I’ve touched on photography before in a previous blog, but this time I want to take a slightly different angle.

Chụp ảnh và lý do hoàn hảo để bắt đầu một sở thích

This week, I shared this topic with my fellow PhD researchers. Preparing that presentation made me reflect more deeply on the value of photography in my life. So, I wrote this post in English as it is preparation for my presentation. This post is not just about how I got into photography as a hobby, but also about what it has taught me, lessons that go beyond the camera and into life and research, hoping to better articulate the connections I’ve found between creativity, curiosity, and academic work.

To me, a hobby is something you pour your time and money into without expecting much in return, no clear goal, no pressure to perform. We do it simply because you love it. I’ve never tracked how much I’ve spent on photography gear or how many hours I’ve invested. And honestly, I’ve never asked myself what the “return on investment” is. But if I had to name one visible reward, it’s this: having a collection of cool, well-composed photos ready to update my profile picture or curate an aesthetic Instagram feed. That’s adult fun at its finest.

The first lesson from photography: Investing in what matters

When I first got into photography, I quickly realised that it’s an expensive hobby. Buying a DSLR camera was one of the biggest purchases I made as a student. But that decision taught me more than just how to take photos, it taught me about commitment, patience, and trusting my instincts. I’ve worked, saved, and made an effort to get what I want rather than waiting for a gift from heaven or a prince to appear and save my life.

It was my final year at university. I was doing a part-time internship at a non-governmental organisation. The stipend was modest, so I asked the finance staff to help me save it up over time. After nine months, I had finally saved enough. That’s when I met someone selling a second-hand Canon 60D.

People often ask me, “How did you know the camera was in good condition?” The truth is: I didn’t. I just trusted him. Could I have spent more time researching? Maybe, but I did not know where to research. I also asked myself: Should I keep waiting, doubting, and delaying something I truly wanted? When you spend too much time weighing every decision, wondering if it’s good or bad, calculating every penny, the time still flies. And that time could be used to do so many other things. Sometimes, you just have to go for it.

That camera is still with me today, ten years later. And that same “just go for it” spirit followed me when I bought my upright piano, another big investment in something I love. I’ve been lucky, yes, but I also believe in the quiet power of trusting the process and following your heart.

So, the first lesson photography taught me is this: if something truly matters to you, it’s worth the effort. It’s about saving, committing, and believing in your own choices. The bigger the dream, the more effort it takes.

And I think, from that one decision, many lessons have quietly shaped the way I live, work, and grow.

Photography principles that reframe my self

As I explored photography, I discovered that beauty isn’t just subjective; it follows certain principles that make our eyes feel comfortable and our minds feel engaged. These rules, like the rule of thirds, the golden ratio, and eye movement direction, taught me that visual harmony can be learned and applied. It’s not just about taste, it’s about understanding how we perceive the world.

The focus

Every good photo has a clear focus. It draws the viewer’s eye and tells a story. In life, focus matters just as much. It’s about knowing what truly deserves your energy and attention. What do you want people to remember about you? What path are you walking with purpose?

Photography taught me that clarity is powerful, whether it’s in a frame or in your life goals.

Perspective: The power of changing your angle

One of the most transformative lessons I learned from photography is how much the angle matters. Simply changing where you stand/sit, crouching, or looking up can completely alter the resulting photo. And in life, perspective changes everything.

A situation’s meaning shifts with your gaze; beauty does not totally live in the objects but in the eye that sees it. This idea has deeply influenced how I experience the world. For example, when I travel to a new place, I can see its beauty more clearly. The trip becomes more enjoyable, and that’s how travelling slowly became one of my favourite hobbies.

It also changed the way I enjoy art, whether it’s a painting or a film. It’s a special feeling when you suddenly understand an author’s message just by looking at an image, without a single word. What used to be just entertainment now feels more meaningful.

But we don’t need to go far to find beauty. It’s all around us. Even on gloomy days, I can find something beautiful just by looking down at my shoes on the ground. It becomes a kind of art if we know how to choose the right angle.

