Why I'm a Creative Visual Storyteller

A Photo for Every Day in 2012 - January to June

Those first six months were electric. I was energized by the commitment I made, to stop, observe, and frame something new each day. The result was a wildly diverse set of images, each one frozen in the grain and color of a moment I might have otherwise missed.

This collage is a vibrant tapestry of my daily rhythms. You’ll spot textures from nature, leaves, flowers, and rain-slick streets, each reminding me to pause and breathe. Ordinary objects like bananas, coffee cups, and keyboards became my muses, transformed by light and perspective. Some images were candid scenes from commutes, like a wing shot from a plane window, or a lamp casting shadows during a power cut.

There’s a joyful unpredictability here: colorful Skittles beside rusty drains, neon greens beside muted pastels. I remember one photo came from standing under a tree for ten minutes waiting for the wind to still. Another was snapped on the way to work, my morning coffee in hand.

Looking back, this half-year taught me that beauty is not rare, it’s simply undernoticed. The habit rewired my eyes to see story and structure in chaos. It made me chase light. Some images were rushed, yes, but even the hurried ones tell stories: of late evenings, forgotten errands, or a flash of curiosity in the middle of a meeting.

And perhaps most importantly, I learned that showing up creatively every day is enough. That practice fuels progress. That intent builds instinct. And that art doesn’t wait for perfect.

A Photo for Every Day in 2012 - July to December

The second half of 2012 was a deeper dive into the rhythm of everyday life. With the first six months behind me, I started noticing how my perspective had shifted, my instinct for light, balance, and detail had matured. Each day felt like a small assignment to find a story that others might have walked past.

This collage reveals a fascination with surfaces and color. The shimmer of wet stone, the grain of wood, the curve of an old lamp, they all felt photographable. There’s also more experimentation: layering reflections, shooting through glass, and capturing movement mid-frame. Some shots came from home, others from places I simply wandered into with fresh eyes.

There’s a clear lean toward intimacy here: a solitary lightbulb, the steam from a teacup, shadows cast across a dinner plate. I was less focused on perfection and more willing to just press the shutter, because by now, the act of taking a photo was less about outcome and more about presence.

This half of the year taught me to trust the process. Some days felt uninspired. But those were the days when framing a moment became its own quiet triumph. I realized creativity isn’t about constant inspiration, it’s about paying attention, even when nothing demands it.

A Photo for Every Day in 2013 - January to June

With a full year of photo journaling behind me, I entered 2013 with more intention, more experimentation, and a clearer visual identity. This collage reflects that transition. My framing became bolder, my subjects more diverse, and I found myself chasing light with purpose rather than luck.

Food photography makes a vibrant appearance, there’s homemade Indian thalis, café table spreads, and street food captured moments before the first bite. Nature continued to be my biggest teacher, but now I paid closer attention to detail: a single water droplet, a patch of clover, a piece of coral on the beach.

Several of these photos are from evening walks or weekend trips. There’s a soft romanticism to the tones, sunsets framed by lamp posts, shells half-buried in sand, shadows layered over textures. I was learning to observe rather than intervene. The camera became a quiet partner.

I also started composing with mood in mind, sometimes melancholic, sometimes playful. Every post on Instagram was a little narrative, even when the image was abstract. This phase pushed me to find meaning even when life felt routine. A chipped cup or a leafy windowsill could hold a story if I slowed down to notice.

These six months deepened my relationship with the idea of documentation. Photography was no longer just art, it became a philosophy: to honor the present, one frame at a time.

A Photo for Every Day in 2013 - July to December

The second half of 2013 was where my photography became more instinctive. I no longer had to remind myself to take a photo each day, it had become second nature. I’d see something, feel something, and my hand would already be reaching for my phone.

This collage is bursting with texture, metal, glass, petals, linen, food. There’s a tactile richness here. I was fascinated by how materials reacted to light and how contrast could tell a story. Even a cracked wall or chipped edge felt poetic if framed right.

You’ll find more human presence in these frames: a child in motion, hands working, eyes glancing. These were no longer just aesthetic experiments, they were glimpses into emotion, habit, and fleeting moments. A red teacup, a plate of cake, and a handwritten note all became portals into someone’s day, often mine.

I also started leaning into abstract and macro compositions. Close-up frames of stitching, blurred motion, grainy walls, and spills of color revealed a desire to explore storytelling in the in-between spaces, the overlooked, the discarded, the small things.

By the end of the year, I realized the camera wasn’t just a creative outlet, it was a way of anchoring myself. It helped me process, reflect, and notice joy in the ordinary. And as I clicked my final photo of 2013, I knew this was a habit I’d return to again and again.

A Photo for Every Day in 2014 - January to June

This was the year I stopped trying to “impress” and started clicking for myself. I wasn’t out to capture a perfect sunset or a striking silhouette. I just wanted to bottle up the mood of a moment. And it shows, this half-year collage is part chaos, part calm, and all heart.

A cupcake next to a game controller. Rain-specked leaves sharing space with neon-lit glasses. The broken spoon, the solitary rose, a messy desk note that reads "Project 1." It’s personal, spontaneous, sometimes messy, but always honest. No setup, no filters pretending to be more profound than the moment really was.

I found myself reaching for my phone during coffee breaks, train rides, even while waiting in line at the store. And somehow, those stolen moments of photography made the day feel complete, like I had paused just long enough to notice that life was actually happening.

