I used to photograph with headphones more often than I care to admit. It wasn’t about blocking the world out. Music helped set the mood that matched whatever I was looking for. If the weather felt heavy, I chose something more contemplative. If I were chasing something more cinematic, I would pick something that carried the same feeling. It worked as a private soundtrack, running alongside whatever I was seeing.
Music affects almost everything. Pace, mood, noticing. It doesn’t make me more open, but it colours whatever I’m paying attention to. Sometimes it does it too well. I’ve taken photographs that existed more in the song than in the moment. Frames I thought were meaningful, only to look at them and understand the music had done the heavy lifting.
There are times when the headphones come off without much thought, usually in the city. You walk around, feeling out of sync, as if something is happening nearby, but you’re missing the signal. Taking the headphones off fixes that more often than not. Footsteps, traffic, small conversations in the background, all the things that pull you back into the rhythm of a place. Cues that help you pay attention rather than invent the scene through whatever you’re listening to.
Assignments choose for you. You don’t wear headphones when other people depend on you, or when you need to respond quickly. And in wildlife or conservation work, tuning out isn’t an option. You need to hear everything: warnings, requests, the small sounds animals make that tell you much more than the right mood would. Headphones would make that work careless.
The same goes for documentary work with people. But actually, documentary work in general. Anything that requires connection. You can’t build any kind of honest understanding if you’re only half in the moment. People feel that distance immediately. The interaction becomes thinner. The work does too.
I rarely use headphones while photographing now. Not because I stopped enjoying it, but because it pulls me out of the world more than it pulls me into a world of my own. Music works beautifully when editing or writing, or assembling video, places where focus benefits from insulation. But in the field, insulation keeps me from noticing what matters.
Silence, or something close to it, is more useful. Not because the world is quiet, but because being open to sound means hearing the silence, the noise, and whatever signals exist between the two. If I knew the world would stay quiet, I might choose music to control the mood. But the world doesn’t stay quiet. You need to hear the interruptions. You need to listen to the thing you’re trying to photograph.
Now I keep the headphones for studios and still lives, as well as anything that happens inside controlled walls. Out in the world, I’d rather listen to whatever is already there. It makes the work feel more honest. And it keeps me from mistaking a good song for a good photograph.
