“Create like you give a damn. Not for trends. Not for approval. For you.”

Something Is Missing

There’s a reason you feel like something is missing.
Because deep down, under the hustle, the client requests, the aesthetic pressure, and the fear of not being enough, you know that something's off.

You feel it—maybe not always clearly, but it's there. A quiet discomfort. A sense that your work isn’t aligned with your soul.

You feel it every time you shoot something just because it's "what works."
Every time you edit a photo to match someone else's feed.
Every time you mute your gut in the name of being "relatable."

You know that checking boxes, chasing trends, and playing it safe is killing your creativity.
Slowly. Quietly. Efficiently.

And when you scroll through the noise—on Instagram, Pinterest, blogs, the industry pages—you can see it.
Work that is technically flawless but emotionally hollow.
Work made to please, to perform, to fit into a feed—perfectly curated, easily digestible, and utterly forgettable.
Work that is surface-deep and soul-starved.
Designed for algorithms. Engineered for engagement. Completely fucking empty.

🎥 Watch This: The Social Dilemma

“If the algorithm is shaping our inspiration, who’s really creating our work?”

I’m adding this not as another “must-watch,” but as a mirror.
Because if you’ve ever felt like your creativity is shrinking to fit inside a feed, this will hit home.
This documentary is one of the clearest, most haunting explanations of how social media hijacks our attention, numbs our intuition, and quietly kills originality.

Watch it. Let it bother you.
Then go make something that fights back.

What If You Made Work That Actually Mattered?

The kind of work that doesn’t chase clout or comparison.
That isn’t made to go viral or fit a grid.
The kind of work that people feel.
That makes them pause, breathe, remember.
The kind of work that lingers in someone’s bones because it speaks a truth they didn’t have words for.

This is your wake-up call: Create like you give a damn.
Not for likes. Not for algorithms. Not for expectations.
But for you. For your voice. For your sanity.
For the people who will see themselves in your truth and whisper, "Finally."

Because when you create from a place of gut-level honesty—
from memory, from pain, from curiosity, from joy—
that is when people connect.
That’s when they stop scrolling.
That’s when your work hits harder than any trending sound or viral caption.

🎬 Her – Final Scene

“Sometimes the quietest scenes say the most.”

No closure. No noise. Just presence.
This ending isn’t about answers. It’s about what’s left when everything else falls away.

Content Note: This scene touches on deep emotional themes—grief, disconnection, and healing.
Watch gently.

“‘Dear Catherine, I’ve been sitting here thinking about all the things I wanted to apologize to you for. All the pain we caused each other. Everything I put on you. Everything I needed you to be or needed you to say. I’m sorry for that. I’ll always love you ’cause we grew up together and you helped make me who I am. I just wanted you to know there will be a piece of you in me always, and I’m grateful for that. Whatever someone you become, and wherever you are in the world, I’m sending you love. You’re my friend to the end. Love, Theodore.’ [pauses] Send.”

— Her (2013), written by Spike Jonze

Let’s Be Honest

We’re all shaped by what we consume.
Social media. Industry trends. That one popular photographer who makes everything look effortless.
The Pinterest-perfect weddings that start bleeding into your brain.
We absorb it. And then we unintentionally reflect it. We recycle the sameness.

The Wedding Industry Is a Goddamn Echo Chamber

One big loop of identical poses, soft light, fake laughter, overused props.
We, as photographers, unconsciously condition our couples to want what we’ve been told is "normal."
We show them what to expect instead of giving them permission to want something different.

We hand them a script instead of listening for their story.
We show them how to pose, how to smile, how to move—like actors reciting lines they never wrote.
But love isn’t a performance. It’s messy, unscripted, and deeply personal.

If we’re not careful, we end up directing a highlight reel instead of witnessing something real.
And then we call it authentic.

So What Do We Do About It?

We unplug. We listen deeper. We get uncomfortable.

We stop looking to the same five sources for inspiration and start paying attention to the world outside the echo.

Look at Real Life

Watch the way your partner reaches for your hand without thinking.
The way a parent touches their child’s back protectively in a crowd.
The quiet moments when someone’s guard drops and their face changes entirely.
These are the moments that matter.
These are the details that last.

Look at Your Own Life

What wrecked you in the best way? What healed you?
What made you stop mid-step and take a mental snapshot you never forgot?
That’s your source material.

Watch Films Like You’re Studying Them

Study the way a single frame holds more story than a whole carousel post.
The way light falls on skin. The tension between characters. The pacing. The silence.
Cinema teaches what most photography workshops never will.

Read Everything

Read. Not just gear reviews or business books.
Read poetry that hits like a memory.
Pull out old letters that still smell like dust and ink.
Lose yourself in song lyrics that say what you’ve never dared to.
Dive into novels written in another century—let their slowness remind you how deep storytelling can go.
Read things that crack your heart open.
Words that remind you of feelings you forgot you had.

Live More

Live. Seriously. Get the fuck out of your routine.
Say yes to a new city. Try something uncomfortable.
Talk to people with different stories.
Listen more. Feel more.
Because if you’re not living deeply, you’re just regurgitating secondhand feelings.

Your Challenge This Week

Make something that feels like a gut punch.

Maybe it's a photo that captures grief in a way that feels too close to home.
Maybe it's a letter to your younger self.
Maybe it's a piece of art that you're scared to share because it's not "on brand."
Whatever it is—let it hit hard. Let it be true.

• Write, photograph, paint, scream something that you’ve been avoiding.
• Create something that terrifies you a little. That feels too personal. Too weird. Too much.
• Put it out into the world anyway.

And find one new source of inspiration—not a social media post, not a viral reel, not a curated feed.
Something real. Something unexpected. Something alive.

Because if you’re not doing that, you’re not just wasting your time.
You’re wasting your voice.

Let’s Talk

So tell me this:
What’s the last thing you made that actually mattered to you?
And where do you go to find your real inspiration?

I want to hear it. For real.
Let’s talk. Let’s burn the old blueprints. Let’s make shit that matters.

Hugs,
Bjørn

For the hearts still beating—keep creating, keep pushing, keep giving a damn. The world needs what only you can make. Don’t you dare water it down.