The title of this article has nothing to do with the Oasis hit of 1996 or the 1956 John Osborne play. The reason why I chose it is more complex and perhaps less obvious. My reason is based upon a reflection of age, the passing of time and the view we all have in our personal rear-view mirrors. If you have yet to take this look, then please excuse yourself from my musings if you wish. However, I suggest that what is to follow, may encourage you to take your own look sooner than you expected.
I often state, and I am not alone in this, that my camera is a key to doors that would have remained locked to me in life. If I had not been involved with photography, I would not have been to the places I have been or met the people I have met. I was a boy from South London, with no connections. My naivity was my super power, as I had no understanding of failure, no realisation of how difficult things can be and little experience of success. Despite this I did okay, however, now I can see how quickly the experiences I had have passed.
I do not look back at my career with any sense of regret or anger. Even when considering the inevitable downs of a creative life. I don’t only focus on the ups, but I am stoic in my sense of reflection. I have always felt that this is essential, if you are in a creative career for the long haul.
The inevitability of such a career, is that you will hopefully have periods of recognition and success, alongside those of being ignored and fallow periods. I often use music as a metaphor for photography and I am going to use it again here. Every musician, singer and band has the opportunity of their ‘time in the sun’. Luck and talent play their part in this and the sun can shine brighter for some than others. It could be ‘one-hit’ success, or a series of albums and concerts. The length and size of the success doesn’t really matter. The fact that it happened at all, is the important factor. In music you have a descision to make. Do you continue replaying that moment of success throughout your life, to ever decreasing audience sizes, by playing the songs that bought that success. Or do you evolve, or step away.
I see similarities in this situation with photography. The editorial environment always welcomed both new and established photographers, providing them with a good living. You could say the same of music photographers and those creating below and above the line advertising images. However, the ‘golden age’ of commissioned photography is over, and those who experienced it have had to accept that fact. I count myself in that cohort.
Such acceptance is not easy. Particularly when a loss of income is connected with the change. Photographers then have a similar set of choices as the musician. To keep trying to recreate the past, to reinvent to remain relevant or to step away. Each option presents there own challenges.
You can attempt to continue a commissioned practice based on the past and if you have an established client base, that is not looking for the latest or newest thing, it can work. You may have to accept that you are no longer at the cutting edge, but that is to be expected as you get older. The bigger issue is that many of the commissiers that your practice was based upon no longer exist. Experienced art directors, picture editors and art buyers are rare today, in an environment that is unwilling to pay salaries that such experience deserves. Add to this the drop in commissioning budgets and it is easy to see why it is not a good idea, to cling to old business practices.
Re-inventing yourself and your practice is also not easy, but it is possible. It requires a considerable amount of self-reflection and honesty. But is it a good idea? Well, I think for those to whom tangental thinking comes naturally, it can be. It may require more collaboration than you are used to, the adoption of new ways of working and possibly the reduction in the importance of photography in your practice. A willingness to take risks and make mistakes is also important.
Walking away is no easier than the previous two options I have outlined here. It is a decision that should not be under-estimated in its impact on mental wellbeing and relationships. I have spoken to many photographers who have bravely faced this option. Some have decided to follow through on leaving photography entirely, others have made the decision more gradually. Either way this is a difficult, but for some inevitable, stage in a career that needs to be faced.
It is perhaps this last option that creates the most anger and resentment amongst photographers. A feeling that they have been let down by the industry, or rejected for no good reason. The truth is that they haven’t changed, the world has changed and they just haven’t or been able to change with it. That is not a criticism from my perspective, merely an observation. I believe that the most important response to such a situation is to appreciate the good times and not be angry about the fact that they are no longer happening for you. It would be easy for me to still live in the 90s in my mind and people often ask me if I miss my days art directing for Condé Nast in Vogue House. My answer is always no! I enjoyed that time, but I also enjoy this time. I am living in the present and responding to new situations with the same enthusiasm I have always had for any challenge.
This to me seems to be a reasonable and positive approach to all aspects of life. I hope you agree. If you do, then my suggestion is to adopt this approach to your photographic career. This is not a suggestion based on condescension, but one based on conversations I have had with photographers struggling with the past and what the future may hold. There is no one answer that fits all situations. Life is too nuanced for that. However, blind anger is always destructive and negative. It will not change the systems that every professional photographer is impacted by.
My suggestion is to attempt to accept and work with those systems and their results. To be open to wherever they may take you. Not to look back with anger, but to look forward with positivity. I know John Lydon sang that anger is an energy, but in this case it is not an energy you need.
Dr.Grant Scott
After fifteen years art directing photography books and magazines such as Elle and Tatler, Scott began to work as a photographer for a number of advertising and editorial clients in 2000. Alongside his photographic career Scott has art directed numerous advertising campaigns, worked as a creative director at Sotheby’s, art directed foto8 magazine, founded his own photographic gallery, edited Professional Photographer magazine and launched his own title for photographers and filmmakers Hungry Eye. He founded the United Nations of Photography in 2012, and is now a Senior Lecturer and Subject Co-ordinator: Photography at Oxford Brookes University, Oxford, and a BBC Radio contributor. Scott is the author of Professional Photography: The New Global Landscape Explained (Routledge 2014), The Essential Student Guide to Professional Photography (Routledge 2015), New Ways of Seeing: The Democratic Language of Photography (Routledge 2019), What Does Photography Mean To You? (Bluecoat Press 2020) and Inside Vogue House: One building, seven magazines, sixty years of stories, (Orphans Publishing 2024). His photography has been published in At Home With The Makers of Style (Thames & Hudson 2006) and Crash Happy: A Night at The Bangers (Cafe Royal Books 2012). His film Do Not Bend: The Photographic Life of Bill Jay was premiered in 2018.
© Grant Scott 2026
Image: Original stage play, Don’t Look Back in Anger, Charles Hewitt.





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