When I’m on vacation, I have a slightly different mindset these days. It wasn’t long ago that my day job was as an agency creative director, so when I’d go on vacation, I’d take the opportunity to practice my skills with a camera. I brought a lot of gear, not really having a sweet spot for my work. These were exciting but insecure days of shooting — my camera body was changing with every advancement in technology and I couldn’t decide if I was a zoom or a prime guy. The shots I took were, predictably, as all over the place as my gear. I don’t regret those days at all, but it’s different now. Better, I believe. At least calmer.

I hold a camera for a living now and my vacation photography planning has adjusted. I still want great photos, but I’m just far more confident about what kind of photos I want to get. And I’m not hijacking my vacation for photography opportunities as much. But while I’ve stabilized the gear, my approach to what to shoot and what not to shoot on a vacation is still evolving.

“Compartmentalization, Palermo, Sicily, 2022.” Photos by Josh S. Rose.

The rise of the “urban photographer,” “influencer” and “travel photographer” has changed how we look at images of travel. When my grandfather traveled, with his 35mm film camera, his entire purpose was to capture things that we back here at home hadn’t experienced and then share it in living room slide shows with a tray of dried fruits and nuts. His photos were fantastic, but he wasn’t trying to impress us with them or make a living from it — it was a log of sights seen and small shared moments with loved ones. Today, every destination imaginable seems to have a “bucket list” of spectacular images to get, like Pokemon cards, both from the ground and sky. And one can never tell whether the photos are from a vacation or an assignment. Or both. The push/pull of these images, which dominate social media feeds and impress, inspire and make us jealous, create a strange dynamic that took me some time to figure out. I’m none of those types of photographers, so why push my work in that direction? To what end would these banger images help me? New business? Not really, nobody hires me for that kind of work. Engagement, a few oohs and ahs? That’s a lost cause these days. There’s a temptation to organize one’s trip around heaters, but something was telling me not to.

“The Art of Death, Catacombs, Palermo, Sicily, 2022.” By Josh S. Rose.

Cut to just 6 weeks ago. The trip was Romania and Italy, for a month, with family. Packing the camera equipment was simple: first and foremost my new Leica M11, a small little footprint, easy enough to throw around the neck, sits nicely on a small cafe table, doesn’t even need a bag, though I brought one — the same bag I always use when I’m out on assignment somewhere. But in it, now, far more extra space, as my camera equipment consists only of the M, three small lenses (21, 35, 50), and the usual set of things (blower, microfiber cloth, battery charger, cards, etc.). Plenty of extra room for a sweater, hat, wallet and whatnot. Less a “camera bag” and more my everyday backpack that also happens to have a camera in it. Subtle, but impactful difference.

“A Night in Rome, Rome, Italy, 2022.” By Josh S. Rose.

A Beach in Sicily, photo by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

I decided to have less “photography days.” In the past, because of my preoccupation with becoming a photographer, I’d set aside entire days on any trip to go shoot. With this trip, I discovered, I’d try to be okay catching shots on the fly, within the context of doing family things. It led me less to the big destinations for the big shots and more toward slice-of-life things along the way from here to there. After a bit, I started to look at what I was doing as a photographer on vacation differently.

A Street, A Gate. Sicily & Romania, 2022. Photos by Josh S. Rose.

I am really all-in on the Leica M and likely will be for the rest of my existence. I enjoy not hunting for new camera systems. I like having something that works for me. I feel in command of the Leica and the lenses now — which is saying something, because when I first started with that system, I felt completely out of control with it. The learning curve was steep, but switching to a compose/focus-first, shoot-second mentality has changed how I am as a photographer — like learning to hold a tennis racquet differently after playing for twenty years. Ten steps back to take eleven steps forward.

Today, the manual focus and careful compositions are where I start, but also where I end. I give myself a moment to take something in, I get a shot and I move on. It still has a photographer’s stamp on it, I suppose, but it’s not the result of some large search for that shot — the one that might change everything for me or end up in a magazine.

Girl in Romania, 2022. Photo by Josh S. Rose.

Within only a few days, I started looking more closely at where I was at any given time. Being present in the smallness of small villages and hidden alleyways. I followed light and subject more than trying to track down epic images I’d seen in social, or Nat Geo competitions. Even when I borrowed a drone, even though it was fun to fly over some castles, I enjoyed the smaller things more.

