Passion Isn’t Found — It’s Built.
Passion isn’t found — it’s built.
What photography taught me about clarity, presence, and showing up.
sent by Krystal Chryssomallis | November 17, 2025
”Passion isn’t the starting point — it’s the outcome of showing up.”
Hi Friend,
People often ask me how I knew photography was my passion — how I knew it was “the thing” I was meant to follow.
The truth is… I didn’t.
When photography entered my life, I wasn’t even all that happy about it.
It was during a world tour with my Dad, in the early days of the internet, when social media was just getting started (I can’t believe I can say that) and everyone was still figuring out what “sharing online” even meant.
We were performing in the most extraordinary places — Rio, China, Puerto Rico, the Middle East — and I kept noticing something:
No one was documenting the story.
Not the roar of the Brazilian crowd chanting like a soccer stadium…
Not the gentle way thousands of people in China would welcome him with such love…
Not the storm rolling across the sky in Puerto Rico as we tried to protect the stage from wind and rain…
Not the backstage exhaustion, the tour buses, the humanity, the humor, the insanity, the random jam sessions (my favorite!), the chaos, the beauty.
I kept thinking:
No one has any idea about what goes into these shows. People would love to see this. I love this… Wouldn’t it be cool if I could find a way to share it with others?
So with zero plan and a $100 point-and-shoot camera, I started taking photos — little snapshots, tiny observations, the parts of life I felt people would enjoy knowing about. I uploaded them to social media simply because I wanted people to feel like they were right there with us.
Fans connected immediately.
They could finally feel the story behind the stage.
But here’s the truth: I didn’t like photography in the beginning.
My Dad saw me taking photos with the tiny point and shoot camera and said: “You can’t tell a story with that thing!”
And he bought me my very first real camera.
It was beautiful… state of the art… and I had NO IDEA how to even turn it on.
Looking back, he must have known exactly what he was doing—what kind of gift he was giving me—because at first, I was not thrilled. Not because I wasn’t grateful, but because I had no idea how to use it! This camera was incredibly advanced, and I had to shoot on fully manual. There was simply no way to take concert photos on automatic.
So now, on top of producing the shows, selling tickets, coordinating teams, and running operations… I suddenly had to learn manual photography on a camera I didn’t yet understand.
I was overwhelmed.
And then came the critiques.
My Dad would call me up on stage in front of everyone to review my photos.
Not to be mean—this was simply how he coached excellence to everyone — but it meant I had to improve fast.
Accountability accelerates growth, even when it feels uncomfortable...
Concert photography is challenging:
the lighting changes every second, everyone on stage is constantly moving, you get a split second to capture a moment, and there are no do-overs.
So no — I didn’t like photography in the beginning.
I was making mistakes left and right!
And yes, I made all of the mistakes.
And I made them in front of everyone... and I was not allowed to back out.
But here’s the part I didn’t understand back then:
It would become the best gift I could have ever received.
And somehow, my Dad must have already known that ;)
And then something shifted.
The more I learned…
the more I understood…
the more I tried…
…the more I fell in love with it.
I got better — and my passion grew with my skill.
Enjoyment often shows up only after skill does...
It wasn’t the camera I loved.
It wasn’t even the photographs.
It was the stories.
It was the behind-the-scenes humanity — the way music unites people who don’t speak the same language, the way cultures express joy in their own unique ways, yet somehow feel the same… the way a single moment can reveal the heart of an entire experience.
It was the framework photography gave me.
Shooting alongside other photographers showed me how differently each of us sees the world — how intention, presence, and connection shape the story just as much as technique.
That’s when I understood:
Photography wasn’t something I did.
It became the way I witness life and communicate that back to the world.
I see the world in frames now — in light, in micro-moments, in the tiny expressions of love and care people share without realizing it.
It pulled me out of years of disassociation and anchored me back into my own life.
Photography taught me to be intentional with my attention —
to truly attune to the world around me, to notice the details, to be present on purpose.
It helped me see connection, witness love, and amplify the care that exists all around us in this beautiful world we get to live in.
I don’t go anywhere without my camera.
It is how I pay attention.
How I stay present.
How I remember that wonder exists everywhere.
…And share that with others.
And here’s the bigger truth:
Passion rarely shows up at the beginning.
Clarity comes from action.
And almost everything becomes more meaningful when you give it enough time to reveal what it really is.
We’re often told to “follow your passion” — as if passion is something hidden inside us, just waiting to be found.
But most of the time?
Passion is something you earn through repetition.
You become passionate about what you get good at.
You fall in love with what you invest in.
You discover meaning by doing, not by waiting for clarity.
So if you don’t know your passion yet?
Pick something.
Try it.
Learn it deeply.
Give it space.
Let it unfold.
Maybe it becomes a lifelong love…
Maybe it becomes a stepping stone…
Maybe it becomes a doorway into a life you never imagined.
Either way — you won’t find your passion by thinking.
You find it by doing.
And you never know:
it might just grow into something you can’t live without.
With love,
Krystal ♥️
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