Why Photographers Should Still Shoot Personal Work
A recent portrait photography session in downtown Sacramento reminded me why personal work matters. Personal projects allow photographers to experiment with lighting, gear, and creative ideas that often influence their professional portrait work.
Portrait Photography and Creative Growth in Sacramento
At the beginning of this year I spent some time reflecting on 2025 and asking a simple question: what work actually made me happy as a photographer?
Like most working photographers, a lot of my time is spent on assignments. Corporate headshots, editorial projects, marketing images, and portrait photography for clients. That work matters and it keeps the business moving forward. But when I looked back at the year, something interesting stood out.
Some of the photographs I felt the most connected to weren’t assignments at all.
They were the images I made simply because I wanted to make them.
Those shoots usually start with a simple idea: meet a friend downtown, try a lighting concept, experiment with a piece of gear I haven’t used in a while, or explore a location that looks interesting. There’s no client attached to it and no specific deliverable at the end of the day.
Ironically, those shoots often produce some of the most valuable work I make all year.
A Creative Reset for Photographers
When you photograph professionally long enough, it’s easy to fall into patterns. Certain lighting setups. Certain compositions. Certain ways of directing people in front of the camera.
Client work often rewards consistency.
Personal work gives you the freedom to break those patterns.
A recent portrait session with my friend Sam Altawil in downtown Sacramento reminded me why that freedom matters. Sam had just picked up a new tuxedo and we thought it would be fun to meet early in the morning and make some portraits around the city.
There was no assignment attached to the shoot. The goal was simply to see what we could create.
That freedom changes the way you approach photography. You notice light differently. You take more risks. You try ideas that might fail. And sometimes those ideas eventually find their way into your professional work.
Experimenting With Portrait Lighting
One of the things I wanted to explore during this shoot was working with a simple lighting setup and letting the environment play a role in shaping the portrait.
Downtown Sacramento is a great place for portrait photography because light reflects off glass, concrete, and nearby buildings. Those reflections create natural patterns of light and shadow that can dramatically change the mood of a photograph.
By combining a single strobe with the reflections already present in the environment, the lighting becomes more dynamic without needing a complicated setup.
Shoots like this are where you refine technique. You learn how light behaves in real environments. You see how subtle changes in position affect the mood of a photograph. And sometimes you rediscover gear or techniques you haven’t used in a while.
Those lessons almost always carry forward into future assignments.
Changing Up the Gear
For this shoot, most of the images were made using the Fujifilm GFX50S II paired with a 50mm lens.
The 50mm isn’t a lens I use all the time on that camera system, which made this the perfect opportunity to pull it back out and spend some time working with it again. Like most photographers, I tend to fall into habits with gear and reach for the same lenses repeatedly.
Personal projects are a great excuse to break those habits.
Working with a lens you don’t use every day forces you to think differently about composition, distance, and framing. It’s a small shift, but it often leads to new ideas or perspectives you might not have explored otherwise.
For lighting, I kept things simple and used a Godox AD600 Pro, which has been a rock-solid light for me for years. I’ve worked with a lot of different lighting systems over time, and the AD600 Pro has proven to be incredibly reliable on location.
The light was paired with a Phottix G-Capsule 85cm softbox, which provided a soft, controlled light source while still being compact enough to move quickly between locations.
That combination made it easy to work fast while still shaping the light in a way that complemented the architecture and natural reflections around us.
Another benefit of personal shoots like this is that they allow you to put your gear into situations you might not normally encounter on an assignment. That kind of experimentation keeps you comfortable and confident with your equipment.
Photography Is Also About People
There’s another benefit to personal projects that often gets overlooked.
They reconnect photography with people.
When photography becomes your profession, it can start to feel transactional. Clients, schedules, deliverables, timelines.
Personal shoots bring back the human side of the craft.
Meeting a friend early in the morning to make photographs feels very different from walking into a scheduled assignment. Conversations are relaxed. Ideas flow naturally. And sometimes the best images happen between poses rather than during them.
That kind of environment often produces portraits that feel more authentic.
Personal Work Often Becomes Your Best Work
Another interesting thing happens with personal photography projects.
