Mark Waddington

Category: Uncategorized

  • Reflections on Judging a Camera Club Competition

    Reflections on Judging a Camera Club Competition



    Last night I had the pleasure of judging at a local camera club, and I came away with several reflections I’d like to share.

    First, the club itself deserves real credit. It is friendly, welcoming, and clearly growing in membership. There is a wide range of ages and photographic interests represented, and it stands out as one of the most welcoming clubs I’ve judged at. It appears well organised, and the competition entries showed a broad spectrum of experience and ability. But drawing from my experiences over the last year of so …

    The Confidence Question

    One story I hear again and again when visiting clubs is that competitions tend to be dominated by a small core of regular winners. Those with less confidence often hesitate to enter at all.

    Confidence is a real issue. Competitions can, unintentionally, become divisive. They can create a perceived hierarchy — a sense that some members are “better” than others. This can become self-fulfilling: the confident members grow stronger and more assured, while the less confident gradually withdraw.

    That is not healthy for any creative community.

    The Double-Edged Nature of Competition

    I have genuinely enjoyed judging competitions over the last year or so. In fact, it has improved my own photography. Being required to articulate what makes a strong image forces clarity of thought. And when I cannot define precisely why an image works, I’ve learned to relax into that mystery rather than cling rigidly to rules.

    Competitions are, in many ways, a double-edged sword.

    On the positive side:

    • They encourage participation.
    • They stimulate engagement with club activities.
    • Judging can promote technical learning and progress.

    But we must also be aware that the very mechanisms that make competitions effective can, if unchecked, become corrosive.

    When Photography Becomes a Sport

    In some instances, club photography begins to resemble a sport. League tables, points systems, and rankings can feel uncomfortable. Elevating particular individuals to near-celebrity status may satisfy some egos, but it risks distorting the purpose of the club.

    Judging outcomes are inevitably limited. They are shaped by:

    • The subjective views of the judge.
    • A relatively narrow set of criteria designed to ensure fairness.

    Ironically, those criteria can sometimes reduce photography to a prescriptive formula — encouraging rule-following over artistic exploration.

    That said, I do not wish to be overly negative. For many members, the competitive element is exciting, stimulating, and rewarding. It adds energy and focus.

    But we must remain mindful of those who feel excluded by it.

    Risk-Takers and Rule-Followers

    Over the years, I have seen many innovative and creative photographers willing to experiment and take risks. They produce unusual, sometimes challenging work. If that work is dismissed because of technical “imperfections,” those individuals may feel discouraged.

    This creates two broad tendencies:

    • Those who conform to established rules and feel rewarded.
    • Those who experiment and feel undervalued.

    Of course, this is a generalisation. Reality is more nuanced. But the risk is real enough that we should be alert to it.

    Returning to Founding Values

    Camera clubs and photographic societies would benefit from revisiting their founding values.

    If a club genuinely aims to be open and to encourage photographic progress — not just personal achievement, but the development of photography itself — then it must embrace a wide range of approaches, styles, and philosophies.

    Photography has transformed radically since its inception, particularly in recent years with digital techniques and artificial intelligence. We cannot afford to judge as though we are still in the Victorian era.

    Creating Space for Creative Flourishing

    The priority, as I see it, is to create an environment in which creative people can flourish — and be rewarded for taking risks and breaking the mould.

    Photography should not stand still as an art form. Nor should our personal practice become stagnant. We want to feel the breeze of constant freshness moving through our work — an ongoing excitement about how photography can evolve and be deployed in new ways.

    A Thoughtful Way Forward

    In conclusion, camera clubs might consider:

    • Revisiting and updating their core values.
    • Reflecting carefully on how competitions are structured.
    • Designing categories and themes that are open enough to encourage surprise and originality.
    • Ensuring participation is as wide and inclusive as possible.

    Competitions can remain an important and vibrant part of club life — but only if they serve creativity rather than constrain it.

    If we get that balance right, camera clubs will not only nurture skilled photographers — they will nurture brave ones.

  • The Hidden Power of Amateur Photography.

    The Hidden Power of Amateur Photography.


    Amateur photography has often been characterised as an activity preoccupied with beauty. Susan Sontag, in On Photography, draws a distinction between photographs that console or please and those that interrogate or unsettle. Within amateur photographic culture, this emphasis on the “pretty picture” is undeniable. The creation of a visually pleasing image is widely regarded as a primary measure of success, reinforced through competitions, exhibitions, and club culture.


    By contrast, within the art world, individual images are rarely judged in isolation. Greater value is often placed on a coherent body of work—an exhibition or long-term project that articulates a sustained idea or enquiry. Such bodies of work situate photographs within a broader life context, allowing meaning to accumulate over time. The photographer’s oeuvre, rather than the single image, becomes the primary site of interpretation.


    Amateur photographers, however, tend to focus on refining individual images rather than developing long-term projects. The notion of a consistent body of work, formed slowly and organically, often appears less relevant or less attainable. Yet this difference may point not to a limitation, but to a largely overlooked strength.


    The value of amateur photography may be significantly underestimated when considered collectively rather than individually. While individual images may not always announce themselves as “important,” the photographs produced by amateurs within any given year—across towns, villages, and neighbourhoods—can together form an extraordinarily intimate portrait of local life. These images are frequently made casually, without institutional pressure or professional expectation. Precisely because of this, they may be less contrived and more authentic than much professional work.


    This suggests a need to reassess the cultural value of amateur photographers, including those working within camera clubs. Far from being a secondary or preparatory tier of photographic practice, amateur photography represents a vast and largely untapped seam of creativity. Its contribution lies not in competing with professional photography on professional terms, but in offering something fundamentally different.


    The question, then, is how individual photographers—particularly those in organised amateur groups—might respond to this idea. How might they adopt a level of confidence that moves beyond the limitations implied by the term “amateur”? Rather than viewing amateur photographers as lesser practitioners, it may be more accurate to recognise them as photographers with unique access: to everyday life, to personal relationships, and to communities that are often closed to outsiders. Their work is typically less agenda-driven, less shaped by markets, commissions, or institutional expectations.


    As the technical quality of amateur photography continues to rise—driven by increasingly sophisticated and accessible technology—there is a corresponding responsibility for those leading amateur groups to shift the emphasis of practice. Technical mastery alone is no longer enough. Greater encouragement should be given to storytelling, to personal significance, and to the sustained observation of familiar environments.


    Too often, amateur photographers are drawn towards photographic tours, workshops, and so-called “honeypot” locations, implicitly reinforcing a sense that meaningful photography happens elsewhere. This may stem from a perceived inferiority, leading amateurs to mimic professional styles and subjects in the hope of producing work of greater value.


    Yet it may be possible—and necessary—to reverse this logic. Amateur photographers, unconstrained by clients, deadlines, or the need to earn a living, are uniquely positioned to produce genuinely original and potentially groundbreaking work. Their access to private spaces, long-term relationships, and local narratives allows for insights into lived experience that are frequently unavailable to professionals.


    This raises a provocative proposition for camera clubs and amateur communities: that photographers working at a local level might be elevated to a status that, in certain respects, surpasses that of many professional photographers. Not because they are more skilled, but because they are freer—and because their collective work has the power to articulate rich, nuanced, and deeply human accounts of contemporary life.