Some artists begin with a concept and then create work to express it. Others, like myself, create intuitively and later uncover the meaning behind what we’ve made. I have always walked a fine line between these two approaches—between instinct and intention, surrender and control.
As a young BFA student studying art, graphic design, and photography, it took me years to understand the difference between art and design. And even longer to give myself permission to be an artist again after immersing myself in the structured, goal-oriented world of design.
But even before I knew how to put it into words, I was always drawn to light. I sought it out, not just visually, but in a way I felt—in my body, my heart, my gut. I have a kind of spidey sense that goes off when something calls to be photographed, and if I ignore it, the energy nags at me until I capture it. Taking the photo becomes an act of relief, both mentally and physically. Over time, I came to understand that this wasn’t just a creative habit; it was a spiritual practice.
Photography as a Way of Seeing
Photography becomes a spiritual practice when it shifts from simply capturing an image to experiencing the world differently—when it stops being about taking and becomes about receiving.
For me, it’s a dance with light and energy. I move with the camera rather than controlling it, stepping into a kind of meditative flow. Each place, each moment, has its own rhythm, its own frequency. The early morning glow through my kitchen window. The neon hum of a city. The shifting tides of an ocean at night. Each space sings its own song, and in those moments, I listen, I move, I translate.
The result is not just a photograph, but an imprint of that energy—a visual echo of something unseen but deeply felt. This is why I consider my process a spiritual practice. It requires presence, surrender, and connection. It’s not about capturing a perfect image; it’s about connecting with the energy of the moment and creating a token I can later reflect on for deeper meaning.
Finding Beauty in the Chaos
From a young age, I was determined to find beauty in everything. As someone prone to deep emotions—partly due to being bipolar and carrying an overwhelming amount of trauma—I needed ways to lift myself up when the weight of the world became unbearable.
That ability to see beyond the surface saved me. It gave me something to hold onto in my darkest moments, especially as a teenager when the temptation to give in to pain was strongest.
In 2014, my depression reached a breaking point. I could barely bring myself to leave my house—despite knowing that my environment was contributing to my state of mind. I turned to photography, not as a professional pursuit, but as a lifeline.
I began photographing light, movement, and small moments of beauty in my home. This series became both an expression of my melancholy and a search for something more. Through it, I processed emotions—frustration, longing, sadness—but also found hope. The act of seeking out beauty, of documenting something worth seeing, became an anchor that kept me from slipping further into despair.
Even now, those images remain a reminder of both the sadness and the resilience I carried through that time.
Photography as Alchemy: My #MeToo Series
In 2017, I took this process of healing through photography even further with my #MeToo series—a body of work that allowed me to reclaim my power through reflection, construction, and deconstruction. Using a mix of digital and analog methods I reprocessed old family images and documents, transforming them into something new—something that better expressed what I was feeling.
The process felt deeply alchemical, like a mental and physical exorcism—transmuting pain, history, and memory into something else entirely. It was a ritual of healing, a visual reckoning with my past, and a large step in my journey toward reclaiming my narrative.
How to Use Photography as a Spiritual Practice
Anyone can engage with photography in a spiritual way—it’s about setting an intention and allowing yourself to see. Here’s how:
1. Follow What Calls You
Notice what draws your eye or stirs something inside you. It might be light, color, textures, or something unexplainable. Trust your instincts and take the photo, even if you don’t know why.
2. Photograph with Emotion
Instead of focusing on technical perfection, focus on how something feels. If a scene or object makes you pause, lean into that sensation and capture it.
3. Reflect on Your Images
The most important step is reflection. After you shoot, sit with your images. What do they reveal? What emotions do they bring up? Do unexpected themes emerge? Without reflection, you’re just taking photos—you’re not distilling their meaning.
4. Create Rituals Around Your Photography
Make photography a grounding practice. Take a slow walk with your camera, set an intention before shooting, or use it as a way to process emotions. Let it become something sacred.
Final Thoughts
Photography has always been more than an art form for me—it is a way of translating light, emotion, and energy into something tangible. It has saved me in ways I never could have anticipated, and it continues to be one of my most powerful forms of expression.
If you allow yourself to see the world differently—to look beyond the obvious and into the hidden—photography can become a spiritual practice for you too. It’s not about equipment or skill; it’s about presence, feeling, and opening yourself to what wants to be seen.
So let go of perfection. Let photography be a way to process, to connect, and to receive. Whether abstract or literal, whether it makes sense to others or only to you, the act of creating is what matters.
Because photography, when practiced with intention, is more than just seeing—it is a way of being.
And in a world that often feels overwhelming, practicing mindfulness through photography is a powerful way to reclaim joy, presence, and peace.
We could all use a little more of that—especially right now.
💖 Carol
