“We have two ears and one mouth so that we can listen twice as much as we speak.” – Epictetus
I think there is a lot to learn from the Stoics practise. Especially in todays society. The quote above is something I have thought about when out photographing the landscape.
It’s easy to show up somewhere beautiful and immediately start “doing”, setting up the camera, chasing compositions, worrying about light, thinking about how the image will look online later. I’ve done that more times than I can count. And more often than not, those are the days I come home with images that feel fine… but not honest.
The better days start when I slow down.
Landscape photography has taught me that listening isn’t passive. It takes effort to stand still, to resist the urge to control the scene, and to simply pay attention. When I arrive somewhere new, I try not to take the camera out right away. I walk. I look. I notice where the light falls, how the wind moves through the grass, how the place feels rather than how it might photograph.
Sometimes nothing happens for a while. And that’s okay.
Those quiet moments, the ones where I’m not “making” anything, are often when the photograph starts to reveal itself.
I’ve learned that the landscape doesn’t need me to add much to it. It doesn’t need to be exaggerated or pushed to be meaningful. When I listen closely, the choices become simpler, where to stand, what to leave out, when to press the shutter, or when not to.
Editing works the same way. I used to think stronger meant louder. More contrast, more colour, more drama. Now I try to let the image say what it wants to say. If it’s quiet, I let it stay quiet.
Not every photograph needs to shout.
Listening more than speaking has changed the way I experience being outdoors. Photography becomes less about collecting images and more about being present. The camera stops feeling like a barrier and starts feeling like a way of paying attention.
Some of my favourite photographs are tied to moments I barely spoke at all , mornings wrapped in fog, long waits for soft light, places where the silence felt like part of the composition.
I don’t think landscape photography is about mastering nature. I think it’s about respecting it. About showing up with curiosity instead of expectations. About listening long enough to understand what’s already there.
Epictetus had it right. When I listen twice as much as I speak, the work feels more honest, and the experience stays with me long after I’ve packed the camera away.
