This Is Not Me (Anymore)
Letting go of the version I no longer recognize
Lately, I’ve been looking at my own work and feeling a strange kind of distance. Most of my images are clean, composed, familiar—but they don’t move me like they used to. I scroll through them and find myself wondering when I stopped feeling connected to what I was creating. And for a lot of images I started to ask myself : When did it become more about what “works” than what feels true?
It didn’t happen suddenly. It was a slow drift.
I kept producing, kept posting, kept doing the things I was supposed to do to stay visible. And in doing that, I slipped into a rhythm that looked good from the outside—but felt hollow on the inside.
Image: Martin Hirsch
When Familiar Becomes a Cage
Letting go of what works to rediscover what matters.
I’ve built a style over time. A way of seeing, of composing, of editing.
It became recognizable, even dependable.
But lately, that dependability has started to feel like a cage. I know how to make things look good. I know what kind of photo will perform. But somewhere in that process, I’ve stopped surprising myself. I've stopped feeling challenged. And slowly, I’ve stopped caring about the kind of work I thought I was supposed to care about.
It’s a hard thing to admit—that the thing you’ve become known for no longer fits.
That the creative space you built with care now feels like something you're trying to grow out of quietly, without drawing attention to the shift. But I’ve realized I can’t keep creating just to stay in motion.
I need to reconnect. Reclaim. Redefine.
Chasing the Unknown
Not to impress. Not to win. Just to feel again.
I’m not working on a new series to showcase some new direction. I’m trying to find my way back to what matters—to use the act of creating as a way to ask better questions.
What happens when I stop performing?
What do I see when I stop looking for approval?
What do I feel when I no longer try to meet expectation?
Two ideas are currently circling me.
This Is Not Me—a reflection on identity, on what we show and what we hide, on how we become shaped by how we want to be seen.
I, Algorithm—a deeper exploration of how technology has rewired our sense of desire, validation, and self-expression.
Not a Reset. A Return.
To curiosity. To truth. To whoever I’m becoming.
I don’t know what either of them will become.
And maybe that’s the point. I’m not chasing results this time.
I’m chasing the discomfort.
The honesty. The unknown.
This isn’t a reset.
It’s a return.
To curiosity. To truth.
To myself—whoever that is now.
Let’s see where this leads.
Images and Text © Sascha van der Werf