Was every photo amazing? No. But they were real. They told me what I was curious about that day. What textures pulled my attention. What light caught my eye. What story I didn’t want to forget.

If 2012 was about starting, and 2013 about learning, then 2014 was about letting go. Letting go of structure, of expectations, of the need to overthink. I started to trust the click. And in doing so, I think I found a little more of my creative voice.

A Photo for Every Day in 2014 - July to December

If the first half of 2014 was about finding rhythm, the second half was all about breaking it, in the best way possible. I stopped chasing the “perfect moment” and started shooting whatever sparked joy or curiosity. It could be a bowl of idli sambar. Or it could be a lone leaf clinging to a windshield.

This collage is loud, colorful, chaotic, just like life when you let it unfold without a script. There’s food, always food. Doodles, desserts, comic books, bat logos, and the occasional piece of unintentional art spotted on a pavement or wall. I didn’t plan any of it, and that was the magic. These weren’t setups, they were surprises.

Some days I took photos without looking twice. A scribbled quote. A key on a book. A half-eaten snack. Other days, I’d pause mid-conversation because the light on someone’s face just felt... right. And I’d quietly steal a frame.

Looking at this half-year now, it feels like a diary written in exclamations. Not every entry was deep. Not every shot had a metaphor. But together, they remind me how beautiful randomness can be when you trust your eye and follow your gut.

I didn’t overthink. I didn’t edit much. I just shot. And in that daily act of spontaneity, I think I rediscovered the playful part of my creativity, the one that smiles, clicks, and says, “Why not?”

A Photo for Every Day in 2015 (Jan to Mar) and 2018 (Apr to Jun)

That's half the year, people! In 2015, I made it to day 90 before calling it quits, not out of defeat, but out of peace. I'd started setting such high expectations for each photo that the joy of the process began to fade. I didn’t want to pick up my camera anymore. And if I'm being honest, life was shifting, I was about to become a father, I’d switched jobs, and suddenly... the walk each day felt complete even without a click.

That said, those 90 days still hold a place in my heart. They were raw, impulsive, and entirely mine. I wasn’t trying to make art, I was just responding to the moment. That meant photographing whatever stopped me mid-thought: steam from a cup, an oddly shaped fruit, or a scribbled sticky note. It got me out of the house, gave me 45 minutes of daily clarity, and taught me to see all over again.

Fast forward to 2018. That old itch crept back in. I missed the mindfulness. Missed that sense of curiosity. I missed looking at the world and thinking, "Wait, I need to shoot this." Even when I wasn't photographing, my mind was framing images. That’s when I knew it was time to return, no pressure this time, just play.

April to June of 2018 was about rediscovery. My phone became my sidekick again. My kid, Liam? My accidental muse. I try not to turn the feed into a dad's scrapbook, but some shots I just couldn’t resist. This collage is a jumble of that joy, food, doodles, quotes, shadows, reflections, candy wrappers, coffee cups, and yes, some father-son magic.

This was spontaneity redefined. Less about performance, more about presence. A photo when I felt like it. No rules, just rhythm. It reminded me that creativity isn’t about consistency, it’s about returning. And I was back.

A Photo for Every Day in 2018 - July to December

By the second half of 2018, I was fully back in the groove, but without the pressure that once made me pause the project. This time, it felt like my eye and intuition were perfectly synced. I'd walk past a puddle, notice the way light bounced off a scratched pillar, or see Liam playing near a stack of books, and instinctively, I’d capture it.

This collage is a technicolor trail of curiosity. Toys, temple rooftops, weird lighting, curious reflections, objects lost in time. Many of these were taken in under 10 seconds, mid-errand, or while parenting on the move. It was never about planning, it was about being present and noticing what others skipped.

There’s no single story here, only fragments. Each photo is like a page torn from a different book: a lazy breakfast, a dusty sidewalk, a temple bell, a cinema ticket stub. I didn’t ask them to be meaningful. But together, they tell me that life, even at its most mundane, is worth documenting.

I think what I love most about this set is that it proves spontaneity isn't random, it’s a rhythm you train yourself into. The camera became invisible again, an extension of my instinct. No retakes. No rules. Just a shot when something whispered, “This matters.”

Looking back, these photos aren’t perfect. But they are alive. And that, I’ve learned, is more than enough.

A Photo for Every Day in 2019 - Full Year

In 2019, I didn’t start this project with a goal, I started with a mood. A quiet impulse. I’d been here before: that pull to grab the phone, look around, and just document the day. No rules. No daily alarm. Just me, seeing again.

These first six months turned into a kaleidoscope of fleeting, beautiful nothings. A stray cable. A broken keyboard. A street mural. A coffee stain. Bits of life you’d usually walk right past. And that’s why I photographed them. The more ordinary the moment, the more joy I took in capturing it.

This collage doesn’t follow a visual theme, it flows with instinct. Some photos were accidents. Some were visual jokes. Some were just me pausing at a traffic light and thinking, “That might be something.” Others, like Liam caught mid-expression, were irresistible.

If there’s one thing I carried forward from all the years before, it’s this: creativity loves chaos. It thrives in pockets of spontaneity. I didn’t edit heavily. I didn’t post to impress. I posted because I noticed. And that felt like enough.

This project might not have lasted the whole year, but these 180-odd days were a celebration of presence. Of remembering that we don’t take photos to show the world we were there. We take them to remind ourselves that we felt something worth remembering.