Mónica RiveiroThe hidden danger of likes
Today I’d like to reflect on something that concerns many photographers: how to find your photographic style without losing your own voice along the way.
In other words, listening to ourselves… or stopping ourselves from listening.
Because when we take photos, are we truly looking within… or just worrying about what others want to see?
Let’s be honest. Often, it seems that what’s expected of us is pretty clear: beautiful images, easy to look at, easy to understand. Comfortable photographs. Ones that don’t challenge too much or make people think too deeply.
And then likes come into play
Social media sends us a very simple message: the more likes you get, the more popular you are. At least according to the algorithm, that mysterious creature with a terrible sense of humor.
The problem is that this message, repeated thousands of times, ends up creating a serious dependency. Before we know it, we start producing images not for ourselves, but to please others.
And that’s when the great enemy appears.
The Moment You Start Losing Your Photographic Style
Nothing is more harmful to creativity than constantly trying to please others.
I’m sure it’s happened to you. You’re in front of your computer, looking for a photo to post on social media, and the dilemma appears:
Do I post this image that may not be the most beautiful, but means so much to me?
Or do I post this other photo, the one that’s sure to get more likes… and delight the algorithm?
We’ve all had that moment.
The problem is that if this process repeats over a long time, something curious happens: you start to empty yourself. Little by little, we stop making our own decisions. Our choices begin to depend on what we think others expect from us.
We want to be liked. And that’s only human. We follow trends in the way we dress, style our hair, even in the way we speak… Trends come and go, and often we end up looking too much like each other.
The same happens in photography.
Sometimes it seems like we’re all creating variations of the same thing—seeking approval, waiting for the verdict in the form of little red hearts.
And when those hearts don’t appear… we start questioning what we did wrong.
It’s curious how something so small can turn into a little drug.
Honesty as the Foundation of Your Photographic Style
That’s why it’s important to remember something simple: we need to be ourselves. Embracing our strengths, yes, but also our flaws.
Actually, it’s frequently our imperfections that make us recognizable.
Social media has brought many positive things, of course. But it has also introduced a healthy dose of insecurity. It influences us more than we realize.
And when it comes to photography, it matters a lot.
That’s why there’s a word that feels increasingly important to me: honesty.
Being honest with ourselves.
Sharing our own vision of the world.
Telling our story exactly as we want.
Because if we don’t, we risk falling into a rather absurd loop: we take a photo, edit it quickly, post it on social media… and wait for the flood of praise to feed our ego.
And… then?
Then we need another photo. And another approval. And another.
A never-ending cycle.
Until one day you stop and think: “Wait a minute… what the hell am I doing?"
And if we’re truly honest with ourselves, the answer can be uncomfortable: this is no longer me.
What We Can Learn from Vivian Maier
Sometimes it feels like we enjoy the process of photographing less and the process of receiving praise more. And that’s a dangerous territory.
A photographer who took thousands and thousands of images… and, much to the despair of any modern community manager, showed them to no one—or almost no one.
She photographed because she needed to. Perhaps as a kind of diary. She observed, walked, looked around, and captured mementos. Many of her rolls of film were never even developed.
And still, she continued photographing throughout her life.
Her work was discovered by chance (or maybe not… perhaps everything happens for a reason) after her death. Which raises another interesting question: was it right for the person who decided to show her work?
But that’s another story… perhaps for another post.
What does seem clear is that Vivian Maier lived photography in a profoundly honest way. She photographed without expecting anything in return. Without expecting applause.
And perhaps there’s a small lesson here.
When we work on a personal photography project—a series, a project, or even a single image—we should try to close the door, at least for a moment, to all those external voices whispering to us what we should photograph, how to do it, or what’s currently trendy.
In my case, many projects are born precisely from that inward search, as happens in The railing.
Finding Your Photographic Style Starts with Listening to Yourself
Going out to photograph alone can be a very healthy exercise. In The search, I reflect on that solitude and the search for one’s own identity.
Many photographers ask themselves at some point: “How do I find my photographic style?”
The answer may not lie in learning more techniques, nor in following the latest visual trend.
Often, style emerges when we stop trying to please everyone and start paying attention to what truly interests us to photograph.
What repeatedly attracts you, obsesses you visually, and makes you pause when you walk with your camera.
That’s when your voice begins to emerge.
Because in the end, the best advice remains the simplest of all: be yourself.
Even if the algorithm thinks otherwise.
Gijón. Epicenter. Photography. A bridge between two centuries through the camera 
The world in black and white: silence, depth, and mystery 
When Images Know Things You Don’t Yet: Photography, Intuition, and the Unconscious 
Taking the camera for a walk: frustration, motivation and photographs that say nothing 
Photographing windows in Prague 
What is poetry? And you ask me that?
La fotografía es abrir ventanas a la sensibilidad, una testifical permanente del momento, un conservar el hoy para mañans, el aquí y ahora de la mirada que nos ofrece quien dispara a bocajarro o con precisión sobre nosotros y el mundo.
Excélsior.
Gracias por el comentario José Manuel. Me gusta mucho esa mirada que propones. La fotografía tiene algo de eso: de abrir una pequeña grieta en el tiempo para que el instante no desaparezca del todo.