Learning Through Making

If there’s one piece of advice I return to again and again, for myself and for others, it’s this: keep making work.

I keep returning to short films and mini documentaries not because they’re efficient or easy, but because they allow me to keep learning. Much of this work is self-funded or unpaid, made outside of commissions, briefs, or guarantees of visibility. That’s precisely why it matters, and why I believe more creatives should be doing the same.

Short films and mini documentaries strip the work back to its essentials through limitation. Time is tight, budgets are minimal, access is often limited. There’s nowhere to hide behind scale, resources, or momentum. Every decision matters, from how a story is shaped to how a moment is held. When something isn’t working, it becomes clear quickly. That clarity can be uncomfortable, but it’s also where the learning happens.

Waiting for the right opportunity, the right budget, or the right moment can quietly stall progress. Making self-initiated work does the opposite. It puts you back in motion. It forces decisions. It reveals what you know, and just as importantly, what you still need to learn.

When you work without a brief or a client, the responsibility shifts. You decide what’s worth exploring, what deserves your time, and how much care you’re willing to bring to something that may never travel very far. That process builds judgement in a way paid work alone rarely can.

Short films and mini documentaries offer repetition with intent. Each project becomes a contained space to test ideas, make mistakes, and refine instinct. The feedback loop is short. You feel the consequences of your choices almost immediately, and those lessons carry forward into the next piece. Over time, decision-making becomes more fluent. You spend less energy questioning every move and more energy responding to what’s unfolding.

This kind of learning isn’t about polishing outcomes. It’s about building trust in your own judgement. Repetition reduces fear and replaces it with familiarity. You begin to recognise patterns, anticipate problems, and sense when something feels true or forced. That confidence doesn’t come from recognition or reward, but from having lived inside the process often enough to navigate it with care.

Working across both narrative and documentary in this way has also reinforced the value of constraint. Limited time, access, or resources sharpen focus rather than restrict it. In short films, that often means trusting performance and restraint. In mini documentaries, it means listening closely, responding to real people, and shaping stories from what’s genuinely there. In both cases, attention becomes more important than control.

Although I’m writing about filmmaking here, the principle applies far beyond it. Photography, writing, design, or any creative practice benefits from making work regularly without waiting for permission or ideal conditions. Self-initiated projects create momentum. They allow you to develop a voice through experience rather than theory.

Learning through making is a long-term commitment. It’s not about treating unpaid work as a stepping stone, or justifying it through future opportunity. It’s about staying close to the craft, letting the work teach you, and trusting that progress comes from engagement rather than delay.

If you’re unsure where to start, start small. Go out and shoot. Then shoot again. Make something imperfect. Let it teach you. More often than not, that’s where real growth begins.