photographer and Blurb’s creative ambassador. He writes monthly on the art of bookmaking, photography, and the messy magic of the creative process. Blurb is your platform for turning ideas into beautifully printed, self-published books—made to share, sell, or simply keep. Start your project today.