The MOOD Podcast

Rediscovering Meaning in a World of Images - Moments of Mood, 2.0

Matt Jacob

“When Was the Last Time a Photo Meant Something to You?”

What if photography wasn’t just about what you see — but about what you feel?

In this episode of Moments of Mood - each episode now released every other week in between guest episodes - I share a deeply personal story that reshaped the way I saw photography forever. 

What this short episode covers:

  • The difference between photos that look good and photos that mean something, and whether that's even important
  • A life-changing moment with a young girl in Uganda
  • Why the context around the frame matters as much as the frame itself
  • How to shoot with deeper intention and connection
  • A powerful challenge to rekindle your photographic voice

Take the challenge:

In the next 48 hours, take one photo that matters to you — and reflect on why. That’s how we shift from taking pictures to creating something that truly lasts.

Message me, leave a comment and join in the conversation!

Thank you for listening and for being a part of this incredible community. You can also watch this episode on my YouTube channel (link below) where I also share insights, photography tips and behind-the-scenes content on my channel as well as my social media, so make sure to follow me on Instagram, Twitter, Threads and TikTok or check out my website for my complete portfolio of work.

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Speaker 1:

What if I told you that photography is one of the last universal languages we have, that an image captured in a fraction of a second can say something no words ever could. And yet most of us don't actually see it that way. We take more photos than ever before, but somehow we feel less connected to them. We fire off shots without thinking, post them into the void of social media and then move on, barely looking back. When was the last time you took a photo that actually meant something to you? Not just because it looked good, but because it felt good, because it had weight, because even without words, it had something to say. Somewhere along the way, photography became less about connection and more about consumption. We scroll past thousands of images every week, barely registering them before they disappear. We shoot for algorithms, for trends, for what we think will do well online, but in doing so we've lost something. We've lost that raw human element. Think about a time when a photograph stopped you in your tracks. Maybe it was an old photo of a grandparent when they were young, a grainy black and white image With so much presence it felt like they were still in the room. Or maybe it was a photo from a war zone, an image that showed you something real, something that made you feel like you were there. Those images weren't just technically good, if at all. They held context, they gave you a reason to care. But most of us, we aren't thinking about that when we shoot. We're thinking about light, exposure, composition. We're thinking, does this look good instead of does this mean anything? And the truth is, if we want to create powerful images, images that actually matter, we have to shift the way we think about photography.

Speaker 1:

I didn't always think this way. Early on, I shot without purpose. I would just take photos because I was learning and I could, without knowing what I was really looking for. There was a kind of freedom in that, sure, but also a feeling that something was missing. And then something clicked. I didn't really know at the time and it wasn't necessarily a light bulb moment. So I'm sorry for those of you hoping there's a simple and quick answer for all of this, or a clear moment of clarity.

Speaker 1:

It happened in Uganda when I was a beginner many years ago. I was traveling alone there to see gorillas and immerse myself in the local culture. At that point I had been a hobbyist for a few years and had dabbled in different genres but knew now that culture, travel and human interest, photography was really what I was most interested in and challenged by. So, after seeing the gorillas of Burundi which, by the way, was pretty immense I gave myself a few days of just wandering through the local areas with my camera and light in hand, not really knowing what I was doing. Obviously this was a bit of a sight, a big white guy with some expensive technology in hand, but I never felt worried or threatened at all. Everyone I met was deeply welcoming, albeit curious, and eventually I realized a guide would be best to walk around with me so they could translate, but likely the guide would also know a lot of local people, and that he did. This allowed me a way in, and before I knew it I was in a village house sitting around, talking and sharing bananas and coffee.

Speaker 1:

Word spread and as time went by I asked if I could take some photos of the children and of the family members that had gathered around. I was in my element, knew nothing about how to take portraits or set up a kind of moving or impactful shot, but I was having a great time and after some fun taking photos and playing around, one shy girl who had been quiet in the corner showed interest and I asked if I could take a photo. She interested me. She was also beautiful and so innocent, and she was holding a branch from a banana tree full of green leaves, and the color matched her torn and dirty green dress. I smiled, got her in position and, within seconds, had her gazing at my lens, and the moment was just there. It gives me goosebumps now, and in that moment I realized something. It wasn't about the photo. It wasn't even about her as a subject. It was about us. The camera became a bridge, a reason for us to stand together to share a moment, despite not speaking the same language and coming at it from completely different perspectives. It was the act of photography itself that created the connection. When I finally took the shot, it wasn't just an image of a girl in a green dress. It was a reminder that photography isn't just about what's in the frame. It's about everything happening around it, and because of that I'll always remember it.

Speaker 1:

Some of the most powerful images in history aren't technically perfect. Often the lighting is wrong, the focus is off, sometimes they're even blurry, quite deliberately, but they still hit you in the chest because they contain something real. When we talk about great photography, we don't talk about sharpness or megapixels. Has anyone? We talk about what the image tells us about the world and about the artist. We talk about context where it was taken, why it was taken, what moment it captured that would otherwise have been lost, and that's what's missing, I feel, from a lot of photography today.

Speaker 1:

We focus on aesthetics, which is fine, but forget about substance. But you don't have to shoot war zones or political uprisings to create meaning. Of course, you just have to be more intentional about what you're capturing. If you photograph street scenes, for example, don't just take a photo of a guy sitting on a bench. Look for the details that tell you about something about his world. The half-eaten sandwich next to him, the newspaper he's reading People read newspapers these days the worn-down shoes that tell a story of miles walked. These elements matter. They anchor the image in reality.

Speaker 1:

If you shoot portraits, don't just focus on someone's face. What's in the background, what's in their hands? Are they holding onto a necklace that a family member gave them? Are they sitting in a place that means something to them? If it's traditional portraits in a studio even, are they at ease? Do they feel like they can be themselves? Are they having fun? Every experiential nuance adds another layer of meaning, context and, of course, authenticity.

Speaker 1:

I'll be honest sometimes I lose the way to see. If I don't shoot for a while, I start to feel disconnected from photography. I'll look at my camera and think what's the point? And the only way to fix this is to actually force myself to start seeing again. Light is always my savior. I'll go out without the intention of taking a great shot, just to watch and observe. I'll see how the light hits a wall, how shadows fall across the street, how light interplays with the world around and within it, how people interact in everyday life, and slowly my mind starts to wake up again.

Speaker 1:

So if you've ever felt like your photography is missing something, this might be the fix to stop focus on taking photos and try and start focusing on noticing things again. So here's my challenge to you In the next 48 hours, take one photo that doesn't just look good but means something to you. Maybe it's a person who's important to you, maybe it's a place that you love, maybe it's just a small moment in your day that you would have otherwise forgotten. But whatever it is, make sure it has context, make sure it has a reason to exist, make sure it means something to you. And when you've taken it, don't just post it. Write about why it matters, Because if you can articulate what makes a photo meaningful, you'll start to see photography in a completely new way. That's how we bring connection back into our craft. That's how we move beyond just taking pictures and start creating something that lasts. Happy shooting.

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