The Photography Career You Want Probably Won't Be Built Overnight

There is a version of success that looks really good on Instagram. The destination weddings. The $30,000 contracts. The stage appearances. The full workshops. The beautiful portfolio filled with exactly the kind of work you want to make.

What we don't see nearly as often are the years underneath it.

That's what I kept thinking about during our conversation with John Bunn. Today, John photographs weddings around the world, books photo and video collections in the tens of thousands of dollars, runs education programs, hosts events, and has built an incredible network throughout the photography industry. It would be easy to look at where he is now and try to reverse engineer the tactic that got him there.

But there wasn't one.

What John described instead was nearly twenty years of relationships, experimentation, uncomfortable decisions, creative growth, business mistakes, generosity, and showing up again. His success didn't come from finding the shortcut. It came from building something strong enough that it didn't need one.

Stop trying to improve the same part of your business

One of the most practical ideas John shared was his belief that photographers need to develop three things: your work, your brand, and your network. The problem is that most of us naturally keep working on the one we're already good at.

Photographers are especially guilty of this with the work. We buy another course, experiment with another editing technique, upgrade another lens, and tell ourselves that if the photographs get just a little better, the business will finally follow. Early in your career, those improvements can create enormous results. John pointed out that the difference between year one and year two might be massive, while the difference between year eighteen and year nineteen could be half a percent.

At some point, another half percent isn't what's keeping you stuck.

You may already be creating incredible photographs, but if nobody knows they exist, that's a brand problem. If people know your name but the right planners, clients, and collaborators aren't recommending you, that's a network problem. If your network is strong but your portfolio no longer represents the level you want to reach, then maybe it really is time to go back to the work.

Growth becomes much easier when you stop automatically improving what's comfortable and start being willing to look at what's actually weak.

Define success before you start chasing it

One of the most important parts of our conversation came when John talked about the kind of weddings he wants to photograph. His ideal isn't simply "luxury." He wants three things to come together: people he genuinely enjoys, compensation that reflects the value of his work, and enough creative trust to make photographs that actually mean something to him.

That sounds obvious until you realize how many photographers have never defined their own version of that trifecta.

We inherit goals from the industry without realizing it. We assume we should want destination weddings, higher prices, bigger publications, more followers, or fewer weddings at a higher average. Then we spend years climbing toward those things without stopping to ask whether they're attached to the life we actually want.

John suggested looking backwards before trying to plan forward. Think about the weddings you've photographed that left you energized. What was true about those couples? Where were you? What was the planner like? How did the clients treat you? What did the timeline feel like? What kind of creative freedom did you have? Then do the same thing with the weddings that made you want to quit.

Patterns start appearing when you get specific.

Maybe your dream isn't photographing thirty destination weddings. Maybe it's photographing eight weddings close to home because your kids are young. Maybe you want to travel constantly. Maybe you care less about the venue and more about working with clients who give you complete creative freedom. There isn't a universally correct answer. The important part is knowing yours.

As John put it, you don't want to spend your career climbing a ladder only to discover it's leaning against the wrong wall.

Build toward the work you want, one decision at a time

Knowing where you want to go doesn't mean you'll immediately start booking it. This is the part of career growth we don't talk about enough.

John told us about photographing a wedding in Italy years ago for very little money. On paper, it wasn't the kind of booking he eventually wanted. But the couple, location, and creative opportunity represented the direction he wanted his business to move, so he treated that wedding as a bridge.

Then he showed it. Again and again.

That wedding helped lead to another destination wedding, which helped lead to another. Years later, he's booking the kind of work he once had to intentionally pursue, except now the clients are paying what he wants, taking him where he wants to go, and trusting him to create.

I love this because it sits somewhere between "know your worth" and "pay your dues." Neither one tells the whole story. Sometimes the smartest decision for your business isn't the one that produces the biggest check today. It's the one that gives you evidence of where you want to go tomorrow.

The important thing is knowing why you're making the sacrifice. Doing cheap work indefinitely isn't a strategy. Intentionally using the right opportunity to reposition your portfolio can be.

Your network isn't a collection of important people

I think this might have been my favorite part of the entire conversation.