Because they’re driven by curiosity instead of obligation, they often attract more attention.
Some of the images people comment on the most—whether online or in person—come from shoots that started as nothing more than experimentation. Other photographers notice the lighting. Clients notice the style. Models notice the energy of the images.
In many ways, personal work becomes the work that defines your voice as a photographer.
Moving Forward in 2026
One of the things I realized while reflecting on last year is that personal work shouldn’t be something you do only when you have spare time.
It should be part of the creative process.
Going into 2026 I’m making a point to schedule more of these shoots—meeting interesting people, exploring locations around Sacramento, and experimenting with portrait lighting and ideas.
Not because a client asked for it.
But because that’s often where the most rewarding photographs happen.
Great morning in downtown Sacramento making portraits with my friend Sam Altawil.Sam had just picked up a new tuxedo and it felt like the perfect excuse to head downtown and make a few images. We kept the lighting simple and just explored the city for a while seeing what we could create.
Shoots like this are always a good reminder of why I started photographing in the first place.
Good friends, good light, and a camera.
And in many cases, those personal projects end up shaping the way I approach portrait photography, lighting, and creative direction in my work as a Sacramento photographer.
Looking Back at 2025 . . . Finding Rhythm, Balance, and Purpose
2025 was a year of rhythm—refining executive portrait work, improving workflow, and staying grounded through meaningful personal projects that continue to shape how I approach photography.
As January comes to a close, it feels like the right time to pause and look back at 2025. It was a year filled with a wide range of projects, shifting environments, and steady growth—both professionally and personally.
From a work standpoint, executive and corporate portraits made up a significant portion of the year. While I’ve photographed people for decades, something about the rhythm of this work really settled in over the past year. Whether it was a single executive or a team of seventy, the process became more refined, more efficient, and more consistent.
One of the realities of corporate portrait photography is time. Sometimes you get to slow down, connect, and build rapport. Other times, you may have five minutes—or less—with each person. In one case this year, I photographed roughly seventy individuals in a single afternoon. Experiences like that don’t allow for hesitation. They require preparation, adaptability, and the confidence to execute under pressure.
That confidence comes from repetition. Years of working quickly, solving problems on the fly, and knowing my gear inside and out have made it possible to walk into almost any situation and deliver. One project in San Francisco summed that up well. I had planned for a large conference room and instead found myself working in a standard hotel room with low ceilings and tight space. With executives rotating through on a strict schedule, there was no margin for error. The lighting plan had to change, and it had to work immediately. It did.
While assistants are invaluable in many scenarios, I’ve also learned that my system is dialed in enough that, in some cases, working solo is actually more efficient. Setup and breakdown are faster, decisions are immediate, and the process stays streamlined.
What continues to draw me to portrait work is the interaction itself. Occasionally, that connection happens fast. Other times, it happens before the camera ever comes out. One client and I talked for nearly thirty minutes before taking the first photo. That wasn’t intentional—it just happened. But once the camera came up, the conversation continued. The result was a relaxed, natural session that felt less like a photoshoot and more like a dialogue. That comfort always shows in the final images.
From a technical standpoint, one of the biggest improvements in 2025 was workflow. Editing tools and smarter processes have significantly reduced turnaround time without sacrificing quality. Jobs that once took days now take a fraction of that time, which benefits both my clients and me. Efficiency matters, especially when handling high-volume corporate portrait sessions with tight deadlines.
On a more personal level, 2025 marked a significant shift in perspective. Being baptized Catholic and finding a stronger footing in my faith has influenced how I approach my work. It’s less about taking every project that comes along and more about asking whether the work aligns with my values. That clarity has made it easier to say no when something doesn’t feel right—and more confident saying yes when it does.
Balance was another theme this past year. While photography always carries a degree of uncertainty—doing everything “right” doesn’t guarantee the phone will ring—it’s a career that requires constant effort and resilience. Not everyone is built for that. I’m aware of the pressure that comes with it, especially when one successful year leads directly into the question of doing it all over again.
That’s where personal projects come in.
