Midsummer solstice has come and gone. Usually, I like to commemorate the day with a small ritual in nature or simply spending the whole day outside, but this year was a little different albeit well spent eating pistachio gelato in Sicily so I think it still counts for something! What I love most about these midsummer days is that they can be both lazy, languorous, and yet equally filled with vitality, a fresh-faced outlook, and joy for life with a renewed sense of purpose and direction. The power of sunlight I suppose. Most mornings I rise before or with the sun, ground my feet in the grass, and soak in the first rays of soft light.

Words have never been my strong point. I’m no writer and I admire anyone whose strength lies in words and language. Words can be a powerful starting point for concept development. As visually driven people, we may initially gravitate towards creating a mood board collecting images for inspiration for an upcoming project or simply to generate some ideas. But what if we started with words first? What if we open up to a blank page and let our ideas flow? I find that pouring my ideas on paper first allows to me go deeper into the actual feeling and essence of the story I want to tell. Just as there is nuance in words, there is nuance in the visual images we use as inspiration.

I’ve been waking earlier and earlier each day thanks to the little birds chirping with the rising sun. Honestly, most mornings I rise at 5 am with the birds but the days are getting longer with the turning of spring to summer. It’s so wonderful to begin your day like this, especially knowing it will be spent in front of a screen. While I’m working at my desk, I love watching the piggy birds feast on the seeds I’ve left them that morning. The reality of being a photographer is that you’ll spend most of the time behind your computer, not your camera.

When I first began shooting, I was under the illusion that if I didn’t shoot in manual mode, it meant I wasn’t a good photographer. So silly, yes but as a beginner, shooting in manual mode seemed like miles away from where I was and what I could technically comprehend. I looked at others thinking they must have radical confidence in their technical ability to flick the dial to M and shoot away without even thinking.

Photographing food was far from my mind when I first picked up my camera. The night sky, my mother’s flower garden, and the lush green hills of my home called me. I would set up my tripod in the middle of the night at -17 F (yes -17 F!) in December when the air was so cold, that your warm breath immediately crystalized in the air. I set a timer anywhere from 15 - 30 minutes to capture the star trails in the inky, velvet wintery sky. Maybe it was the surprise and delight of seeing the star trails in my camera or the rush of it feeling like an adventure with just me and the night sky. I was hooked and even took a local class at my community center on night photography. But what does this all have to do with visual storytelling?

I vastly underestimated the importance of patience when I first picked up the camera. I was all too eager, more than ready to a fault. I just wanted the shot and move on. On to the next site, the next subject, the next town. The next whatever it was. I rarely took the time to actually sit and be present with the scene or subject. I was so focused on getting the shot I wanted and continuing on. But what I’ve realized over time is that while it’s ok to be eager and excited about a newfound location or a secret site, or a new subject, and just frantically snap away, there is something to be said for just being still and present.

Its the photos we don’t take that haunt us for years. Fleeting ones that flashed right before our lens, around a corner, or through a doorway. I could fill an album of photos I wish I had taken. Memories from long ago that still float to the surface in my mind. And for whatever reason, I wasn’t quick enough or made a mistake of some sort that I let it slip by. I must have hundreds of moments like that — the what-if moments of life photography version. Ultimately, I stash the images I captured away on a hard drive only to see or edit them every so often. But while I upload, I remember that one that got away. That one photo I so wish I took! I think every photographer has experienced this literal pang in our creative hearts at some point. So what can we learn from not just the images we take but from the ones we don’t or wish we had?

To photoshop or not? Just one of many questions any photographer will ask themselves…In this new age of AI (quite scary in my opinion!) it’s an all too familiar question we may ask of any image we may see. AI is an entirely different topic that I don’t feel like addressing in this post (or ever! if that says anything about my feelings about it within the world of photography.) The art of photography itself is subjective, there is no “right” or “wrong” way to photograph. It all comes down to the choices made by the photographer: the settings, the style, the light, the subject, and the composition. What you don’t include in the frame is just as important as what you do.

I’m going to say something controversial as a photographer. Even more so because I live in Maui. Maybe you’ve even wondered why I don’t share sunset photos…The truth is I think sunset photos are boring. Simple as that. It’s not that I don’t appreciate a stunning sunset mind you. The rainbow palette ranging from soft blush to fuschia truly is one of nature’s awe-inspiring marvels. Witnessing a Hawaiian sunset on the beach is a prized experience for any traveler to our islands. The reverence for that fleeting moment as the sun slips below the horizon, leaving its bold and colorful mark in the sky is a moment locals and tourists alike appreciate. A moment of pause and reflection, even gratitude.