John is a connector. He talks about friendship, networking, and community constantly, but his definition of networking feels very different from the transactional version we're used to seeing.

It isn't getting into a room and figuring out who can help your career. It's noticing the person standing quietly in the corner and making sure they have someone to talk to. It's texting a friend privately when they have a win. It's building relationships before you need something. It's having people in your life who will celebrate the $30,000 booking and still make fun of you five minutes later.

That's a network. John traced some of that instinct back to moving repeatedly as a child and constantly being the new kid. He remembers what it felt like to enter rooms where he didn't know anyone, and he built part of his adult life around making sure other people don't feel that way.

I think there's an enormous lesson there for photographers trying to "network."

Stop asking who you need to know and start asking who you can know better.

Real relationships compound in ways networking strategies don't. The planner you genuinely support remembers you. The photographer you encourage becomes a friend. The educator you reach out to without asking for anything might become someone you collaborate with years later. You can't manufacture that kind of network because the value comes from the fact that the relationship existed before the opportunity did.

Let community make you better, not more alike

John also said something I think photographers desperately need to hear. He intentionally surrounds himself with people who are different from him.

He's naturally business minded, so he wants artists around him who remind him to care about the work. He can look at another photographer's use of light and think, "I want to understand that," without deciding he needs to become that photographer.

That's the difference between inspiration and imitation.

The best creative communities don't slowly turn everyone into the same photographer. They expose you to ideas you wouldn't have discovered alone and then give you enough confidence to interpret those ideas through your own taste.

John described it as moving from emulation to elevation. Early on, you may borrow. You study someone's lighting. You try someone's composition. You experiment with a technique you saw someone else use. Over time, though, those influences mix with your experiences, preferences, mistakes, and instincts until they become something that belongs to you.

Your community shouldn't tell you who to become. It should give you enough safety, challenge, and inspiration to discover it yourself.

Put in the reps after you find your direction

Toward the end of the conversation, we talked about identity and the idea of finding your true north. It's a subject our industry loves because it sounds profound. Find your why. Discover your purpose. Know who you are.

But then what?

You work.

That's the less exciting part of the conversation, but it may be the most important.

Once you understand what kind of photographer you want to become, what kind of clients you want to serve, what you want your life to look like, and where your weaknesses are, there isn't a manifestation trick that delivers the rest.

You put in the reps.

You make the photographs. You improve the website. You meet the planner. You send the email. You attend the event. You photograph the wedding that gets you one step closer. You build the friendship. You make another photograph. Then you do it again.

John's career is a great reminder that what looks like sudden momentum from the outside is often the result of years of very unspectacular consistency underneath it. His photography business didn't begin at $25,000 collections. His education platform didn't begin with hundreds of students. His event didn't begin with a hundred people wanting tickets. Each one grew from something much smaller that he kept showing up for.

The goal isn't to look successful. It's to build something solid.

There was something else about John that I appreciated throughout the conversation. He can tell you about a huge booking without making you feel like he's telling you how impressive he is.

There's a difference between confidence built on evidence and confidence built for an audience.

After nearly twenty years, John doesn't need to pretend he's new at this. He knows what he's good at. He also knows what he still needs to learn. In fact, he said the day he believes he knows everything is probably the day his business begins dying.

Maybe that's what experience eventually gives us. Not the disappearance of insecurity, but a better relationship with it.

After nineteen years myself, I don't worry much anymore about whether I can get the photograph. I know I can. My insecurities have simply changed. I wonder whether I'm still relevant, whether I understand younger clients, whether the industry is changing faster than I am. Experience doesn't eliminate those questions. It gives you enough evidence to stop letting them control you.

And maybe that's what a lasting career actually looks like. You know yourself a little better. You build relationships a little deeper. You become a little more intentional about the work you accept. You keep refining the work, brand, and network around the life you're trying to create.

Then one day you look around and realize you're doing the work you wanted, for people you genuinely like, for money that supports the life you've built.

Not because you hacked your way there.

Because you built your way there.

Listen to the full podcast episode HERE

Join Photoco HERE for the guest expert class with John