Some of the most meaningful work I did in 2025 wasn’t commercial at all. Spending a day embedded at Mahon Ranch, or documenting multiple days with my son’s ROTC unit in Wyoming, reminded me why I started photographing in the first place. Those projects allowed time—time to observe, to listen, and to understand the heartbeat of a place or a group of people. That kind of work pushes me creatively and keeps me grounded.
As I look ahead to 2026, I want to continue building on what worked: efficient, high-quality corporate and executive portraiture paired with intentional personal projects that challenge and inspire me. That combination is what keeps the work honest, sharp, and sustainable.
Thanks to everyone who trusted me with their image, their time, and their stories in 2025. I’m looking forward to what comes next.
Mahon Ranch Cattle Roundup: A Day Inside a 140-Year Sacramento County Working Ranch
There’s a kind of clarity that only comes after spending a full day in the dust, heat, and rhythm of a working ranch. Watching generations of cowboys handle 120 head of cattle—not for show, not for nostalgia, but because it has to be done—reminds you what real work looks like. This wasn’t a photo op. It was a way of life. And I was grateful to be invited into it, camera in hand, just trying to do it justice.
The sun wasn’t high yet when the first gate clanged open. By then, the dust was already rising and the air carried that familiar weight of work. Out here, the job doesn’t wait for comfort. It gets done because it has to. That’s just the way it’s always been.
Jason Mayan rides alongside his daughter Mary at first light—a proud father guiding the next generation in the rhythm of ranch life.
The roundup at Mahon Ranch was underway. Roughly 120 head of cattle would pass through the chute before the heat gave way to evening. Vaccines. Ear tags. Eye treatments. Castrations. There was no ceremony to it—only rhythm. Purpose. And the quiet understanding of people who know exactly what needs to happen next.
They came in on four-wheelers and horseback. The machines cut through the open fields fast, but once the herd funneled into the corrals, it was the horses that mattered. They moved on instinct—a shift in the rider’s weight, a soundless signal. No commands shouted. Just trust built over time.
Cowboy Kona—steady in the saddle and generous in spirit. None of this would’ve happened without his invitation. Grateful for the trust and the open gate.
Troy Mayan on the quad, Kona on horseback—two generations, two approaches, one goal. Different tools, same mission: keep the herd moving and the tradition alive. Tyler Anderson holds the line on the far left, steady as ever.
I was there to photograph it. Not as a tourist, not as a guest—but as someone trying to blend in, earn trust, and get the kind of images that don’t happen unless you’re standing in the same dirt. Literally. At one point, a calf broke loose and it took three cowboys to wrestle it down. I swung my light, dropped to a knee, and framed the moment. Only later did I realize I’d knelt straight into a pile of fresh cow shit. That’s the price of a good photo. It didn’t even register.
Out here, you’re not just documenting a process. You’re stepping into history. The Mahon family has worked this land since 1882, when John Mahon purchased it and began raising hops. By 1890, it was one of the largest hop ranches in Sacramento County. Over time, hops gave way to wheat, cattle, and a way of life that ran deeper than profit margins. Four generations have lived and worked here—through Prohibition, war, drought, and inflation. Some things changed. Many didn’t.
The man I rode out with in the morning, Jack Mahon, told me stories of getting two weeks off school for harvest season. Everyone had a job. That was just life. A far cry from today, when most people driving down Grant Line probably have no idea a working ranch even exists beyond the trees.
That absence of recognition doesn’t bother the Mahons. They don’t chase attention. They just do the work. As Tom, one of the core men behind the operation, put it: “We were raised that the ranch comes first, then your family, and yourself a distant third.” Brutal? Maybe. But it’s how this place has endured.
Tom showed me a knife—an old one, worn and stained. He found it when he was 11 or 12, buried in a muddy riverbank. He gave it to his dad, who cleaned it up and gave Tom his own knife in return. They used the riverbank knife for castrations from then on. Still do. Thousands of bulls have passed through that blade. There’s history in its edge, and in the way it gets passed from hand to hand without fanfare.
Tom holds the same knife he’s used for decades—found as a boy in the mud near a riverbank, it’s become part of the ritual. Tools come and go, but some earn their place through time, grit, and tradition.