Retouching and Growing up

Even a great photo needs a little bit of retouching. In photography, we don’t just learn how to shoot, we also learn how to edit. Editing helps shape the mood, the message, and the story we want to tell.

Nothing is perfect at the beginning. Growth, improvement, and reflection are all part of the process. This principle taught me to keep going, even when I felt I wasn’t good enough or lacked natural talent.

I still remember the time I went to a photo store to print some of my work. The manager looked at the screen and said, “Those are so bad.” Yes, she actually said that. Others told me my photos looked silly. Yes, “dở hơi” was the comment on my work. And of course, I often compared my work to others and felt like theirs was so much better.

But what could I do? I chose to keep learning instead of letting disappointment stop me.

As I mentioned before, I do photography simply because I enjoy it. I never had big expectations, so I didn’t feel pressured to be perfect. I just kept going, looking at beautiful photos on Instagram, Pinterest, and Flickr for inspiration. I learned from friends, YouTube tutorials, and online courses on platforms like Udemy.

And over time, I realised something important: once you understand the basics, improvement comes naturally through practice and experience.

Observing: Seeing the world and myself more clearly

Photography has helped me become a better observer, not just of the world around me, but of myself. The more I appeared in my own photos, the more I learned about how I look and how I want to be seen. For example, I discovered that my face looks better from the right side than the left. That small realisation changed how I pose, how I dress, how I do my makeup. I’m not a professional, but honestly, I look better now than I did when I was younger.

But observation isn’t just about appearance; it’s also about awareness. I began to observe my thoughts, my emotions, and the reasons behind my behaviours. That’s how I started to understand what self-awareness really means.

Growing up in an Asian culture, it was common to hear criticism about appearance: “You’re fat”, “You’re ugly”, “You’re not smart”, “You’re not good enough.” Even parents always say, “Look at that other child, why can’t you be like them?” I didn’t even know who that “other child” was. On one hand, those comments pushed us to improve. But on the other hand, they cast a long shadow, one that quietly chipped away at my confidence. When I let other people’s opinions define me, I tried to become someone I wasn’t. I chased approval instead of authenticity. And sometimes, I lost myself.

When the girl remembers who she was, the game changed. Recently, I wrote about the concept of the “shadow” and how self-awareness begins when we observe it. When I started to notice the shadow inside me, acknowledge it, understand it, and then shift my focus toward what makes me feel good, my life turned a new page. I felt happier, more confident. The energy inside me began to reflect on the outside. And then, as if by magic, good things started to happen. In this way, photography also taught me to believe in that magic, the kind that comes when you see clearly, feel deeply, and live honestly.

The photographer’s eye in research

When I do research, I’m often surprised by how many skills I’ve carried over from photography. What started as a creative hobby has quietly shaped the way I approach academic work.

For example, learning to look at a subject from different angles, a fundamental in photography, has helped me gain deeper insights into my interdisciplinary research. It’s a habit that encourages curiosity and flexibility, especially when tackling complex problems.

I still remember attending a discourse analysis workshop for qualitative research and realizing, with a smile, that I had already learned some of those observation techniques from a photographer on YouTube. The visual literacy I developed through photography also helps me design better presentation slides, posters, and conceptual models. Art and research, it turns out, are more connected than I thought.

Photography didn’t just give me hard skills like shooting and editing, it gave me a mindset. A way of seeing.

I think skills like focus, zooming in on details, storytelling, framing, composition, balance, and reflection are sometimes useful in research. And perhaps most importantly, it taught me patience, the kind that comes from years of trial, error, and quiet improvement.

These principles now guide how I approach my research: with intention, creativity, and care.

But sometimes, it is not fun…

Over time, I started setting higher and higher standards for what I considered beautiful. I’d look at a painting or watch a movie and think, “This isn’t good enough.” And when I spent time and money on something that didn’t meet my expectations, I felt frustrated, even angry. I became more demanding, more judgmental.

That mindset didn’t stop with art. It turned inward.  I began to criticise myself more harshly. The more I observed, the more flaws I saw. I wanted to improve, but I realised something painful: it wasn’t other people criticising me, it was me.

