The Work Behind the Work

There is an interesting tension in commercial photography and videography right now. The tools available to us have never been better, and at the same time, the pressure to make everything faster, easier, and cheaper has never been greater. Cameras can do things today that would have seemed impossible not that long ago. Editing software can correct mistakes in seconds. Artificial intelligence can remove objects, extend images, generate content, and automate tasks that once required hours of work. For a commercial photographer, these tools can be incredibly useful. I use them myself when they help me work more efficiently or solve a problem without compromising the finished product but I think there is an important distinction between making the process easier and making the work easier. Those aren't necessarily the same thing.

One of the things I have come to appreciate about being a commercial photographer is that the photograph itself is often the smallest part of the job. The camera is simply the tool. The real work begins long before I ever press the shutter.

A typical assignment might start with an email or phone call, followed by questions about what a client actually needs the images or video to accomplish. Then there is scheduling, location scouting, equipment preparation, shot lists, weather, lighting, logistics and all of the other small details that have to come together before a shoot can happen. By the time I arrive on location, I have usually spent considerably more time thinking about the project than anyone looking at the finished photograph will ever know. And then, inevitably, something changes. The weather doesn't cooperate. A location isn't ready. Someone is running late. A product arrives damaged. The light that looked perfect an hour ago has disappeared behind a cloud. A room that seemed ideal during a walkthrough suddenly doesn't work from the camera's perspective. Sometimes the problem is something nobody could have anticipated. That's just part of the job.

In those moments, the value of having an experienced photographer or videographer becomes much less about operating a camera and much more about knowing what to do when the original plan stops working. You have to make decisions. Maybe the shot needs to be moved. Maybe the lighting needs to change. Maybe the composition needs to be completely rethought. Maybe the best option is to wait twenty minutes for the light to return. Sometimes you have to abandon an idea you liked and find another one. There is no button on a camera that solves those problems.

That is particularly true with commercial work because the goal isn't simply to make a technically correct photograph. The image has to communicate something. It might need to make a business appear established and credible, make a property feel inviting, show a product in a way that creates interest, or give a company a visual identity that people remember. The photograph has a job to do beyond simply looking good. That is where I think some of the conversation surrounding modern content creation misses the point. We live in a world that increasingly rewards convenience. We want things faster. We want more content. We want lower costs. We want fewer steps between having an idea and putting it in front of an audience. There is nothing inherently wrong with any of that. Efficiency is valuable, and technology has made it possible for a small business or an individual creator to produce things that once required an entire production crew. The problem comes when efficiency quietly becomes the standard for quality.

There is a difference between finding a smarter way to accomplish something and simply accepting the first acceptable result. There is a difference between knowing when a photograph doesn't need more work and deciding that it isn't worth doing the work in the first place. As a commercial photographer in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, I think about that distinction quite a bit. The work I do in and around Tuscaloosa and the southeastern United States can vary considerably from one assignment to the next. One day might involve real estate photography and aerial work. Another might involve corporate branding, environmental portraits, video production or creating content for a local business. The subject changes, but the underlying responsibility doesn't. I still have to figure out what matters, how it should look, and how to translate that into something that serves the client.

That often means paying attention to things that will never be noticed by the person looking at the finished image. A few inches can change a composition. The direction of a person's shoulders can change a portrait. The quality of light can completely change the feeling of a room. A camera angle can make a space feel larger or smaller. A few seconds of timing can be the difference between a forgettable video clip and one that actually holds someone's attention.

Those decisions aren't particularly visible when everything works. That's probably how it should be. Good commercial work should feel effortless to the person consuming it. They shouldn't have to think about the lighting decisions, the color correction, the retouching, the audio, the camera movement or the dozens of small adjustments that went into producing it. They should simply see the image or watch the video and understand what they're being shown.

There is also an enormous amount of work that happens after the camera is put away. Files have to be backed up. Images have to be reviewed and selected. Photographs need to be color corrected and, when appropriate, retouched. Video has to be assembled, edited and synchronized with audio. Graphics may need to be created. Files need to be exported, reviewed, uploaded and delivered. Sometimes there are revisions. Sometimes there are problems that only become apparent after seeing the finished piece. None of that is particularly glamorous, but it is part of producing a finished product. A client isn't paying a commercial photographer simply for the hour or two spent holding a camera. They're paying for the experience, preparation, judgment, equipment, problem-solving and post-production that allow those few hours to produce something useful.

I'm certainly not opposed to making any of that easier. Quite the opposite. If a new tool allows me to spend less time doing something tedious and more time making creative decisions, that's a win. If software can help me organize a project or speed up part of my workflow, I'll use it. The goal has never been to make the process unnecessarily difficult. The goal is to protect the quality of the result.\

I don't think every photograph needs to be elaborate. I don't think every video needs cinematic effects or layers of motion graphics. Sometimes the best creative decision is to leave something alone. Restraint can be just as intentional as complexity but there is a difference between restraint and complacency.

That difference has become increasingly important as the barrier to creating content continues to fall. More people can produce photographs and video than ever before, and businesses have more options than ever when it comes to creating content. I think that's a good thing. It raises the opportunity for everyone.

It also means that simply producing something is no longer particularly remarkable. The question becomes whether what you're producing is worth someone's attention.

That's ultimately what I want Christopher Landon Photography to be about. Not simply creating more content, but creating photographs and video that have a purpose. Something that represents a business well. Something that tells a story. Something that makes someone stop for a moment instead of scrolling past.

The tools will continue to change. They will get faster, smarter and more accessible. The process of creating content will continue to become easier, and I don't think we should resist that, but I do think we should resist the idea that because something can be done quickly, it necessarily should be.

The barrier to creating content has never been lower which makes the standard for creating something worth remembering even more important.