Building in Romania, 2022. Photo by Josh S. Rose.

Can’t hold a camera straight — various photos of Italy. Photos by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

Because I was doing less solo photography adventures and more family outings, we ended up in some scenarios that, in fact, were better than the “Hope Diamond images,” for me. An overnight with just my 7-year old out in the forest, watching bears, for example, is one of those once-in-a-lifetime scenarios you won’t see on social media, but will forever be an image I cherish and may not otherwise have gotten.

Bear Watching, Romania, 2022. Photos by Josh S. Rose.

Our trip revolved a lot around beach days, as there was some serious summer heat, so I found myself just kind of enjoying whatever those roads gave me. And after a bit, I came to enjoy these found spots even more than ones I knew were higher-impact right near me, but from the sky or at a better time of day.

Various Taormina. Photos by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

I ended up observing human behavior more because I wasn’t thinking like a landscape photographer.

Beaches of Sicily. Photos by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

And, finally, while I’d love to inundate you with so much dried fruit and stories of visual observations, I just want to say that it all feels like coming home. The photos feel, I don’t know… normal, I think. Not trying so hard. And maybe that’s the way that our photography tends to reflect where we are in life a little bit. It seemed like things came naturally — even the images that seemed more in my “style,” evolved out of spontaneous moments that were unplanned.

Italian Heat. Photos by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

I have a feeling that this will be the kit I travel with for the rest of my life. And it comes with a bit of irony, as it’s not so far off from the same basic kit my grandfather traveled with, too.

I kept having this thought while I was out. I muse in my mind on where things are with photography at any given moment. With the images streaming into our phones from so many directions and all corners of the world, I’m feeling less engaged with higher-impact photos and, really, higher-impact photography hunting. The pleasure of taking them is as fleeting as the pleasure of viewing them — quick hits and feelings that don’t last. And what feels right in these times are the things that AI art and no other photographer can capture… family. The family album and the small personal experiences one has in the midst of intimate moments feel timelessly current right now.

I think all our grandparents would agree.

When I’m on vacation, I have a slightly different mindset these days. It wasn’t long ago that my day job was as an agency creative director, so when I’d go on vacation, I’d take the opportunity to practice my skills with a camera. I brought a lot of gear, not really having a sweet spot for my work. These were exciting but insecure days of shooting — my camera body was changing with every advancement in technology and I couldn’t decide if I was a zoom or a prime guy. The shots I took were, predictably, as all over the place as my gear. I don’t regret those days at all, but it’s different now. Better, I believe. At least calmer.

I hold a camera for a living now and my vacation photography planning has adjusted. I still want great photos, but I’m just far more confident about what kind of photos I want to get. And I’m not hijacking my vacation for photography opportunities as much. But while I’ve stabilized the gear, my approach to what to shoot and what not to shoot on a vacation is still evolving.

“Compartmentalization, Palermo, Sicily, 2022.” Photos by Josh S. Rose.

The rise of the “urban photographer,” “influencer” and “travel photographer” has changed how we look at images of travel. When my grandfather traveled, with his 35mm film camera, his entire purpose was to capture things that we back here at home hadn’t experienced and then share it in living room slide shows with a tray of dried fruits and nuts. His photos were fantastic, but he wasn’t trying to impress us with them or make a living from it — it was a log of sights seen and small shared moments with loved ones. Today, every destination imaginable seems to have a “bucket list” of spectacular images to get, like Pokemon cards, both from the ground and sky. And one can never tell whether the photos are from a vacation or an assignment. Or both. The push/pull of these images, which dominate social media feeds and impress, inspire and make us jealous, create a strange dynamic that took me some time to figure out. I’m none of those types of photographers, so why push my work in that direction? To what end would these banger images help me? New business? Not really, nobody hires me for that kind of work. Engagement, a few oohs and ahs? That’s a lost cause these days. There’s a temptation to organize one’s trip around heaters, but something was telling me not to.

“The Art of Death, Catacombs, Palermo, Sicily, 2022.” By Josh S. Rose.