Many of the men working that day will likely carry this ranch into its next chapter. Jason. Tyler. Troy. They moved among the herd with purpose, some of them sons or nephews, others brought in through blood or bond. No one was just standing around. Everyone had a job. And there was no need to say much.
Tracy Lynn Mainville, Kona’s girlfriend, handles the chute with focus and calm. Like most on the crew, she jumped in wherever needed without hesitation.
Allysa Biddle doesn’t miss a mark. One hand on the brand, the other on break time — just another day at Mahon Ranch.
This wasn’t a public-facing event. It wasn’t a show. It was the kind of day that leaves your clothes stiff with dust, your hands raw, and your boots heavy. And yet, I loved every minute of it.
Some of the photos won’t make it into the public eye—not because they’re bad, but because they’re raw. Bloody tools. Split ears. A calf thrashing under the weight of three men. That’s the truth of it. Ranch work isn’t sanitized. It’s physical. It’s sometimes brutal. But it’s always done with care. You don’t put your hand on a tool like that without respect.
This is a way of life shaped by calloused hands, early mornings, and decisions that outlive the ones making them. You can feel it in the gates, the fence lines, the worn saddle leather. You can feel it in the way they look out over the fields, always measuring, always remembering.
The ghosts of cowboys past still roam this place. And every time someone swings a gate, ropes a steer, or drops to a knee beside a calf, they pay tribute.
My thanks to Cowboy Kona for the introduction and to the Mahon family for letting me into their circle, even briefly. I’ll be back. With my cameras. And probably with cow shit on my boots.
Tom Mayan and his son Troy — two generations bound by dirt, grit, and a deep loyalty to the land. One raised on the ranch, the other raised by it. Tradition doesn’t just continue here — it stands shoulder to shoulder.
Two trades, same principles. Tom with his pocketknife—broken in by decades of work. Me with two cameras—still trying to keep up.
Technical Note
This was a self-assigned project—something I believe every working photographer should make time for. It wasn’t for a client, a publication, or a paycheck. It was driven by curiosity, respect for the craft, and a desire to tell a story that deserves to be told.
The images were captured using a Nikon Z9 with a 70–200mm lens and a Nikon Z8 with a 24–70mm lens—both dependable tools in fast, dusty, and physically demanding conditions. Lighting was added with a Godox AD600 strobe and a Phottix deep dish to push through harsh midday sun. I used a Cotton Carrier 3G harness to manage both cameras comfortably throughout the day, and each lens was fitted with a circular polarizer for better control of tone and reflection.
Sometimes, the tools help elevate a story. Other times, they just help you keep up.
Ready to go with all my gear thanks for the photo Tracy!
Wyoming Army ROTC Field Training Exercise: A Father's Reflection on Leadership and Legacy
In April 2025, I made a 2,400-mile round-trip drive from Sacramento to Laramie, Wyoming, stopping in Guernsey for a weekend I’ll never forget. I was there to spend a few days with my son Ryan, a senior in the University of Wyoming’s Army ROTC program, as he and his fellow seniors ran their culminating training event—the Joint Field Training Exercise (JFTX).
A Father’s Reflection on Leadership, Legacy, and the Bright Future of the U.S. Army
In April 2025, I made a 2,400-mile round-trip drive from Sacramento to Laramie, Wyoming, stopping in Guernsey for a weekend I’ll never forget. I was there to spend a few days with my son Ryan, a senior in the University of Wyoming’s Army ROTC program, as he and his fellow seniors ran their culminating training event—the Joint Field Training Exercise (JFTX). What made it so significant wasn’t just that it marked the end of their time as cadets, but that they were fully responsible for planning, resourcing, and executing the entire training operation. This wasn’t a scripted drill handed down from above—it was a live, student-led operation, built from the ground up by the people running it.
But what I witnessed over those four days was much more than a personal milestone. It was a powerful glimpse into the next generation of Army officers, and it left me not only proud as a father but hopeful as an American.
