To mark six years of writing for Terra Quantum, I was asked to dedicate my latest photography talk to myself – a daunting prospect, as I am simply not used to taking centre stage. My contributions to this wonderful platform pale beside the tireless work of Samuel Feron, co-founder and editor-in-chief of Terra Quantum. Still, here is my story, humbly offered in the hope it carries a little of the inspiration I draw from photography.
My fascination with photography began in childhood. As my passion grew, I found myself drawn to the natural world. Over time, the ocean became a constant companion in my work. Its ever-changing moods and quiet power continue to inspire me whenever I stand by the shore.
I learned photography in the days of film, when every frame mattered. These days, I work exclusively with digital cameras. I have never felt the need to chase the latest technology, though I appreciate the remarkable possibilities modern equipment offers. Even so, I still long for the simplicity and honesty of film.
On my desk sits an old Leica camera from the 1930s. It belonged to my father and is probably beyond repair. Yet I hope that one day it might be mended, so I can use it again, imperfections and all. Those flaws would reveal not only the world as it truly is, but something deeply human: my vulnerability, and whatever it is that makes my soul sing. Perfection, I am happy to leave to artificial intelligence.
Throughout my career, I have learned that creativity cannot be prescribed. Every photographer finds inspiration differently and develops a unique way of seeing. Yet we all share one purpose: to keep growing. That is why I encourage photographers to revisit their older images from time to time. If you see how much your photography has changed, don't criticise the person you were, celebrate! Those photographs are proof that you have learned and evolved.
My own interests have shifted over the years. My attention has moved from sweeping vistas to quieter details. Curiously, as my subjects have become smaller, my lenses have become longer, allowing me to isolate distant fragments of the landscape and reveal patterns and textures often missed with a wider perspective.
Looking back, I feel incredibly fortunate. Collaborating with various publishers has led to seven books, something I could scarcely have imagined as a child. But those books are not my greatest achievement. My greatest privilege is much simpler: photography still makes me happy. It continues to sharpen my senses and reveal the extraordinary beauty hidden within ordinary moments. That, more than any publication or award, is photography's greatest gift.
I hope photography enriches your life too, and far beyond anything you might expect.
Beata Moore
Discover. Experience. Create.
