Oubaitori and the way I grew

I didn’t begin photography with a plan or a direction; I simply followed what felt natural, not realising I was already walking a path that was entirely my own.

Before I knew what I was doing

In 2011, a friend handed me her camera and encouraged me to take a few photographs. That moment stayed with me. I photographed whatever caught my attention—random scenes, passing moments, fragments of everyday life. Some images had intention, most did not. But after a few frames, I realised that I want to keep photographing. Not because I had a plan, but because I felt drawn to the act itself. I did not think of it as a hobby, a passion, or a profession. It was simply something I kept returning to.

Over time, that curiosity began to grow. A decade later, when I was introduced to film photography, I approached it with the same interest. It felt different from the beginning. The process required attention and asked me to slow down, to understand light, to make decisions with care. Medium format and large format became more than formats. They became ways of engaging with the image.

Learning through influence

I learned photography with intent because I felt connected to it. At the same time, I was influenced by many people. I followed role models, drew inspiration from established photographers, and absorbed advice and guidance from different directions. There was a visible structure to learning photography, a path that many young photographers seemed to take.

And I followed that path. I began setting benchmarks for myself. I compared my work with others. I tried to understand what worked, what stood out, and what was appreciated. In doing so, I also began to imitate, consciously or unconsciously. At some point, I paused. Not because something was wrong, but because I wanted to understand what I was doing, so I stepped back and began to connect the dots.

Why was I drawn to certain images? Why did I return to black and white? Why did certain processes hold my attention longer than others? Also read: The beauty of imperfection: Wabi-sabi in photography

Finding form in black and white and choosing my own way thereafter

In 2017, I set a clear preference for capturing my images in black and white. It resonated with me in a way that colour did not. I found myself drawn to fewer visual cues, allowing the image to remain open for interpretation.

My images were no longer bound by what they showed. They became open to the senses, open to interpretation, shaped by a subjective view rather than a fixed meaning. I began to see photography as an original creation, so I stopped comparing. Not abruptly, but gradually. I allowed myself to step away from benchmarks that were not my own. I began to trust what I was drawn to, even if it did not align with what I was seeing around me. Years later, in 2024, I decided to move deeper into film photography, working with both medium and large format. I was drawn to the depth it offered and the way it carried a timeless quality. Each film type responded differently, with its own grain structure and tonal character. That variation added a layer to the image that felt personal and distinct. It gave me a sense of direction that did not depend on comparison.

From there, in 2025, I moved further into alternative printing processes. The act of creating a print by hand changed the way I related to the image. It required time, attention, and patience. Each step mattered. Each outcome carried variation. The process was methodical, yet simple enough to allow interpretation.

It was no longer just about making photographs. It was about crafting them. I found myself wanting to stay with that process, to understand it more deeply, to make it my own.

Discovering Oubaitori and recognising my own path

At one point, when I looked back, I felt a strong sense of familiarity with the Japanese concept of Oubaitori, which led me to explore it further and reflect on how my journey related to it.

Oubaitori describes a simple idea that individuals should not compare themselves to others, but instead grow and unfold in their own way. It draws from nature, where different trees bloom at different times, each following its own rhythm, without competition. It also speaks about recognising one’s own strengths and qualities, without the pressure to conform or measure against others.

I instantly felt connected towards the topic. It felt like I was recognising something I had already been doing. I realised that, over time, I had moved away from comparison. Not as a rule, but as a natural outcome of following what I was drawn to.

Looking back, I could see where I had once compared, where I had measured my work against others, and where I had tried to align with external expectations, and I could also see where that had changed. The path I follow now feels different; it is shaped by my interest in fine art photography. By my connection to analog processes. By my involvement in printing as a craft.

It is structured, but it is mine.

Oubaitori, to me, is not something I consciously practice. It is something that became visible only after I had already begun to move in that direction. It gave me a way to understand that growth does not need to be compared. Those timelines do not need to match. The value of what I create does not depend on how it stands next to something else.

In photography, this has allowed me to work without the need to follow a trend, without the need to arrive at a certain point within a given time. All of it is part of the process.

A continuing path 

When I look at my journey now, I do not see a linear progression. I see a series of decisions that led me closer to what felt right. Oubaitori helped me recognise that, not as a philosophy to apply, but as a reflection of how I had already begun to grow. And in that recognition, I found the space to continue, without comparison, and without the need to follow anything other than my own way of seeing. Check out my Instagram for more work - @karthik.samprathi

Check out my YouTube for more long-format work - @karthiksamprathi