The Road to Guernsey
Long before I arrived at Camp Guernsey, I had already begun to feel the weight of what this trip meant. The drive out took me through snow-dusted mountains, desolate stretches of Nevada desert, and into the red cliffs and open skies of Utah and Wyoming. Every turn seemed to echo the history of this country—from the Oregon Trail ruts near Guernsey to the sandstone cliffs of Echo Canyon that once guided westward-bound settlers. It felt right that something so timeless and rooted would be the setting for a new chapter in Ryan’s life.
Camp Guernsey: Training Ground for Future Leaders
Camp Guernsey Joint Training Center is an expansive, 78,000-acre facility with multiple training zones: live-fire artillery ranges, land navigation courses, obstacle fields, and an airfield capable of handling C-17s. It’s the kind of place designed to push cadets past their limits—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally.
The Field Training Exercise Ryan participated in is a long-standing joint event between the University of Wyoming and Colorado State University. While this annual event is unique in its scale and collaboration, it’s important to understand that every ROTC program nationwide is designed to be cadet-led. Events like this one are not just opportunities for cadets to train—they are built, resourced, and executed by the seniors themselves.
Ryan and his peers spent countless hours leading up to this weekend learning and applying concepts like training management, prioritizing objectives, and planning for short-term, mid-term, and long-term training goals. This JFTX wasn’t just a culminating experience for the underclassmen—it was the senior cadets’ capstone assignment. And they did an outstanding job from start to finish.
On arrival, cadets were flown in by UH-60 Blackhawks, a first for the event thanks to the Wyoming National Guard. From there, the intensity never let up. Gear was inspected, platoons were formed, and a Tactical Operations Center (TOC) was established. Over the next three days, cadets rotated through five missions, each one testing leadership, teamwork, and decision-making. Juniors were placed in rotating leadership roles—squad leader, platoon sergeant, platoon leader—and evaluated based on the Army Leadership Requirements Model.
At one point, temperatures surged to 85 degrees—a rare spring spike that prompted the seniors and cadre to proactively adjust the training plan to mitigate risk. I watched as they issued jerry cans full of Gatorade and made other real-time decisions to keep the cadets hydrated and safe. While I initially thought I was witnessing heat-related injuries, I later learned the actual incidents included a hip injury and four knee-related injuries—each managed quickly and professionally by the team on site.
The final challenge was land navigation, a course designed by Ryan and CDT McDonald. Cadets had five hours to locate four points during the day, and four hours at night to find three more. No GPS. Just a compass, a map, a pace count, and an unwavering focus. It was physically grueling and mentally demanding—by design.
Watching My Son in His Element
Seeing Ryan in this setting, I was moved in a way I didn’t expect. He stood tall, clear-headed, and in control. Confident, but never commanding attention for the sake of it. One particular moment stays with me: a younger cadet returned to the TOC frustrated after failing to find a single land nav point. I watched Ryan calmly pull them aside, speak to them quietly, and help them regroup. It turned out the cadet’s compass had been miscalibrated—an important lesson in verifying your gear—but what stood out wasn’t the technical correction. It was the way Ryan led with empathy, not ego.
I’ve seen him on the football field, in the gym, at family dinners. But here? I saw him as the man he’s become. That kind of quiet, steady leadership doesn’t show up overnight. It’s built. And it’s earned.
Mentoring the Next Shooter
Throughout the weekend, I had a shadow of my own—Louis, the battalion’s Public Affairs Officer (PAO). He was assigned to stay with me and soak up whatever he could. And he did. I showed him how to work with off-camera flash, use natural light to shape emotion, and edit creatively using just an iPhone and the Tintype app. The cadets were thrilled with the portraits we made—images that made them feel strong, proud, and seen. And Louis? He got inspired. I saw it happen in real time.
I brought my Nikon Z9 with a 70–200mm lens and my Z8 with a 24–70mm. Both were set to medium RAW, auto ISO, and daylight white balance. I bracketed exposures for group shots and worked quickly under unpredictable conditions. Time was tight. Lighting changed by the minute. But like everything else that weekend, the challenge was part of the reward.
Leadership That Leaves an Impact
One of the most meaningful parts of the weekend was the time I spent riding to and from the site with Lieutenant Colonel Paul W. Hanson, the Professor of Military Science at the University of Wyoming. LTC Hanson oversees the entire ROTC capstone program—the training, the commissioning, the academic interface with the university.
