Ben Lehmann

At 32, life as a photographer in Berlin, Germany was both exhilarating and demanding. Every day brought new challenges, new perspectives to capture, and new faces to immortalize through my lens.

But amidst the hustle and bustle of the city, there was a constant struggle to find balance. Balancing passion with practicality, artistry with earning a living, and the relentless pursuit of perfection with the acceptance of imperfection.

One particular project consumed me entirely. It was a deeply personal exploration of identity, a series of portraits capturing the essence of Berlin's diverse inhabitants. Each subject revealed a story, a fragment of their life etched into the lines of their face or the sparkle in their eyes.

However, the more immersed I became in my work, the more I drifted from the people around me. Friends faded into the background, relationships strained under the weight of my dedication to my craft. I found solace in solitude, seeking refuge in the quiet moments between shots.

Then, one fateful evening, as I was packing up my gear after a long day of shooting, I received a call that shattered my carefully constructed world. It was news of a sudden illness striking someone dear to me, someone I had neglected in my single-minded pursuit of photography.

In that moment, the camera felt heavy in my hands, a burden rather than a tool of expression. I realized I had sacrificed too much in the name of my art, neglecting the very connections that gave meaning to my work.

From that day forward, I resolved to strike a new balance. To cherish my relationships as much as my photographs, to find inspiration not just in the faces of strangers, but in the warmth of human connection.

Life as a photographer in Berlin would always be a delicate dance between passion and pragmatism. But now, armed with the wisdom of experience, I faced each day with renewed purpose, seeking beauty not just through my lens, but in the richness of life itself.