Imagine having to wait 30 years to learn the lessons a parent tried so hard to teach you.
That is how I feel these days.
I am in my mid-30s now, and lately I keep coming back to all the difficult things my father tried to teach me when I was a boy. Things about money. About relationships. About knowledge, and how to keep learning. At the time, I just could not understand them. Not because he did not explain them, but because I did not have the context. I had not lived in the adult world yet. I had not seen what he had seen.
I thought he was just being hard on us
For a long time, I saw my father as a difficult man. He was tough on us, especially when it came to the important things in life. As a kid, that felt like pressure. Like he was asking too much.
Now I see it more clearly.
He was not trying to make life harder. He was trying to hand us a map before we ever needed one. The problem is that a map does not mean much until you are lost.
The lessons I ignored are the ones I live now
Here is the strange part. Almost every lesson I brushed off as a boy has shown up in my life as an adult. The money lessons showed up when I started running my own business. The relationship lessons showed up when I moved across the world to build a life with my partner. The lessons about learning showed up every time I had to start over and be a beginner again.
And now I catch myself trying to teach those same lessons to other people.
That is when it hit me. This is what it feels like to be a teacher. You can see the pitfalls clearly because you have already fallen into them. And you want so badly to help someone else avoid them.
Why I call myself a late bloomer
I have never been someone who picked things up quickly. I needed to make the mistake, feel it, sit with it, and then maybe a few years later, understand it.
That has been true in life, and it has been true in photography. I have spent close to nine years behind the camera, and so much of what I know came the slow way. Missed shots. Bad pricing decisions. Saying yes to the wrong clients. Doubting my own eye. Waiting too long to ask for help.
I do not regret any of it, because it made me who I am. But I would not wish the slow road on anyone who does not have to take it.
Becoming the mentor I needed
This is why I mentor and coach up-and-coming photographers.
My job now is not just to take photos. It is to find people who love this craft as much as I do and help them skip some of the years I lost. To share the context, the clues, and the lessons that took me so long to pick up. To help them find their footing faster, build confidence sooner, and grow into the photographers they want to be.
In a way, I am doing what my father did. I am trying to hand someone a map before they need it. The difference is that I get to explain why the map matters, because I remember exactly what it felt like to be lost.
For the photographers just starting out
If you are early in your photography journey, here is what I want you to know:
You do not have to figure it all out alone. Asking for guidance is not weakness. It is a shortcut.
Your mistakes are not proof you are not cut out for this. They are part of the work.
Mindset matters as much as gear. How you see yourself shapes how you see everything else.
Time is the one thing you cannot get back. Learn from people who have already walked the road.
Photography is a passion built on observation, art, and creativity. It deserves to be enjoyed, not just survived. If I can save you a few years of slow learning, that is time you get to spend doing the thing you love.
Let's talk
If you are an up-and-coming photographer and want help avoiding the pitfalls I went through, I would love to hear from you. Reach out through my website or send me an email.
And if you still have a parent who tried to teach you the hard things, maybe give them a call. You might finally understand what they meant.
Robespierre Dornagon