He’s also a seasoned Army officer, with deployments to Iraq and Afghanistan and experience advising at the Pentagon. But more than his credentials, what struck me was his character. He spoke with clarity, conviction, and genuine care for these cadets. He sees the mission behind the mission: not just to prepare soldiers, but to build leaders of integrity and resilience.
He told me that having me there for the FTX was the best decision he made this year. That meant a lot. And I believe he meant it.
A Personal Testament
Photography has never been an easy road. The highs are incredible. The lows can be brutal. But it’s given me the one thing I value most—presence. I’ve coached my kids, cheered for them, mentored them, and stood beside them with a camera in hand. And because of the life I chose, I was able to be here—to watch my son step fully into the role he’s been working toward, and to see with my own eyes how ready he is.
I’ve always tried to stay involved in my kids’ lives without becoming overbearing. My wife worried early on that, as a former athlete, I’d bring that same intensity into fatherhood. Maybe she wasn’t wrong to worry. But I’ve done my best to walk that line—to support, not push; to guide, not pressure.
This weekend confirmed I did something right.
The Future is Bright
As I made the long drive back to Sacramento—1,050 miles of empty road and full reflection—I couldn’t help but feel something deeper than pride. I felt hope.
These cadets—their dedication, their adaptability, their leadership under pressure—represent everything we want to see in the future of the Army. And under the guidance of leaders like LTC Hanson, they’re being shaped the right way.
If you’re wondering what kind of young people are preparing to lead this country, or what kind of program is molding them, I’d encourage you to look at the University of Wyoming’s Cowboy Battalion. What they’re doing isn’t just a training exercise. It’s legacy work. And I’m honored to have witnessed it.
Sacramento Fashion Week 2025 – A Photographer’s Perspective
Fashion Week always brings a mix of creativity, spontaneity, and technical challenges. This year at Sacramento Fashion Week, held at the Crocker Art Museum, I set out with a clear vision of how I wanted to capture the event. Over two nights, I experimented with lens choices, lighting techniques, and visual storytelling,
Fashion Week always brings a mix of creativity, spontaneity, and technical challenges. This year at Sacramento Fashion Week, held at the Crocker Art Museum, I set out with a clear vision of how I wanted to capture the event. Over two nights, I experimented with lens choices, lighting techniques, and visual storytelling, narrowing down my final selections to 46 images that best represented my approach.
Night 1 – Up Close & Personal with a 20mm Lens
For the first night, I committed to using a 20mm fixed lens, which forced me to get close and fully engage with my subjects. A wide-angle lens like this is powerful when used up close—it creates intimacy and pulls the viewer right into the scene. When shot from a distance, it tends to lose impact unless you’re capturing an entire environment.
I also experimented with a strobe positioned outside the main window to illuminate the runway. The idea was to create dramatic backlighting for the models as they walked. While I liked some of the results, I hadn’t anticipated the subtle patterned texture on the museum’s windows. This caused the light to diffuse more than expected, softening its impact. That’s part of the creative process—trying new things, adapting, and learning from the results.
Night 2 – Flexibility with a 24-70mm Lens & On-Camera Flash
For the second night, I switched things up and shot with my 24-70mm lens, staying mostly at the 24mm end. This gave me more flexibility to react to the fast-paced environment while still keeping the immersive feel I wanted.
I also mounted my flash onto a strobe frame, keeping it as close to the lens center as possible when shooting vertically. This technique helps reduce shadows, creating a distinct, high-energy look. The bright, direct light adds an editorial feel that works well in a fast-moving setting like a fashion event.
Finding the Right Moments
While covering events like this, I always seek out candid, organic moments rather than posed shots. If someone naturally strikes a look when I raise my camera, I’ll take the shot, but the most interesting images often come from unexpected interactions.
For example, I captured a few moments when models were eating sour candy backstage—it was a break from the polished, high-fashion aesthetic, showing their personalities in a fun way. Encouraging these unscripted moments adds layers to the story of the event.
