Support Creatives, One Credit at a Time

Support Creatives, One Credit at a Time

We live in a visual world—scrolling, liking, sharing, and re-posting images at breakneck speed. But behind every photo is a human being: someone who noticed the light, framed the scene, adjusted settings, waited for the right moment, and poured both heart and skill into capturing it. Too often, that photographer’s name gets left behind.

Crediting a photographer isn’t just a nice gesture—it’s a meaningful act that supports creativity, protects rights, and builds a more respectful and sustainable creative industry. Photography—especially when done professionally—is an art form. Just like you wouldn’t quote a writer or share an artist’s work without acknowledgment, photos deserve the same courtesy. Crediting a photographer honours not just the final image, but the time, training, and vision behind it. It’s an act of respect for the human effort that made the photo possible.¹

There’s also a legal dimension. Under Canadian and international copyright law, photographs are automatically protected the moment they’re created.² While giving credit isn’t a substitute for getting permission (that’s a separate step), failing to attribute a photo can blur the lines of ownership—and in some cases, even amount to a violation of copyright.³ Even if you hire a professional photographer for a wedding, event, or portrait session, they still retain copyright and the moral right to be credited—unless a written contract explicitly states otherwise.⁴

Crediting doesn’t just protect—it promotes. In a digital landscape where visibility is currency, a simple tag or mention can lead to real opportunities. From landing new clients, to being discovered by publications, to expanding networks, photographers often rely on credited work to grow their business. That @mention might feel small, but it could be the spark that leads to their next big gig.⁵

It also builds a healthier creative ecosystem. Recognizing the people behind the images fosters a culture of respect and appreciation. Photographers feel valued, seen, and motivated to keep creating. This is especially true in niche communities—like equestrian photography—where word-of-mouth, tags, and online presence can make or break a photographer’s livelihood.

In a world where images are endlessly saved, shared, and manipulated, attaching the photographer’s name provides clarity. It establishes the photo’s origin, reduces confusion about ownership, and prevents misrepresentation.⁶ When individuals, brands, and businesses consistently credit photographers, they set a professional standard. It shows they take content creation seriously and operate with integrity.⁷

As AI tools and filters become more accessible, the line between original and altered work grows blurrier. Proper credit helps maintain a traceable link to the original creator, ensuring their work isn’t distorted, taken out of context, or erased.⁸

The next time you share an image—whether from a portrait session, a horse show, or a styled shoot—take a moment to add credit. It’s as simple as:

📸 Birgit Berghofer – Equine Images
or
Photo by @bb.equine.photo

A few words make a big difference. They say, “I see you. Your work matters.”

So let’s keep the credit flowing. Have you ever forgotten to credit a photo, or been surprised to learn how important it is? What do you think is the best way to raise awareness about attribution online? Share your thoughts in the comments—or tag someone whose work you admire and want to shout out.


  1. American Society of Media Photographers. (n.d.). Why You Should Always Credit a Photographer. Retrieved from asmp.org
  2. Government of Canada. (2021). A guide to copyright. Retrieved from ised-isde.canada.ca
  3. World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO). (2020). Copyright Basics. Retrieved from wipo.int
  4. PhotoShelter. (2019). The Importance of Photo Credits. Retrieved from photoshelter.com
  5. Arts Law Centre of Australia. (2022). Moral Rights and Attribution. Retrieved from artslaw.com.au
  6. PetaPixel. (2017). The Etiquette of Giving Credit Where It’s Due. Retrieved from petapixel.com
  7. NPPA (National Press Photographers Association). (2021). Best Practices for Image Attribution in the Digital Age. Retrieved from nppa.org
  8. Adapted from industry commentary on copyright and AI ethics
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Gatekeeping in Photography: When Passion Meets Pushback

Gatekeeping in Photography: When Passion Meets Pushback

Let’s talk about something that quietly shapes our industry in powerful, and sometimes harmful, ways: gatekeeping in photography.

At its heart, photography is about storytelling. It’s about capturing emotion, preserving fleeting moments, and offering the world a glimpse through your unique lens. And here’s the truth: the best camera will always be the one you have with you. Technical knowledge and expensive gear help, but they don’t define a great photograph. Creativity, effort, and connection do.

Yet even with the increasing accessibility of photography, thanks to smartphones, social media, and digital tools, there’s a persistent culture of gatekeeping, especially in more traditional or niche spaces like equine photography.

There’s an important distinction to make, though. Gatekeeping doesn’t mean setting professional boundaries. It’s not gatekeeping to decline unpaid work, protect your intellectual property, or offer constructive feedback when someone asks for it. Honest critique is part of growth, and not every image is above improvement. But when feedback becomes condescension—or when it’s unsolicited and delivered in a way that shames others for starting small or daring to try—that’s gatekeeping.

To be clear, I’m not talking about photographers who show up to events, shoot half the competitors, and then give the photos away for free—that’s frowned upon for good reason. You should always respect an official photographer’s time, investment, and professional standing. But if someone wants to attend a show to gain experience, practice their craft, or build a portfolio—and does so ethically and respectfully—they should be encouraged, not condemned.

Gatekeeping becomes harmful when it’s rooted in ego rather than principle, and we’ve all seen examples of it.