Cut to just 6 weeks ago. The trip was Romania and Italy, for a month, with family. Packing the camera equipment was simple: first and foremost my new Leica M11, a small little footprint, easy enough to throw around the neck, sits nicely on a small cafe table, doesn’t even need a bag, though I brought one — the same bag I always use when I’m out on assignment somewhere. But in it, now, far more extra space, as my camera equipment consists only of the M, three small lenses (21, 35, 50), and the usual set of things (blower, microfiber cloth, battery charger, cards, etc.). Plenty of extra room for a sweater, hat, wallet and whatnot. Less a “camera bag” and more my everyday backpack that also happens to have a camera in it. Subtle, but impactful difference.

“A Night in Rome, Rome, Italy, 2022.” By Josh S. Rose.

A Beach in Sicily, photo by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

I decided to have less “photography days.” In the past, because of my preoccupation with becoming a photographer, I’d set aside entire days on any trip to go shoot. With this trip, I discovered, I’d try to be okay catching shots on the fly, within the context of doing family things. It led me less to the big destinations for the big shots and more toward slice-of-life things along the way from here to there. After a bit, I started to look at what I was doing as a photographer on vacation differently.

A Street, A Gate. Sicily & Romania, 2022. Photos by Josh S. Rose.

I am really all-in on the Leica M and likely will be for the rest of my existence. I enjoy not hunting for new camera systems. I like having something that works for me. I feel in command of the Leica and the lenses now — which is saying something, because when I first started with that system, I felt completely out of control with it. The learning curve was steep, but switching to a compose/focus-first, shoot-second mentality has changed how I am as a photographer — like learning to hold a tennis racquet differently after playing for twenty years. Ten steps back to take eleven steps forward.

Today, the manual focus and careful compositions are where I start, but also where I end. I give myself a moment to take something in, I get a shot and I move on. It still has a photographer’s stamp on it, I suppose, but it’s not the result of some large search for that shot — the one that might change everything for me or end up in a magazine.

Girl in Romania, 2022. Photo by Josh S. Rose.

Within only a few days, I started looking more closely at where I was at any given time. Being present in the smallness of small villages and hidden alleyways. I followed light and subject more than trying to track down epic images I’d seen in social, or Nat Geo competitions. Even when I borrowed a drone, even though it was fun to fly over some castles, I enjoyed the smaller things more.

Building in Romania, 2022. Photo by Josh S. Rose.

Can’t hold a camera straight — various photos of Italy. Photos by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

Because I was doing less solo photography adventures and more family outings, we ended up in some scenarios that, in fact, were better than the “Hope Diamond images,” for me. An overnight with just my 7-year old out in the forest, watching bears, for example, is one of those once-in-a-lifetime scenarios you won’t see on social media, but will forever be an image I cherish and may not otherwise have gotten.

Bear Watching, Romania, 2022. Photos by Josh S. Rose.

Our trip revolved a lot around beach days, as there was some serious summer heat, so I found myself just kind of enjoying whatever those roads gave me. And after a bit, I came to enjoy these found spots even more than ones I knew were higher-impact right near me, but from the sky or at a better time of day.

Various Taormina. Photos by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

I ended up observing human behavior more because I wasn’t thinking like a landscape photographer.

Beaches of Sicily. Photos by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

And, finally, while I’d love to inundate you with so much dried fruit and stories of visual observations, I just want to say that it all feels like coming home. The photos feel, I don’t know… normal, I think. Not trying so hard. And maybe that’s the way that our photography tends to reflect where we are in life a little bit. It seemed like things came naturally — even the images that seemed more in my “style,” evolved out of spontaneous moments that were unplanned.

Italian Heat. Photos by Josh S. Rose, 2022.

I have a feeling that this will be the kit I travel with for the rest of my life. And it comes with a bit of irony, as it’s not so far off from the same basic kit my grandfather traveled with, too.

I kept having this thought while I was out. I muse in my mind on where things are with photography at any given moment. With the images streaming into our phones from so many directions and all corners of the world, I’m feeling less engaged with higher-impact photos and, really, higher-impact photography hunting. The pleasure of taking them is as fleeting as the pleasure of viewing them — quick hits and feelings that don’t last. And what feels right in these times are the things that AI art and no other photographer can capture… family. The family album and the small personal experiences one has in the midst of intimate moments feel timelessly current right now.

I think all our grandparents would agree.