Seasons of Style

I used to chase a consistent “look.” But maybe style isn’t a signature — it’s a timeline. Like seasons, it changes with mood, light, tools, and taste. The shift doesn’t mean inconsistency. It means you’re alive as an artist.

For a long time, I believed that seriousness came from sameness. A recognizable palette. Familiar subjects. A predictable rhythm. Consistency felt like credibility. If someone scrolled my work, I wanted them to know it was mine without reading a caption. That desire shaped what I shot, what I edited, and sometimes what I avoided altogether.

But over time, I noticed something else: the work I was most proud of rarely came from trying to preserve a look. It came from curiosity. From responding to where I was — emotionally, geographically, creatively. A foggy morning demanded something different than harsh midday light. A new tool invited experimentation. A quieter season in life softened the frames. A playful one loosened the rules.

Style, I’ve learned, is not a logo you protect. It’s a byproduct of attention. When you pay attention to what excites you now, your work changes. And that’s not drift — it’s documentation. Each phase leaves a trace. Together, they form a body of work that feels honest because it reflects growth rather than restraint.

Looking back, I don’t see inconsistency. I see chapters. I see evidence of learning, unlearning, and recalibration. Seasons pass whether we acknowledge them or not. The only real choice is whether we fight them or let them shape the work.

Let it change. Let it surprise you. That’s not losing your style. That’s earning it.