Photography taught me something about building products that no business book ever could: the importance of framing.
Seeing vs. looking
Most people look. Few people see. The difference is attention — a willingness to pause and actually notice what's in front of you. Light falling on a wall. The geometry of a staircase. The expression that crosses someone's face for half a second.
A camera doesn't capture reality. It captures a decision: what to include, what to leave out, where to focus. Every photograph is an argument about what matters in a scene.
Framing is everything
In photography, moving two feet to the left can transform a mediocre shot into a great one. The subject doesn't change. The light doesn't change. What changes is the frame — the relationship between elements, the story the composition tells.
Products work the same way. The same feature, presented differently, can feel either essential or bloated. The same technology, framed differently, can feel either magical or confusing. The best product people I know are great framers. They understand that how you present something is inseparable from what it is.
The discipline of constraints
I shoot with a single prime lens most of the time. No zoom. One focal length. It sounds limiting, and it is — that's the point.
Constraints force creativity. When you can't zoom, you move. When you can't change your focal length, you change your perspective. The limitation becomes a tool for seeing differently.
This maps directly to building things. The best work happens inside tight constraints — small teams, limited time, clear scope. Abundance breeds mediocrity. Scarcity breeds invention.
Why I keep shooting
Photography is my way of practicing attention. In a world designed to fragment focus, the act of slowing down and really looking at something feels almost radical.
It makes me better at everything else I do. And it reminds me that the most interesting things are usually right in front of us, hiding in plain sight.