The Photograph You Didn't Plan For

Some of my favorite photographs were never on the shot list.

They weren't part of a mood board.

They weren't something I had envisioned before picking up the camera.

Sometimes, they simply appeared.

The challenge is recognizing them when they do.

Photography requires a certain amount of planning. Especially when you're working with other people, there are concepts to consider, locations to scout, lighting to prepare, wardrobes to coordinate, and schedules to manage.

But I've found that some of the photographs that stay with me most aren't the ones I planned most carefully.

They're the ones I almost didn't see.

Sometimes You Just Have to Pay Attention

One of my favorite photographs I've ever made happened completely outside of the kind of work I normally do.

I had been photographing around Mt. Hood National Forest in Oregon for most of the day. After driving more than a hundred miles, I was making my way back toward Portland.

I stopped at Vista House at Crown Point.

Almost immediately, I noticed a group of Buddhist monks getting out of a white SUV with their handler.

And suddenly, I knew what I wanted to photograph.

Not the landscape.

Not the sunset.

Not the view.

One of them.

I watched as one of the monks walked toward the edge of the overlook and began photographing the landscape himself.

While everyone else seemed interested in the scenery, I was interested in him.

The robes.

The wind.

The movement.

The person standing there quietly making his own photograph.

I took three frames.

That's it.

Three.

The photograph I'm sharing here was my favorite of the three.

At the time, I knew I had something.

But I didn't fully understand what I'd photographed yet.

The Photograph Revealed Itself Later

When I got home, I loaded the image onto my computer and started making a quick edit.

That's when it happened.

The photograph began to reveal itself.

The movement in the robe.

The colors.

The expression on his face.

The relationship between his figure and the landscape behind him.

Details I hadn't fully processed while standing there suddenly became obvious on a large screen.

I remember nearly being brought to tears by it.

Not because it was technically perfect.

Because I realized I had witnessed something.

And somehow, I had been paying enough attention to preserve it.

That photograph is now printed as a framed 16×20 and hangs in my office.

Whenever someone sees it, they pause.

So do I.

I Wasn't Looking for That Photograph

This is the part that stays with me.

I had spent the day intentionally photographing the beauty of the Oregon wilderness.

That was the plan.

The photograph that became my favorite came at the very end of the day, when I was simply on my way home.

It wasn't part of the assignment because there was no assignment.

It wasn't part of the concept because there was no concept.

It was simply something that caught my attention.

And I followed it.

I think that's where some of my photojournalism background kicked in.

There is a particular kind of awareness that comes from understanding that a moment can unfold if you're willing to wait long enough to see it.

You don't always know what is about to happen.

You just have to be present enough to recognize it when it does.

The Best Photograph May Not Be the One You Came to Make

I think this is one of the hardest things for photographers to remember.

We can become so focused on executing the photograph we imagined that we miss the photograph that's actually happening.

We're watching the light we planned.

Checking the composition we had in mind.

Waiting for the pose.

Following the mood board.

Trying to recreate the image that exists in our heads.

Meanwhile, something else is happening just outside the frame.

Sometimes it's better.

Sometimes it's simply different.

And sometimes it's the photograph you will remember years later.

This Happens on Set, Too

The unexpected photograph isn't limited to wandering around with a camera.

It happens during fashion and portrait sessions all the time.

A model makes an unplanned movement.

A particular expression appears between directions.

The light shifts.

Someone changes position.

A garment moves differently than expected.

A moment of stillness appears between photographs.

Those moments can be easy to dismiss because they weren't part of the plan.

But that's precisely why I think they deserve our attention.

The plan tells us where to look.

Presence allows us to notice what happens there.

Pay Attention to the Small Crop

There is something else I've noticed over the years.

The photograph you didn't plan for often represents a very small percentage of what you shoot.

You can make hundreds of photographs on a set or location.

And sometimes the image that stays with you is buried somewhere in the smaller crop of frames.

It may not be the obvious photograph.

It may not even be the photograph you thought you were making.

But something about it feels alive.

That's why I don't think making more photographs necessarily means seeing more.

Sometimes the important part is learning how to recognize the one that matters.

Don't Be So Busy Making the Photograph That You Miss It

There is a strange paradox in photography.

We pick up a camera because we want to see.

Then, once we become more experienced, we can become so focused on making photographs that we stop seeing.

We start executing.

And execution has value.

Craft matters.

Technical knowledge matters.

Preparation matters.

But none of those things replace attention.

The camera is only useful if we're actually looking.

Final Thoughts

My favorite photograph I've ever taken wasn't planned.

I didn't travel to that location specifically to make it.

I wasn't photographing a portrait session.

I wasn't even particularly interested in photographing the sunset.

I simply noticed someone.

I paid attention.

And when the moment presented itself, I made three photographs.

One of them became something I'll probably carry with me for the rest of my life.

That's the gift of photography.

You can plan.

You can prepare.

You can develop a visual language and refine your technique.

But you can't schedule every meaningful photograph.

Some of them have to find you.

The important thing is being present enough to recognize them.

So leave a little room in your process for the photograph you didn't plan for.

Look beyond the shot list.

Look between the planned moments.

Look at the edges.

Look at what has nothing to do with what you thought you were photographing.

Because sometimes the photograph you're looking for isn't the one you came to make.

Sometimes it's the one you almost walked past.

And sometimes, if you're paying attention, it becomes the photograph you never forget.