Post-Processing & Creating a Cohesive Style
Once the event was over, I spent a few days refining my edit, looking for a consistent visual style that tied both nights together. My final adjustments included:
• Opening up the exposure for a brighter, more open feel.
• Dramatically lowering contrast to create a soft, balanced look.
• Dropping highlights & whites while lifting shadows & blacks to retain detail.
• Shifting the white balance cooler for a sleek, editorial feel.
• Fine-tuning colors in Lightroom’s color mixer to match the aesthetic I envisioned.
Applying this look across all images helped ensure the series felt cohesive and intentional.
Final Thoughts
Shooting Sacramento Fashion Week was a fantastic creative challenge. With so much visual energy—bold designs, vibrant colors, and stunning models—it was the perfect playground for experimenting with different techniques.
I’ve learned over time to shoot for myself first—to create images that I find visually compelling rather than worrying about outside opinions. In this case, there wasn’t a single “client,” just a shared goal of representing the event well. That gave me the freedom to pursue the angles, subjects, and style that felt right.
It also reinforced something I’ve long believed: warming up visually before shooting makes a huge difference. Before each evening, I looked at images in a style I wanted to emulate, sometimes building a reference board on Pinterest to set the tone. Just like an athlete warms up before a game, priming your visual brain before a shoot helps you get into a creative rhythm faster.
I’ll be posting my final images in a series of Instagram posts, so keep an eye out! If you see yourself or know the designers, models, or hair & makeup artists, feel free to tag them.
📸 Follow along on Instagram: @englephoto_in
What’s your approach to shooting events like this? Drop a comment, and let’s talk about photography!
Why I Use What I Use: A Thoughtful Approach to Photography Gear
When I first started in photography, I’ll admit—I had my fair share of “gear envy.” The allure of shiny new equipment was hard to resist, and I made plenty of purchases that didn’t add much value to my work. Over time, I realized that having the right tools matters far more than having all the tools.
When I first started in photography, I’ll admit—I had my fair share of “gear envy.” The allure of shiny new equipment was hard to resist, and I made plenty of purchases that didn’t add much value to my work. Over time, I realized that having the right tools matters far more than having all the tools.
Today, every piece of gear in my bag serves a specific purpose. If I upgrade, it’s because the new item brings a quantum leap—whether in the quality of what I deliver or the efficiency of my process. Otherwise, I stick with what works until it wears out. This philosophy keeps me focused on what’s important: producing exceptional results for my clients.
What follows is a breakdown of the tools I rely on most, along with the reasons they’ve earned a place in my kit.
Photo Credit: John Lawson
Lighting & Power
Lighting is critical in photography, and for my needs, the Godox AD600 lights strike the perfect balance of performance and cost. After my trusty Phottix strobes gave out, these became my go-to option. To power up on location, I keep the EcoFlow River portable power station handy. It’s saved countless shoots where access to outlets was limited.
When it comes to shaping light, I exclusively use Phottix modifiers. They’re incredibly versatile, durable, and feature innovative designs that make them a joy to work with. Whether I need soft, even lighting for portraits or more dramatic directional light for commercial projects, Phottix modifiers always deliver. They’re an essential part of my kit, even if they didn’t make it into the photo.
Cameras & Lenses
At the heart of my gear are my Nikon Z9 and Z8 cameras. The Z9 is my workhorse, responsive and robust, while the lighter Z8 is a great backup (and increasingly a favorite). For studio work, I turn to the Fujifilm GFX 50 II medium-format camera, which delivers exceptional detail and depth.
My Nikon lens kit includes the versatile 24-70mm, the dependable 70-200mm, and the portrait-perfect 85mm. For creative work, I still love my Sigma 35mm f/1.4, even though it requires an adapter. Each of these lenses plays a key role in my workflow.
Tech & Tools
Incorporating technology has been a game-changer for client interaction and efficiency. My iPad Pro connects directly to my cameras for real-time proofing, saving time and ensuring clients get exactly what they want. The DJI Mic 2 makes audio for social media videos seamless, and my Insta360 cameras capture behind-the-scenes content that adds value to my projects.
I also rely on smaller essentials like my Sekonic light meter, color checker, and high-speed blower—tools that might seem minor but can make a big difference in the final product.
