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Have you ever casually opened your old hard drive, searched for video project folders from years ago, and then pressed the play button?

Usually, the first reaction is a wry smile, followed by an overwhelming sense of cringe. The video's color is overly oversaturated, the transitions are too abundant with dizzying effects, and the storyline is unclear. You might mutter, "How could I have thought this edit was cool back then?"

Don't rush to press the delete button. The embarrassment of looking at your old work is the most concrete proof that you've grown. In the world of video making, no one wakes up one morning and suddenly becomes a master of cinematic filmmaking. This journey is long, exhausting, but very addictive. And most importantly, every videographer has their own phase.

There's a phase where everything feels limited. This is the early stage where enthusiasm is burning, but facilities are not yet adequate. A phase where we have to patiently render videos for hours, maybe even having to borrow the campus computer with better specs because our home PC can no longer handle multitasking. We can't wait for the months to pass, saving up from our salary or project honors here and there, just to be able to build our dream PC for the first time. In this phase, limitations are not obstacles, but rather a teacher that forces us to be more creative and persistent.

Then, we'll enter a slightly dangerous phase: Gear Acquisition Syndrome or GAS. When our savings start to accumulate, we suddenly feel that all visual problems can be solved with new equipment. We can spend hours comparing camera specs or finding out whether we should upgrade to an expensive gimbal so that our camera movements are as smooth as a Hollywood film. We forget that before the equipment is stable, it's our footing and breathing that need to be stable first. Equipment does make the job easier, but it can never think of a storyline for us.

After enjoying experimenting on our own, we usually arrive at the collaboration phase. We realize that this industry is too heavy to bear alone. Making proper videos requires many minds. Maybe at first, it's just casual documentation of campus or dorm events, until we finally realize that we need a team. We start forming a small circle, maybe a core team of five people with the same frequency. Some focus on conceptualizing, some are skilled behind the lens, and some can sit for hours in the editing room. Building a studio with friends is a transitional phase from being just a "recorder" to becoming a visual problem solver for clients.

In this phase, idealism also begins to meet reality. Sometimes we accept commercial projects to ensure the studio's kitchen stays smoking. However, on the other hand, our filmmaker soul still demands that we tell something meaningful. We start looking at bigger issues, thinking about idealistic projects like making documentaries about things that slip from many people's attention—maybe about social disparities, access to facilities between one region and another, or grassroots stories that need to be voiced. At this point, we realize that the camera is no longer just a tool for recording images, but a medium for speaking the truth.

As time goes by, our phase will continue to expand. We who initially only cared about framing and color are suddenly faced with situations that force us to learn new things in the field. Sometimes we're forced to understand the basics of sound engineering when handling live event documentation, tweaking the mixer audio so that the vocal and instrumental sounds remain clear in our final video. The journey of becoming a visual creator is never moving in a straight line.

If today you feel tired, feel that your videos are not as cool as your idols, or feel that clients haven't been able to appreciate the value of your work, take a deep breath. You're not lagging behind. You're just going through one of your phases.

Enjoy those late nights in front of the monitor. Enjoy the long debates with your team about which angle is the best. Enjoy the process of saving up to buy equipment or building your dream PC. Because one day, years from now, you'll reopen the project folder from today, smile wryly, and be grateful that you never gave up in this phase.

Keep recording. Keep telling stories.