By Kaye Davis - Grand Master of Photography (NZIPP), Hon. FNZIPP Master of Photog. II (AIPP)
First, There’s the Self-Doubt
Every year, as the Iris Awards approach, I hear many of the same conversations.
“I’m not sure my work is good enough.”
“I’ll wait until next year.”
“I don’t think I’m ready.”
The interesting thing is that I’ve heard those words from photographers at every level, from first-time entrants right through to photographers with distinctions, awards, and decades of experience behind them.
I’ve heard them from highly accomplished photographers with walls full of awards.
I’ve heard them from photographers stepping into the arena for the very first time.
And if I’m being honest, I still hear them from myself.
The truth is that questioning your own work never really stops. I’m not sure it’s supposed to. A healthy amount of doubt is often what keeps us learning, refining, experimenting, and growing. The moment we think we’ve got it all figured out is probably the moment we stop paying attention.
What the Process Reveals
Entering awards asks something of us that photography itself often doesn’t. It asks us to stop, step back, and take a long, hard, honest look at our work.
That’s not always comfortable.
Most of us spend our time creating, shooting, editing, serving clients, or chasing personal projects. We rarely give ourselves the opportunity to look at our work collectively and ask:
What am I consistently doing well?
Where are my strengths?
What keeps appearing in my images?
What could be stronger?
The process of selecting images for Iris often reveals things about your photography that you may never have noticed otherwise. Patterns begin to emerge. Themes become clearer. Images you overlooked suddenly stand out. Sometimes the act of choosing the work is as valuable as entering.
What Really Happens in the Judging Room
I’ve sat on all sides of the awards process: as an entrant waiting nervously for results, as someone involved in managing the awards behind the scenes, and as part of the judging process itself.
One thing I’ve come to appreciate is that judging isn’t about catching photographers out or searching for faults. Judges genuinely want to discover great work and recognise the strengths within an image.
What many entrants don’t see is the care that goes into that evaluation. Behind every score is a panel of experienced photographers bringing different perspectives, experiences, and insights to the work in front of them.
Judges are considering far more than technical execution alone. They’re looking at storytelling, intent, creativity, impact, craftsmanship, and how effectively an image communicates. They’re asking what the photographer is trying to say and how successfully they’ve achieved it.
From the outside, it’s easy to focus on the final score. What isn’t always visible is the depth of experience, discussion, and thoughtful consideration that sits behind that assessment.
At its best, the judging process does more than evaluate photographs. It encourages photographers to see their work differently, recognise their strengths, and continue refining their craft.
The Surprises Along the Way
You don’t always know which of your images is the strongest until you have the courage to put them out there.
Sometimes the score confirms what you hoped.
Sometimes it doesn’t.
Almost every photographer who has entered for any length of time has a story about being completely wrong about which image would score highest. The image you nearly left out becomes your strongest performer. The photograph you were certain would do well receives a more modest result than expected. Sometimes, a photograph you’ve barely
thought about for months suddenly reveals itself as one of the strongest pieces of work you’ve made.
That’s part of the value.
Awards have a way of challenging our assumptions. They encourage us to see our work from perspectives other than our own. Sometimes that confirms what we already suspected. Sometimes it opens our eyes to something entirely different.
Those surprises aren’t failures. They’re opportunities to discover something new about your work and about yourself as a photographer.
Seeing Your Work Through Different Eyes
Photography can be a solitary pursuit.
Much of our time is spent behind the camera, behind a computer screen, or working independently on personal projects. It’s easy to become very close to our own work.
Awards provide an opportunity to see your images through different eyes. They help reveal strengths you may not recognise and weaknesses you may be too close to see.
That outside perspective can be incredibly valuable. Not because judges are always right and photographers are always wrong, but because thoughtful feedback and evaluation can help us see beyond our own familiarity with the work.
Where the Growth Happens
Perhaps most importantly, this is where growth happens.
Many photographers can point to a particular award entry, a particular image, or even an unexpected result as the moment something shifted in the way they saw their own work.
Sometimes that shift comes from success, and sometimes it comes from disappointment. And sometimes it comes from discovering that the image you thought was ordinary wasn’t ordinary at all.
Awards have a way of revealing things we don’t always see for ourselves. They challenge our assumptions and occasionally uncover strengths we didn’t know we had.
The awards aren’t simply about recognition.
They’re about giving your work the opportunity to surprise you.
They’re about challenging your assumptions, testing your instincts, and discovering what your photography is capable of when you have the courage to put it forward.
You Grow by Entering
So if you’re sitting there wondering whether to enter, whether your work is ready, or whether it’s worth putting yourself out there, I’d encourage you to do it.
Choose the work you’re proud of.
Submit it.
Be open to the experience and whatever it might reveal.
And remember that every photographer whose work you admire was once standing exactly where you are now, deciding whether they were ready to enter.
The reality is that you don’t grow by waiting until you’re ready.
You grow by entering.