Frame by Frame
November 1, 2026

The camera could wait

Two fallen birch trunks lying one above the other under a thick layer of snow, bare snow-covered trees behind them in flat grey light.

For years, I had wanted to learn photography. I managed to make photography complicated before I had really started.

I read about settings. I looked at cameras. I tried to understand what equipment I might need and worried about not knowing how to use any of it properly.

It was quite easy to turn something I wanted to try into something I first needed to prepare for.

I could learn the basics. Choose a camera. Work out which lens I would need. Understand aperture, shutter speed and ISO. Then, once I knew enough, I could start taking photographs.

That was the sensible order. It was also a very good way not to start.

Starting small, starting now

At home, reading the ikigai book, I decided to do it differently. I wasn’t going to buy a camera. Not yet. I wasn’t going to learn everything first either.

I would start with what I already had.

It was one of those cold Lithuanian winter days. I took my phone and went walking with Eika. Snow lay everywhere and the sky was grey. I started taking pictures.

Snow-covered branches. Fallen trunks lying under the snow. Paths disappearing between the trees. Eika sitting in the snow.

I didn’t really know what I was doing. And, for once, that wasn’t a reason to stop.

Another picture

Without settings to master or equipment to figure out, there wasn’t much left to do except look. I pointed the phone at things that caught my attention and tried to work out what exactly I liked about them.

Sometimes what I saw didn’t survive the photograph at all. Something that had looked beautiful in front of me became completely ordinary on the screen. 

So I took another picture. The same fallen birch, a little different each time.

Some were better. Quite a few weren’t. Nothing terrible happened. There was something unexpectedly freeing in that.

I still wanted to learn photography. That hadn’t changed.

What changed was the order.

I didn’t have to understand photography before taking photographs. I didn’t need to know which camera to buy before finding out whether I even enjoyed carrying one around. And I didn’t have to turn a new interest into another thing I needed to do properly from the beginning.

The camera could wait. So could the lenses, the settings and all the things I still didn’t understand. For the moment, my phone was enough.

And perhaps starting this way would let me learn something else first: what catches my eye, what makes me stop, what I keep trying to fit inside a frame.

One frame at a time

I came home from that walk with a collection of winter photographs. Some I liked. Some I didn’t. Some looked nothing like what I remembered seeing. But that wasn’t really the point.

I had finally stopped preparing to start.

I don’t know yet where photography will take me. I expect I’ll eventually want a camera. I’ll learn what the settings do, make plenty of mistakes and probably find new ways of making the whole thing unnecessarily complicated again.

related
The Inner Map

A tourist in my own life

I had become very good at keeping everything in order, without noticing how little room that left to simply be in my own life. It took me a while to see the pattern. Even longer to start wondering whether I could live with it differently.

Occasional letters about presence and place.