The Moment I Fell in Love with Photography

Sometimes, a passion sneaks up on you when you’re least expecting it. I didn’t set out to fall in love with photography. In fact, for a long time, it was just something that happened around me — a quick phone snap here, a blurry tourist photo there. But everything changed one day, completely by accident. Looking back, I can pinpoint the moment when photography stopped being just a way to capture memories and became something much bigger — a journey I’m still excited to be on today.

Before the Shutter Clicked

Before that day, photography wasn’t much more than a casual interest. I’d admired it from a distance, browsed a few fancy cameras online (usually after checking my bank balance and sighing heavily), and occasionally thought, “Maybe one day.”

Eventually, I treated myself to a Sony digital camera — a Christmas bonus gift to myself back in 2012. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was mine, and it was enough to start dabbling.

Little did I know, that little camera would capture the photo that would make me feelphotography for the first time — not just see it.

The Moment It Clicked (Literally and Figuratively)

I was on holiday, standing on the rugged cliffs of Tintagel in Cornwall — camera in hand, salty sea breeze in my face, probably questioning my choice of footwear and if the dog would tow me off the cliff.

In front of me stood the haunting statue of King Arthur, sword in hand, looking out over the endless Atlantic. Something about the scene — the dramatic sky, the wild coastline, the feeling that history was somehow breathing all around me — made me pause.

I lifted the camera and clicked the shutter.

And for the first time, it didn’t feel like I was just taking a photo.

It felt like I was telling a story.

The moment it all began

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In that simple click, something shifted. Photography wasn’t about snapping everything I saw anymore — it was about capturing a feeling, freezing a moment that would have otherwise drifted away. And I have been chasing that feeling ever since.

A Spark That Grew Stronger

At the time, it stayed a quiet passion. Life carried on — busy days, work, family — and photography simmered gently in the background. My second photo, rather than a snap, was a portrait of my brother at a family BBQ. It was like ‘hey, I can capture people too’

A face a mother could only love

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It wasn’t until a few years later, after the passing of my dad — who had dabbled in wedding photography himself — that the ember started burning again.

Dad left behind not just memories, but his beloved camera equipment. Picking up his gear felt like picking up a part of him — like continuing a conversation we never quite got to finish.

Photography, once again, started calling. But this camera had more buttons and modes than I knew what to do with, I mean what the hell was a ‘shutter priority’ and is the exposure triangle the same as the Bermuda triangle?

I joined an online photography school called ‘A year with my camera’ which broke things down into manageable chunks. Trying different modes and different photography genres. My confidence grew.

After some experimenting I got the first shot where I applied what learned. I visualised the shot (a sharp shot of the harbour with a man and his son contrasting out of focus to the left), composed, waited for the perfect moment as the boy squinted into the sun in my direction and ‘snap’ I captured the photo I had visualised.

Not perfect but is special to me

Continuing the Journey

Wanting to support me, my mum to helped me to upgrade to a professional camera — the Canon R6 Mark II, a camera I had been daydreaming about but couldn’t quite stretch to on my own.

Cue the happy tears (and maybe a small happy dance that should never be seen by the public).

The Canon R6 Mark II didn’t just feel like a purchase — it felt like permission to really chase this passion properly. I could no longer blame the camera, any blurry images would be down to me.

What Photography Means to Me Now

That first real moment with the camera — and the memories tied to it — changed everything.

Photography isn’t just about gear (although let’s be honest, it definitely helps). It’s about slowing down, noticing things most people rush past, and freezing moments you never want to forget.

Every time I lift my camera to my eye, I feel a little more connected — to the world around me, to my memories, and most importantly, to my dad. It’s a way of carrying him with me into every frame I capture.

Final Thoughts

That one holiday snap — on a modest point and shoot Sony camera with my Christmas bonus money — sparked something that’s still growing today.

If falling in love with photography taught me anything, it’s that sometimes the most important journeys start with a simple moment, an old camera, and a little curiosity.

My only regret Dad and I didn’t get to share photography together when he was alive.

And honestly?

I reckon Dad would be pretty proud — even if he might have raised an eyebrow at how many “essential” camera gadgets I have convinced myself are completely necessary.

(And probably laughed at how many photos I’ve taken of dramatic landscapes… only for a rogue pigeon to stroll majestically into the frame.)