Behind The Lens
- Sophie Porritt
- Aug 19
- 6 min read
It’s been twenty years since I first set out travelling and picked up a camera. People say words are a window into our inner world - for me, photography serves that same medium.
I’ve travelled alone to some pretty dangerous places in my time, sometimes without realising just how dangerous they were until I was already there - I have a tendency to shoot from the hip and this lack of foresight has landed me in more than a few difficult situations. When I’ve felt overwhelmed or unsure of my place in the world, my camera has been my armour - a way to ground myself and process my surroundings. In many ways, it’s become my mindfulness. Framing a photograph through my camera feels like putting on noise cancelling headphones - it is my hyper-focus. Closer to home, my camera serves as a door into Narnia, allowing me to step through the wardrobe and escape into my imagination.
It started with just a disposable camera, then a point-and-shoot on auto mode. I had no idea how to use a camera properly - at that time, I only wanted to keep a visual record of where I’d been to. But as I travelled more, something shifted. Documenting places wasn’t enough; I wanted to capture the feeling of a moment and the soul of a location. That desire pushed me to buy an entry-level DSLR, which forced me to grapple with the technical side of photography. It made me work harder - I had to learn, to edit, to make up for my lack of formal training. I’m entirely self-taught with no qualifications, but those challenges shaped me into the photographer I am today.
I was recently asked why I haven’t pursued photography as a career, even though I’m very interested in it and quite good at it. I love photography - it gives me another type of voice, one that shows visually how I feel. I fear losing ownership of my creative freedom with prescriptive briefs and limited autonomy over deadlines which for me takes away the actual enjoyment of doing photography.
I’ve worked in all sorts of fields over the years - from farming to pharmaceuticals - but photography was the constant thread holding everything together in my life to give it meaning, and that remains true to this day.
The thought of living a conventional life dictated by society’s expectations has actually always terrified me. I tried to delay the reality of having to face it by travelling much of my late teens and most of my twenties. When I returned from a working holiday in 2012 from New Zealand I knew it was my last big adventure. It wasn’t long until I entered the Mental Health system, marking the start of a very difficult chapter in my life. I think the 610 pages of medical notes that followed could easily be bound together with this entry from 2018 serving as the front cover:
I’d taken the first job I could get on returning to the UK - underwriting in a car insurance company. I have absolutely no interest in cars and hate the telephone, but it paid the bills. They say it takes a few months to settle into a new job to know if it’s for you - I confidently knew within the first 2 hours this wasn’t the one. I ended up staying for over a year and look back angry that I allowed myself to become so deeply unhappy by staying so long. I think in hindsight I felt like I’d be a failure for quitting - that everyone else seemed to find it bearable so I should too. I remember a few months in I had booked some annual leave for a short trip away. When my colleagues asked where I was off to I excitedly told them Chernobyl! Cue blank stares and massive tumbleweed. I’m not sure what they expected me to say - Marbs never really appealed to me.
I eventually quit once I had saved enough money to support myself for a couple of months without any income. I wanted to take that time to step back, reflect, and invest in building a career that actually interested me. After my A-Levels, I had pursued a Psychology degree - much to the disappointment of my English Literature and Graphic Design tutors. I’ve always been very creative, so in hindsight, Graphic Design might have been the better fit. Coming from a middle-class background, with all the expectations that come with it, my opportunities were well intentioned, but they steered me toward a path that never felt entirely my own. I don’t place blame, but I can see now how I ended up choosing Psychology as the more “academic” option. I used to joke that I studied it to work myself out - but beneath the humour was a truth. Still, I genuinely enjoyed the degree.
When travel wasn’t an option for me, I thought the next best thing would be to work within the travel industry. I hoped to transfer the skills I gained from Psychology into Marketing. The creative side of digital media and the constantly evolving world of social platforms fascinated me. I loved the balance of visual and written expression it offered. The only problem was, I had no direct experience.
So, I approached a few companies and was eventually able to secure an internship, moved into an assistant role, progressed to Digital Marketing Executive and stayed there for five years. I learned a huge amount, worked with some wonderful colleagues, and even had the chance to travel to incredible places like Portugal and Colombia. I loved the role and the team, but I struggled with the corporate office environment - the endless meetings that often felt like people justifying their roles, and the competitiveness of the industry.
Over time, the exhaustion caught up with me. For a long while, I masked my struggles with humour and a bottle of wine. Unfortunately, after five years, a combination of exhaustion and ill-fate culminated in me becoming seriously unwell, and I had no choice but to make the decision to step away and focus on my mental wellbeing. The years that followed were incredibly tough - life felt like a constant uphill battle.
Fast forward to now and these days life feels stable in a way it hasn’t for a very long time. I haven’t travelled in years, but I’ve found ways to keep that spirit alive in my everyday life - small moments of exploration, curiosity, and connection woven into the routine. After a few difficult years, I’ve landed in an environment that feels safe, and with that safety has come a calm, grounded and secure sense of self.
The path I walk now isn’t the one that was mapped out for me in my youth. I’ve had to make meaning from the cards I’ve been dealt - to forge purpose and direction where none was guaranteed. I have had to learn a resourcefulness that many from my background will never have to cultivate, and for that, I’m grateful and reminded of my privilege.
I’m back in control of my life again - capturing, creating, and composing both my life and my identity, one shot at a time. For me, work plays a big part in that. I have a role in a company with a healthy culture, where I’m given stability and the freedom to grow. I started here as a negative, a faint outline of who I was, but over time I’ve transformed into a picture I’m proud to see: steady, capable, and whole. I am reminded of who I am.
My workplace has allowed me to shape my own vision for my future there - one that belongs entirely to me. My role keeps me active and I’m trusted to take ownership of my work. I am happy and content. I’ve been there for four years now and with a combination of hard work and good support the role has developed into something that I find meaningful and engaging - I am treated as someone who can contribute in a valuable way.
I don’t earn much, but it’s enough to meet my needs - most importantly, it’s enough to remind me that a life built on safety, trust, and self-worth is worth far more than any pay cheque.
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