Why Patience Is a Technical Skill in Photography

I Was Wired for Speed Long Before I Picked Up a Camera

I grew up on Long Island and landed in New York City for college, moving through fast paced environments from the start. I worked as an assistant in a high volume hair salon and day spa with fourteen stylists and colorists running at once, assisted during multiple New York Fashion Weeks, spent time in the styling department at Condé Nast, then transitioned into manufacturing and sales. Eventually I worked in sales in Miami alongside production and quality control, where urgency was constant and everything felt like it was always on fire. For over a decade I worked as an Operational Director for a national watersports company, navigating fast sales cycles, quick talking, and accents from all over the world. Nothing in my nervous system suggested slowing down. I talked fast, walked fast, ate fast, and even now I type fast.

When I moved to Miami, friends called me out almost immediately. They told me I didn’t have a beach walk, a chill walk. Years later, I still get told I walk too fast in stores, on sidewalks, and through airports. “Chill” has always been something I’ve had to consciously work toward.

My first attempt at motion blur in NYC, 2023. Sony A6700. Missed the mark but, I knew I was close. ISO 200 | 18mm | F5.6 | 1/13sec

Photography Exposed My Lack of Patience

When I started photography, my lack of patience showed up everywhere. I packed my drone away too early because I assumed the sky wouldn’t burn, only to watch it light up in my rearview mirror. I missed epic mornings because I chose one more late night edit and overslept. I lost countless bird shots because I couldn’t wait one more second for them to turn their head or enter the frame. I rushed settings even when no one was rushing me, resulting in missed focus and lost moments.

Once, I drove all the way from Colorado to Arizona, waited patiently in the cold for sunset, felt proud of myself, and then realized I never changed my white balance from the day before. Every image was crippled in tungsten. I’ve closed the curtains when it started raining, convincing myself there was nothing to shoot, despite knowing that rain and city lights are when photographers really come alive. All of these moments had one thing in common. Not bad luck. Not lack of skill. A lack of patience.

Patience Changed Everything

Over the course of 2024, I leaned hard into patience. It started showing up in ways I couldn’t ignore. Waiting through heavy fog that I assumed would never lift, only to be rewarded with a quiet, glowing sunrise. Learning that I cannot control the weather, but I can control my attitude and response to it. Asking myself not how to escape the rain, but how to make it work. Rain and clouds can create mood and narrative, like in East Java where it rained almost every day and told the same story I was living in real time.

If I have nowhere to go, why am I rushing to leave just because the hawk hasn’t looked my way yet. I still haven’t nailed a bird photograph I’m proud of, and I’m convinced they’re teaching me something. It will happen when I’m ready.

But patience has already paid off in other ways. A massive bull elk stepping into the frame. A calf elk caught mid air, legs bucked high, perfectly timed. Moments I never would have captured if I’d rushed away.

Although this is motion blur, this is catching motion. I guess I've been always been trying to capture that because I'm always in moving myself. Captured in 2025 on the Sony A7CR ISO 640 | 200mm | F5.0 | 1/800s Check out more of my personal works.

What the Field Teaches That No One Can Explain

Two years ago, when I only owned a drone, I went to Iceland to chase the northern lights. A local told me their mantra. If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes. I understood it then, but I didn’t truly feel it until later. I repeated that same phrase to another local on social media months afterward, and they understood exactly what I meant. So did ten thousand other people who liked the comment.

Patience is a technical skill that cannot be taught through instruction alone. It has to be felt. Someone can tell you to wait until their face turns blue, but until you spend day after day in the field, shooting consecutively, you don’t fully grasp how many opportunities you miss by leaving five minutes too early or rushing a decision. Patience gives you the space to breathe, to think, and to ask yourself what you are actually trying to convey.

After my first attempt at motion blur, a year later in 2024, I was able to capture scooter life in Vietnam. A way of life; two young parents with a baby on board. Had I not had patience maybe this shot would never exist.

Patience as a Technical Skill

Patience affects exposure, timing, composition, and storytelling just as much as shutter speed or aperture. It determines whether you wait for fog to lift, for light to soften, for a subject to enter the frame, or for yourself to settle enough to see clearly. It shapes the decisions you make when conditions aren’t ideal and reveals itself most clearly when you stop trying to control everything.

Photography didn’t make me patient overnight, but it made it unavoidable. And the more I practice patience, the more consistently my images reflect depth, mood, and intention rather than haste. This also speaks loud to travel wellness and my approach to slower, more intentional traveling.

If this resonates with how you approach photography and travel, explore my ongoing work, field experiences, and upcoming photography expeditions. Slow down. Wait it out. Let the moment meet you where you are. If you are interested in learning more photography tips check out more of my journals here.

P.S. I would love to hear about your creative journey. Feel free to contact me via email with any thoughts, questions, or replies.

xo,

Jennie

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