This isn’t about one person—it’s about industry-wide patterns. The examples I’m referencing are representative of behaviors I’ve seen echoed in forums, on social media, and at events over the years. The goal isn’t to shame individuals, but to name the dynamic so we can do better as a community.

A particularly telling example was a now-archived social media post from a local photographer. Frustrated with newcomers entering the field, the photographer referred to them as “start-up wannabees” and urged them to “break into their bank account and buy a clue,” mocking their gear choices, questioning their professionalism, and ridiculing their presumed youth and inexperience. The rant even laid claim to a venue that the photographer does not actually own, presenting it as “my venue” in an attempt to assert territorial control.

That sort of rhetoric doesn’t protect the industry—it damages it. Dismissing emerging talent because they don’t yet have business insurance or a $4,000 lens doesn’t uphold standards; it discourages growth. We all start somewhere. Every professional once struggled with settings, budget limitations, and finding their place in the industry.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t an isolated incident. In a separate instance, an individual publicly berated another member who was simply asking for guidance on pricing their services. Instead of offering support, the response was a harsh verbal attack—accusing the poster of undercutting others and “throwing everyone else under the bus.”

When established photographers use their platform to mock, exclude, or belittle those who are new or different, it creates a culture of fear. It isolates, intimidates, and silences the very people who are trying to learn and grow. Gatekeeping stifles creativity, limits diversity, and creates an elitist environment where only a select few feel welcome. It undermines community, collaboration, and the very spirit of what photography should be about.

Thankfully, the rise of digital platforms is helping shift the power dynamic. Photographers no longer need to wait for approval from the old guard—they can share their work, build a following, and create opportunities for themselves. But the attitudes that gatekeeping creates still linger—and they continue to shape how people experience the industry.

I’ve been very lucky to have had the opportunity to do practicums with two very successful equine photographers as part of my photography studies. They mentored and encouraged me when I was just starting out, and that kind of support made a lasting impact on me. It’s exactly the kind of guidance our industry needs more of, and I do my best to offer the same kind of support to those starting out.

Let’s Open the Gate

If you’re an experienced photographer, be a mentor, not a gatekeeper. Share your knowledge. Encourage growth, and remember where you started.

And if you’re just starting out—keep going. Ask questions, seek feedback, and don’t let outdated attitudes hold you back.

The photography world is big enough for all of us. Let’s build a community rooted in creativity, not competition.

Have you experienced gatekeeping—or mentorship—in your photography journey? Share your story.

Photo by Henning Kesselhut on Unsplash

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Choose Equestrian Photography

Choose Equestrian Photography

A Monologue, inspired by Trainspotting’s ‘Choose Life’


Choose waking up before the crack of dawn—
only for the light to ghost you because the sun had better plans.
Choose blonde espresso that tastes like regret, and cold fingers fumbling for the lens cap.
Choose carrying $10,000 worth of gear while your back spasms and your arms beg for mercy.
Choose the cold. The heat. The sideways rain.
All for that one second of grace in motion.

Choose a sport where the light’s never right,
the focus is never quite sharp enough,
and the mane never flies the way you imagined.
Choose draft horses, sport horses, ponies with vengeance in their hearts,
and red mares who look at you like you’re the problem.

Choose dust on your lens.
Sweat down your spine.
And a horse who thinks “ears forward” is a personal attack.

Choose your own intrusive thoughts—
“Watch your histogram.”
“Freeze the action.”
“Feel the moment.”
Feel what, Sharon?
The pressure? The exhaustion?
My brain buffering just long enough to spiral into artistic crisis?

Choose gaslighting yourself into thinking this is your passion.
Choose Imposter Syndrome.
Choose lens caps you’ll lose, batteries you forgot to charge,
and memory cards you definitely didn’t format.
Choose waiting in the heat for the moment—
then looking at your screen and realizing you missed it by half a second.

Choose awkward poses.
Shadowy faces.
Angles that haunt your dreams.

Choose smiling through tears when someone says,
“Wow! Your camera takes really nice photos.”

Choose f-stops.
ISO.
RAW files the size of a small country.
And editing at 2 am; face three inches from the screen,
debating your life choices while your laptop burns your thighs.

Choose horsehair in your mouth while you try to capture a black background portrait
that reveals not just the horse—but its essence.
Choose people screenshotting your work like ‘do not copy’ is just a polite suggestion.

Choose precision.
Choose patience.
Choose Photoshop freezing and Lightroom crashing.
Choose never quite feeling good enough.
But choose it anyway.

Choose doing all of this with a smile,
while secretly wondering if a quiet job in retail might be less traumatic.

Choose Instagram reels.
Choose Facebook reach of 0.02%.
Choose TikToks hijacked by teens commenting,
“OMG this horse looks like Spirit!!”

Choose hashtags like #EarPorn and #ManeGoals
and wonder what your life has become.

Choose the mess.
The sweat.
The frustration.
Then—choose that one impossible, magical moment
when everything aligns,
and you think, This is it.
The horse is flying. The rider’s face is pure joy.
And you’ve just captured the soul of the sport in a single frame.

Then choose the next day.
Because one great shot is never enough.

Choose insanity.
Choose delusion.
Choose pulling hay out of your bra.

Choose equestrian photography.
Because there’s nothing else like it.

Agree? Disagree? Still covered in arena dust? Drop your thoughts below!

Photo by Thomas William on Unsplash

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