Letting Go of the Destination: Process, Film, and Becoming an Artist Again

I’ve always struggled with the phrase, “It’s not about the destination, it’s about the journey.”

It sounds nice. It looks great on a mug or a Pinterest graphic. But if I’m being honest, it’s always felt a little hollow to me. I care about the destination. I care about results. I care about achievement. I care about whether the work “worked.”

I think that’s why I’ve struggled with things like consistency in fitness. After one workout, I’m already standing in front of the mirror, waiting for the results to show up immediately. As if effort alone should magically transform me overnight.

That tension between effort and outcome has followed me into nearly every area of my life.

Except one.

Film Photography and the Gift of Process

Film photography is the one thing I’ve found where I can truly lose myself in the process.

When I shoot film, it’s not about the perfect image. It’s not even about knowing what the end result will be. Half of the time, even when I think I know, the final image is still a surprise. And that’s the exciting part.

Expired film. Ignoring the light meter. Shooting beyond the “rules.” Testing the less obvious angles. Letting shadows fall where they may. Trusting intuition instead of precision.

There’s a kind of freedom in not knowing. A relief in releasing control. A quiet joy in realizing that whatever appears after development will simply… be what it is.

And somehow, that feels like magic.

Not because it’s flawless, but because it’s mine. Made by my hands, my eye. Influenced by my choices. Shaped by chance. And revealed later, when I’m ready to receive it.

The Problem with Perfectionism and Being Seen

I don’t think my struggle with “the process” has ever really been about discipline.

It’s been about anxiety, not just about doing things wrong, but about being seen.

About whether people will like the work. Whether they’ll think I’m talented. Whether the images will matter to anyone but me. Whether I’m actually good enough or just hoping I am.

That fear has a way of tightening everything. It makes you second-guess your instincts. It makes you chase approval instead of truth. It turns creativity into a performance instead of a practice.

And perfectionism becomes a kind of armor against being exposed if I don't get everything exactly right... perfect.

But film photography doesn’t let me hide behind that armor.

There’s no instant feedback loop. No endless revisions. No immediate validation. You release the shutter, wait, process the film, and accept what's revealed when the light finally hits the negative.

In that waiting, I’m forced to sit with the uncomfortable truth: the value of the work can’t depend on whether it’s praised. It has to come from the act of making it.

And slowly, that fear loosens its grip.

A Shift for Hicks Film Studio

This realization is shaping a new season for Hicks Film Studio.

While wedding photography has been an important chapter of this journey, it’s no longer the center of it. The pressure to perform, deliver, and meet expectations began to pull me away from the very thing that made photography so special to me in the first place.

Instead, I’m entering a slower, more intentional chapter for 2026 -- one focused on craft and artistry, exploration and experimentation, and a deeper, almost spiritual inquiry.

Looking Toward What’s Next

As I look ahead to 2026, I feel a certain pull to challenge myself in a different way.

To create without needing to define the outcome in advance. To stay with the process long enough for something unexpected to emerge. To let the work reveal itself in its own time.

There’s something forming here... Something I’m intentionally holding loosely. Something that asks for patience, curiosity, and trust. Something that I know will be surprising when it all eventually comes together.

Choosing to Be Surprised

As I move into this new year, I’m choosing to let go of the need to get everything right.

To stop waiting for the mirror to confirm my effort. To stop demanding immediate proof that the work matters. To stop chasing the destination so aggressively that I miss the beauty unfolding right in front of me.

Instead, I’m choosing curiosity. I’m choosing play. I’m choosing process.

And most of all... I’m choosing to let myself be SURPRISED!