And the more effort I put into capturing the perfect photo, the more I sometimes lost touch with the moment itself. I was so focused on getting the shot that I forgot to simply be present.

That’s when I realised it’s time to learn about balance. Loving something deeply doesn’t mean it won’t challenge you. Photography has given me so much, but it makes me realise that I should be gentle with myself. To let go of perfection. And sometimes, the most meaningful thing I can do is simply observe without judgment, without pressure. Just observe

What I don’t like when people talk about a hobby

“You should have a hobby.”

Honestly, I really don’t like hearing this when I say I’m stressed and someone responds with, “You should have a hobby.” I have many hobbies, and I’m still stressed. In my darker moments, that advice feels like someone saying, “You don’t know how to live happily.” And that only deepens the negativity.

Stress isn’t just about lacking hobbies. It’s complex. Sometimes, when I’m overwhelmed, even thinking about starting something new feels like more pressure. And let’s be real, my supervisor isn’t going to evaluate my Instagram aesthetics. They care about the quality of my academic writing. So when we talk about well-being, please di not reduce it to “just get a hobby.” At the very least, understand whether the person already has one.

This, too, is a lesson in perspective. Am I pointing my lens at what really matters? Is there another way to look at this stress?

I don’t want to use hobbies as an escape from real problems. If I don’t face the problem, it stays. But I do believe a hobby can offer more than distraction; it can be a gentle return to what makes life bearable. A quiet space to gather strength, build resilience, and return to the world a little braver, with new skills to face the challenges ahead.

“It is better if your hobby can generate income”

I’ve heard this too, especially when I spend so much time and money “just for fun.” And it led to one of the hardest lessons I’ve learned.

In 2017, my friend and I opened a bakery. Baking was my hobby at the time. But once it became a business, everything changed: deadlines, market trends, KPIs, customer expectations, revenue goals. It became stressful. The day I packed up all my baking tools and gave them away, I felt a strange sense of relief. It was like I had sold my happiness for money and ambition. It was a hurtful decision. And baking is no longer my hobby; even now, I don’t want to try it again. I just go out and buy some things, the bakeries on the street do a very good job.

As I’ve shared, photography has helped me develop self-awareness and reconnect with my true self. It’s something I don’t want to sell at any price because it’s priceless. In the end, I’ve realised that the professional path I want to pursue is becoming a researcher, not a professional photographer. When I immerse myself in my hobby, I’m not chasing success or validation. I’m seeking a gentle space where my heart can speak freely and pure joy flows softly. No judgment. No expectations. No sacrifice.

I want to live as my true, honest self. And in that space, I’ve found my real happiness.

Conclusion: A Life Made of Little pure joy

I have many hobbies: playing piano, photography, calligraphy, and reading books. I’ve never reached a professional level in any of them, and honestly, I’m okay with that. These hobbies were never about achievement or recognition. They were about joy, curiosity, and connection with the world, and with myself. Looking back, I believe that choosing to invest in a camera or making the effort to start something new has always been one of the best decisions I’ve made. Each hobby has taught me something different: patience, perspective, self-awareness, and resilience. And together, they’ve shaped the person I am today.

I don’t need to be the best at any of them. I just need to be present, honest, and open to learning. Because in the end, it’s not about mastering a skill, it’s about discovering who you are through the things you love.

This is my story with my camera. And you, “What has your pure joy taught you about yourself?”

Cám ơn bạn đã đọc đến đây. Nếu bạn thấy thú vị và bổ ích hãy chia sẻ với bạn vè và đừng quên theo dõi qua Email để không bỏ lỡ những bài viết mới trên Blog. Bạn có thể để lại bình luận để cho mình biết nội dung nào bạn đang quan tâm, cũng như để lại email để mình gửi cho bạn những tài liệu hữu ích.

Theo dõi để nhận Newsletters

Theo dõi Fanpage để nhanh chóng cập nhật bài viết và chia sẻ mới nhất: https://www.facebook.com/Violetstoryblog