When Sandra Cattaneo Adorno picked up a camera for the first time, she was sixty years old. Now, I know what you’re thinking, and no, she wasn’t sixty years old with decades of photographic experience tucked away in a closet somewhere. Nor was she sixty years old returning to a childhood passion. She was sixty years old with zero experience taking photos, no photography education, and honestly, no real reason to believe she would become good at it.

In fact, according to Sandra, she was terrible. Of her very first workshop, she says “I was obviously the worst student that they’d ever had,” with a laugh. That would’ve been enough to deter most people. But it didn’t phase Sandra.

Today, 10 short years later, she has published four photobooks, exhibited her work internationally, and when we spoke, she was showing a solo exhibition at the Venice Biennale. Yet when you talk to her, accomplishments aren’t what stand out. What stands out is her curiosity and joy. Her gratitude. Her genuine excitement about discovering something entirely new when most people assume their lives are settling into familiar patterns.

Her story is a reminder that photography is about so much more than just making pictures.

Permission to Pay Attention

Sandra’s introduction to photography came through her daughter, who invited her to attend a workshop in Barcelona with photographers Alex Webb and Rebecca Norris Webb, no less.

At the time, Sandra had spent decades building a career in business. Art was something she appreciated, but not something she imagined herself creating. “I never thought I could do photography,” she said. “I never thought I could do anything artistic.” Yet something happened during that workshop.

Before photography, she says she moved through life much like many of us do: focused on appointments, responsibilities, and getting from one obligation to the next. Photography forced her to slow down. “It was the first time that I looked around,” she said. “It was really beautiful to see the world I live in.”

In essence, photography gave Sandra permission to pay attention to a world that had always been there but had largely gone unnoticed amid the pace of everyday life. For her, it was a real gift. 

Starting at Sixty

So many of us hold on to the assumption that creative pursuits belong to the young. We celebrate photographers who start in their teens and twenties, publish books in their thirties, and establish careers by middle age. We wish we had been gifted, camera-toting children, so that we could be successful adults bearing the title “artist” by now. “If only I’d picked up a camera sooner,” we say to ourselves.  

Sandra’s story completely dismantles that timeline. “You don’t expect to discover something at sixty,” she said. “You normally think you’re wrapping up. You’re closing down.” Much to her surprise, photography opened a new chapter. What she discovered was not only a passion, but also an entirely different way of experiencing the world. Rather than seeing age as a limitation, Sandra sees it as motivation. “The problem is that at my age, I don’t have the luxury of time,” she said. She laughed when she said it, but there is truth behind the humor.

Many photographers spend years waiting for permission. Waiting until they have better equipment, more knowledge, more confidence. Sandra didn’t have any of those things. She just started. It’s as simple as that.

The Importance of Encouragement

Something I found refreshing about Sandra is her candor, and how openly she talks about being a beginner. There is no lore around her origin story. No tale of immediate talent or natural genius. She insists her early photographs were awful.

The difference, she says, is that the people around her encouraged her to continue. Alex Webb and Rebecca Norris Webb saw enough potential to tell her to keep going. Her daughter never mocked her photographs, even when they weren’t very good. That support mattered, she says.

Every photographer remembers what it feels like to be uncertain. To wonder whether they belong. To question whether they have anything meaningful to contribute. Sandra’s story is a reminder that sometimes a few encouraging words can change the trajectory of someone’s life.

It’s good to remember that teacher who said, “Keep going,” that friend who told us, “You’re getting better,” a family member who chose encouragement over criticism. Clearly, those moments matter more than we often realize. Thinking about it made me want to be more generous with my own words of commendation.

Curiosity as a Creative Engine

When I spoke to Sandra for our podcast, it was a joy to see how photography had cracked open this insatiable creativity in her. Even standing in Venice with a solo exhibition on display, Sandra was already thinking about her next book. And the one after that.

We may have been chatting through a screen, but I could see her eyes light up as she spoke about experimenting with materials, collaborating with architects and designers, and exploring new ways to present photography. Her Biennale exhibition incorporates silver ink prints, mosaics, mirrors, fabric installations, and architectural elements designed to change how viewers experience the work. As she showed me around the exhibition, I couldn’t help but feel excited about it all. Her enthusiasm is contagious.

Photography seems to be a kind of conversation for Sandra, a new way to explore and interact with the world around her. Every project seems to lead her to another question. Every experiment opens another possibility. She keeps on gathering ideas, collecting inspiration, imagining what might come next. Perhaps it’s that mindset that explains why she has accomplished so much in a relatively short period of time. While many photographers focus on outcomes, Sandra seems focused on discovery. She remains curious.

Beyond the Pictures

What got me excited about Sandra’s story most of all is that it isn’t really about photography. It’s about possibility. It’s about remaining open to change long after society expects us to have ourselves figured out and about embracing the discomfort of being a beginner. And it’s about accepting that there may still be parts of ourselves we haven’t met yet.

Sandra describes herself as the least artistic member of her family. Her sister was a painter and sculptor. Her brother was a writer. She was the practical one, the business-minded one. Then, at sixty years old, she picked up a camera. Today, she speaks about books, exhibitions, collaborations, poetry, architecture, and visual experimentation with the enthusiasm of someone who still has a world of possibilities open to them.

It’s easy to assume our potential is fixed. Sandra’s story proves otherwise. “I think we have much more potential than we think,” she told me. Looking at her work, it’s hard to argue with her.

The photographs are beautiful, certainly. But what stays with me isn’t any single image. It’s the idea that somewhere out there, another sixty-year-old future photographer is walking into their first workshop.

And they might just be the worst one in the room…For now.