What is a good photography practice?

Keeping our files organized?

Studying light?

A streamlined editing process?

While all of those practices are necessary skills and part of business housekeeping, there is still one that I believe, that overrides all of them. One that by nurturing it daily, refines our photographic eye. And that one practice is the practice of active observation. Not only is being in the place at the right time important to capturing a moment, but it’s actually seeing and finding moments right under our nose (or eyes.)

There is a power in words. Slight nuances in verbiage can affect how we see. Do you take a photo of something or about something? Photographer James Popsys came up with this theory and I want to elaborate on it in regards to visual storytelling. Is there a difference? I think so. Visual storytelling is so much more than conveying information through our lens. It taps into our humanness and our emotions, the subtle intricacies that we can relate to.

Award-winning recipe developer and photographer Suze Morrison creates captivating and emotive visual stories from her home in the UK. She is wildly talented and infuses her work with hints of the natural world. She shares her stories using natural and artificial light, which are undeniably striking. Her love of home cooking and food comes across all of her photography and videography work. You can see more of her beautiful work here.

This post will be a little different than my last posts as I'm not very technical, but I think it's an essential topic for visual storytelling. And that is the relation between a F-stop and visual storytelling. As you know, an f-stop, such as f 1.4, f 2.8, f 5.6, f 11, etc., indicates the amount of light coming through the aperture. (The f stands for focal length) So, a wider f-stop, meaning the opening of the blades is wide open like a big pupil of our eye, is classified by a smaller number, such as f 1.4 or f 2.8. A wider opening of the aperture means more light can come in, thus a smaller f stop number.

I've received so many nos in my life. No, thank you; we are all set for this calendar year. Thank you kindly for your inquiry, but we source all our photography in-house. We are not looking for any partnerships, but we wish you all the best. Unfortunately, she can not take on another proposal this year. She wishes you the best of luck with your book. Do any of these sound familiar?

Styling in food photography ranges on a broad spectrum. On one end, it can be minimalistic and clean to overly styled, erring on the verge of contrived. I think the right balance is somewhere in the middle, where it feels and looks believable but intentional. A slice of life, if you will. When I first started shooting food photography for clients, my styling was all over the place. Finding my stride and developing my eye to know what looked right took me a while. It boils down to practicing in various scenes, using different elements, props, lighting, and backgrounds. As always, it begins with telling a story.

Creating a compelling portfolio is one of the most important tasks for new photographers. It’s not something that happens overnight; let’s just say that. While you may be so excited to get your work out there, it isn’t just as simple as picking a few favorite photos of yours and uploading them to a gallery or website. A well-rounded portfolio takes time to put together, with a lot of thought and intentionality behind it. Even if you don’t have a large body of work or roster of client work to pull from, there are subtle ways you can begin to carve out your portfolio.

Taking the leap of faith to work as a full-time photographer can be nerve-wracking, to say the least. Security is a fundamental human need. And the creative world can be a bumpy business road to travel. Creatives tend to put so much pressure on themselves and their work. Balancing our creativity while financially being able to support ourselves is something every photographer goes through at some point. I have yet to meet a "successful," published, well-established photographer who didn't have some growing pains and financial struggles. In the early days of my career, I believed that if I wasn't working full-time as a photographer, I hadn't "made it," or I was just a hobbyist.

You have your unique perspective and view as a visual storyteller and photographer. No one has the same eye or history as you. How you capture something may be entirely different from how I see something, which means there is always room for a new eye in the field. I’ve found that these five rules are the foundation of good storytelling in photography.

Maintaining your style while working with brands can be a delicate balance. On the one hand, brands come to you because they value your eye and expertise, but they also have a specific agenda of what they need. When I first started out, I said yes to every opportunity that came my way, and it wasn’t always a good thing. My eagerness to partner with a brand, any brand, left me feeling somewhat untrue to me and how I work. I accepted client work that only wanted straight product shots when in reality, this type of photography is far from what I enjoy and my strengths.

When my mother gave me my first camera at seven years old, I held it in wide-eyed wonder. It was shiny and new, sparkling silver. It was a basic point-and-shoot, nothing fancy, but to me, it was my first ever camera! I ran around the house, snapping away at anything, moving or otherwise. Our sleeping dog? Yes. The Christmas tree upside down? Yes. The door peek hole? Yes. The table leg? That too. Everything was fair game. I didn’t think about what buttons were which or what the little dial meant. All that mattered was what I saw through the little viewfinder and the shutter button. What would that seven-year-old teach me today?