My Chubby cables are another small but vital addition. These high-speed, durable cables keep my gear connected and charged, and their extra length makes them incredibly versatile for on-location work.
For quick recharges, I keep an Anker portable battery in my kit. It’s compact, reliable, and perfect for topping up smaller devices like my phone or camera accessories during a shoot.
Support & Efficiency
Good support gear is just as important as cameras and lenses. My Benro tripod is lightweight, durable, and easy to adjust on the fly. On larger sets, walkie-talkies keep communication clear and efficient. My trusty Mavic 2 drone adds a dynamic perspective to certain shoots, whether for events or creative commercial work.
Final Thoughts
This gear isn’t about showing off—it’s about delivering quality and consistency to my clients. Over the years, I’ve moved away from chasing the latest gadgets and focused on tools that genuinely improve my work. If it doesn’t help me create better images or save time, it doesn’t make the cut.
Whether you’re a photographer or in another field, I hope this post inspires you to think critically about the tools you rely on. It’s not about having the most—it’s about having what works. What’s in your toolbox? I’d love to hear about the tools that help you do your best work—drop a comment below!
The Unyielding Pursuit of Excellence in Photography: A Professional's Reflection
In the ever-evolving world of photography, the landscape is littered with the echoes of shutter clicks from those who've come and gone. The journey through the lens is challenging and fraught with competition and the constant demand for innovation and excellence. Over my years in the photography community, I've witnessed many talented individuals enter the fray with hopes high and dreams vast. Yet, many find themselves unable to weather the storm of the industry, struggling to secure consistent commercial clients.
In the ever-evolving world of photography, the landscape is littered with the echoes of shutter clicks from those who've come and gone. The journey through the lens is challenging and fraught with competition and the constant demand for innovation and excellence. Over my years in the photography community, I've witnessed many talented individuals enter the fray with hopes high and dreams vast. Yet, many find themselves unable to weather the storm of the industry, struggling to secure consistent commercial clients. Reflecting on this phenomenon, I've realized a critical element that often dictates the difference between fleeting presence and enduring success: the rigorous self-critique of one's work.
The Critical Eye
In photography, as in all art forms, being your harshest critic is not a mere suggestion—it's a necessity. The journey of a photograph from a mere click to a captivating image presented to the world is paved with decisions. What many emerging photographers tend to overlook is the importance of discerning feedback. The industry is rife with well-meaning compliments that, while encouraging, do little to push one's boundaries or challenge one's creative limits. True growth emerges from the crucible of constructive criticism, often from those with a qualified eye, those who can see beyond the surface and challenge you to dig deeper into your creative well.
Quality Over Quantity
The mantra of showing the world only your best cannot be overstated. Establishing a personal benchmark of quality that you vow never to dip below ensures that your portfolio reflects your skill and your unwavering commitment to excellence. This discipline in selectivity sharpens your critical eye and builds a brand reputation that clients can trust for consistency and quality. It's about understanding that every piece you share is a testament to your standards and should be something that not only meets but exceeds your expectations.
Measuring Against the Greats
One of the most humbling yet inspiring practices is measuring your work against the greats in the field. This doesn't mean falling into the trap of comparison but rather using their achievements as a beacon to guide your growth. It's about recognizing the gap between where you are and where you aspire to be—not as a discouragement but as a challenge to push further, innovate, and refine your vision.
The Journey Is the Destination
The path to achieving and surpassing your goals in photography is never-ending. Every milestone reached reveals a new landscape of possibilities and challenges. This relentless pursuit keeps the passion alive, driving us to explore new techniques, capture life from uncharted perspectives, and tell stories that resonate on a universal level.
Final Thoughts
For those of us dedicated to photography, the journey is both our curse and our blessing. It's a field where the only constant is change, and excellence is not a milestone but a continuous pursuit. As I reflect on my journey and the evolution of my work, I'm reminded that the true essence of photography lies in the relentless pursuit of capturing not just images but emotions, moments, and the indescribable beauty of the world around us. It's a reminder that in photography, as in life, pursuing excellence is an unending journey that demands our best at every click.