It’s Never Just A Photo

Photo by author - Jewel Singapore

Because we never really know what a moment means to someone.

Jewel quickly became one of Singapore's most popular tourist attractions. Located at Terminal 1 of Changi Airport, it's famous for its giant indoor waterfall surrounded by an urban forest.

So, what's all the fuss about?

Beats me. To me, it's just a giant running tap sitting right in the middle of an indoor forest.

From time to time, I'll head down to Jewel to practise my photography. To be honest, I found it pretty boring at first. There's only so much you can do with a giant waterfall, right? And after a while, everything starts to look the same.

But over the years, this little habit of mine slowly became something more personal.

I think it has something to do with how I've grown as a photographer. Through my commercial work and passion projects, the way I see things has gradually changed. I'm no longer just looking at what's in front of me. I find myself paying more attention to people, their interactions, and the little stories unfolding around them.

Somewhere along the way, I realised something.

A place is just a place. It's the experiences we have there, the people we share it with, and the memories we create that give it meaning. It's where we laugh, cry, fall apart, pick ourselves up, and sometimes, simply feel at home.

photo by author - Jewel Singapore

One day, I noticed a backpacker sitting alone for quite some time. I became curious about what had brought her there, so I approached her for a chat.

I asked her about her day and what she found so fascinating about Jewel's giant waterfall. Was she just passing the time while waiting for her next flight?

Her answer caught me off guard.

"It reminds me of where my grandfather used to take me on hikes, along a magnificent waterfall."

She was far away from home, yet somehow, this place had brought her a little closer to it.

She told me how much she missed her grandfather, who had recently passed away. What I saw as a giant, boring indoor waterfall had brought back memories of someone she loved.

And just like that, Jewel became something more than a tourist attraction.

It made me realise that what I see, hear, or feel about a place can be completely different from someone else's experience of it. We might be standing in exactly the same spot, looking at exactly the same thing, yet seeing something entirely different.

For her, it wasn't just a waterfall. It was a memory of her grandfather.

And I think that's what makes life interesting. We never really know what something means to someone until we take the time to understand their story.

photo by author - Jewel Singapore

Why do we keep going back to the same places?

Sometimes, I wonder why we find ourselves returning to the same places over and over again.

Take me, for example. As I'm writing this, I'm back at my usual spot at a hotel, sitting by the sun-soaked pool.

Funny enough, I had just come from a much more luxurious hotel. And yet, here I am, back at this familiar spot.

Why?

I guess it's because of the memories I've made here and everything this place has come to represent for me.

There was a time when sitting at this very spot meant something completely different. I remember struggling with the thought of returning home to face my problems. I was dealing with family and financial difficulties, and everything felt so overwhelming that I genuinely wondered how I was going to get through it all.

But here I am again.

This time, I feel lighter. Happier, too.

My circumstances have changed, and so have I. The place hasn't necessarily changed, but the person sitting here has.

Looking back, I realise that the memories we build in certain places can become part of who we are. They hold pieces of our lives, reminding us of where we were, what we went through, and how far we've come.

Sometimes, returning to a familiar place feels like receiving a warm hug from an old friend. It reminds us that we've made it through difficult times, or gives us a moment to celebrate how much has changed.

Things take time. And sometimes, you don't realise how far you've come until you find yourself back where you started.

photo by author - Jewel Singapore

It's never just a photo

This is also how I've come to look at my photographs.

A photo of a little girl happily eating an ice cream might seem like an ordinary moment to me. I've probably photographed hundreds of similar moments throughout my career.

But to her mother, that photograph might mean so much more.

Maybe she went through a difficult pregnancy and childbirth, and seeing her daughter enjoying something as simple as an ice cream, without a care in the world, fills her with relief and happiness.

Maybe she's been going through a difficult time in her personal life and hasn't had much time with her daughter lately. Today, she finally gets to slow down and enjoy a little moment together.

Or perhaps it's simply one of those ordinary afternoons she wishes she could hold on to a little longer.

I'll never really know unless she tells me.

And that's the thing about photographs. We see what's happening in the frame, but we don't always know what it means to the people in it.

A photograph doesn't have to look extraordinary to be meaningful. Sometimes, it's the most ordinary moments that become the ones we treasure most.

As photographers, it's easy to forget this.

When you're doing this for a living, certain things inevitably become routine. Another CEO giving a speech. Another bride and groom running across a field. Another family spending time together. Another fierce-looking grandma staring straight into your soul.

Okay, maybe that last one isn't so common.

But you get what I mean.

When you've photographed similar scenes over and over again, it's easy to fall into the habit of seeing them as just another job. You know what to look for, where to stand, and when to press the shutter. You can get so caught up in doing things right that you forget to ask yourself what the moment might actually mean to the people experiencing it.

This is something I constantly have to remind myself of.

I want to approach my photography with compassion, without making assumptions or passing judgement. To look at people with a little more curiosity and a little less certainty.

Even if I've taken a similar photograph a hundred times before, I can still choose to see it differently.

photo by author - Jewel Singapore

I can remind myself that I'm not just photographing a CEO giving a speech, a couple getting married, or a family spending time together. I'm photographing people who have their own lives, struggles, relationships, and reasons to remember these moments.

And I don't have to know their entire story to treat it with care.

Take that CEO who's delivering what might be his 99th speech.

Perhaps today has been a particularly difficult day. Maybe he's dealing with challenges at home, worrying about his family, or carrying the weight of running a business. Maybe he's simply tired.

His smile seems a little different today.

Of course, my client might need photographs of him smiling. But I can't force someone to smile just because that's what the brief calls for.

What I can do is pay attention.

I can wait quietly at a corner, keep my camera ready, and give him the space to be himself. Maybe a genuine smile will appear. Maybe it won't.

Either way, he's a person before he's a subject in my photographs.

And I think that's worth remembering.

Because sometimes, the best thing I can do as a photographer isn't to make someone look good. It's to see them as they are, give them a little room to breathe, and be ready when a moment worth remembering happens.

So, the next time I find myself photographing something I've photographed a hundred times before, I hope I remember to pause for a moment.

To look a little closer.

To be a little more patient.

And to remind myself that there's always more to a person than what I see through my viewfinder.

I've got you, Mr CEO.

I've got you.

Thanks for reading!