Why “Videographer” Doesn’t Quite Fit

Over the past few years, I’ve noticed the term videographer being used more and more to describe people like me. Often by clients. Sometimes by agencies. Usually with good intentions.

And I understand why.

Language evolves. Industries simplify. Social platforms flatten distinctions. “Videographer” has become a convenient catch-all for anyone who can shoot, edit, and deliver video content. In many contexts, it’s a practical word. A shorthand. A way to keep things moving.

So this isn’t a rejection of the term, or a complaint about how others use it.

But it’s also not a label I feel accurately describes how I work.

Historically, videographer has been associated with recording or capturing something that already exists. An event. A message. A brief that’s largely defined before the camera turns on. The emphasis is often on execution and delivery rather than interpretation.

There’s absolutely skill in that, and it’s a valuable role. But it’s not quite where my work sits.

What I’m drawn to, and what clients often come to me for, is shaping stories rather than simply capturing them. Thinking about structure, tone, rhythm, behaviour, and emotion. Deciding what not to show as much as what to include. Observing real moments, or guiding performances, and finding meaning in the in-between.

That process feels closer to authorship than documentation.

The challenge is that many of the distinctions that used to exist in film have blurred. Commercials borrow from documentary language. Branded films sit alongside short narrative work. Social platforms treat everything as “content”, regardless of intent or craft.

In that environment, job titles have become tool-based rather than perspective-based. What can you shoot. What can you edit. How fast can you deliver.

“Videographer” fits neatly into that system.

And that’s okay. I don’t expect clients or agencies to constantly parse the difference between filmmakers, directors, shooters, or hybrids. The language they use is shaped by budgets, timelines, and platforms, not by film theory.

Where it matters to me is how I describe my own role.

Words carry expectations. When I describe myself as a filmmaker or director, I’m signalling that I’m involved upstream. That I care about intent, not just output. That I’m thinking about how something will feel to watch, not only how it will look on a spec sheet.

It’s not about hierarchy or status. It’s about clarity.

I’m very comfortable working lean, shooting myself, editing my own work, or scaling up to larger crews when needed. But regardless of scale, the mindset stays the same. Story first. Human behaviour. Emotional truth. A sense that what you’re watching has been observed, not manufactured.

So when someone calls me a videographer, I don’t correct them. There’s no offence taken. Often, it’s simply the most accessible word available.

But when I introduce myself, write a bio, or talk about my work, I choose language that better reflects how I add value.

Because in the end, this isn’t about labels. It’s about making sure the conversation starts in the right place.

Not with the camera.

But with the story.