In a refreshingly blunt second that cuts towards one in all images’s most romantic myths, road photographer Matt Stuart argues that expertise doesn’t actually exist in any respect.
Speaking whereas wandering the streets of Amsterdam in a brand new episode of Walkie Talkie produced by Photographer and YouTuber Paulie B, Stuart lays out a philosophy formed by almost three a long time of capturing: nice images aren’t the product of innate genius, however of relentless effort, time on the road, and a good quantity of luck.
It’s a viewpoint that feels virtually heretical in a tradition obsessive about prodigies and in a single day success.
You can watch the complete episode beneath:
The dialog unfolds within the acquainted, free rhythm of Paulie B’s Walkie Talkie collection, which has turn out to be a cult favourite for its unpolished honesty and deep dives into how photographers really assume.
As the 2 stroll previous museums, alleyways, and café-lined squares, Stuart returns many times to the identical thought: the digicam rewards those that present up. If you’re on the market each day, wanting, strolling, paying consideration, you’re merely extra prone to be current when one thing significant occurs.
For Stuart, the concept of “talent” is usually a handy hiding place. He means that labeling photographers as proficient creates a false barrier, implying that some persons are born with entry to nice photographs whereas others are locked out.
In actuality, he says, the distinction is normally time spent capturing, failing, lacking frames, and slowly studying what’s price photographing. The extra hours you set in, the higher your instincts turn out to be, and the extra these instincts begin to seem like expertise from the surface.
That belief is rooted in Stuart’s own experience. Early in his career, he shot obsessively, burning through rolls of film and producing far more bad images than good ones. But those failures weren’t wasted; they were the education.
Over time, his judgment sharpened, his reactions slowed but deepened, and his confidence around people grew. Today, he shoots less but sees more, trusting that patience and familiarity with the street will eventually deliver something worthwhile.
Luck, Stuart admits, still plays a role. You can’t control who steps into the frame or how the light hits a face at the exact right second. But luck favors the prepared and, more importantly, the persistent. Quoting the old line about practice making you luckier, he frames street photography as a numbers game: the more days you’re out there, the more chances you give yourself for something extraordinary to unfold in front of you.
What makes Stuart’s argument resonate is how grounded it feels. There’s no mysticism, no talk of secret vision or special gifts, just the unglamorous reality of walking, watching, and waiting.
In an era when photography is increasingly filtered through algorithms and instant validation, his message lands like a quiet corrective: forget chasing talent. Go outside, put the time in, and let the work—and a little luck—do the rest.