How to be a better visual storyteller, as a photographer.
I think one of the most interesting things about being a photographer is that, whether you realise it or not, you spend years developing your own visual language.
You work out how you like your greens to look, whether you’re drawn to softness or contrast, how much grain feels like too much grain (arguably there is no such thing), the kind of light that makes you want to immediately pick up your camera and all the tiny, probably slightly obsessive decisions that eventually make your photographs feel like your photographs. We put so much time into refining that part of our work, but I think we sometimes forget that visual storytelling doesn’t stop at the edge of an image.
Being a better visual storyteller, to me, is much less about learning another photography technique and much more about learning to notice. Of course, composition and light and all the technical bits matter, but some of my favourite photographs aren’t necessarily the most technically impressive ones. They’re the ones that tell me something. The half-drunk coffee on the table, somebody’s hand reaching into a frame, the weather being absolutely bloody awful, muddy shoes, crumpled sheets, a bit of movement that technically should have been blurred out but somehow makes the whole photograph better. Those little details are what turn a collection of nice photographs into something that actually feels like a story.
And I think the exact same principle applies when I’m designing a brand.
When I’m working on a visual identity for a photographer, I’m not really interested in picking a nice font, adding a neutral colour palette and calling it branding. I want to understand the visual world that already exists within their work. What are they repeatedly drawn to? How does their work make me feel? Is it quiet and intimate, or loud and chaotic? Does it feel nostalgic? Editorial? Earthy? Romantic? Is there humour in it? Is there movement? What are the colours and textures that keep appearing without them necessarily realising they're doing it?
Those things give us so much more to work with than a Pinterest board full of other people's branding.
Your photography already contains clues about what your brand could become. If your images are beautifully imperfect, tactile and full of movement, it would feel strange to surround them with a visual identity that is incredibly clinical and polished. Equally, if your work is bold, colourful and playful, putting it inside the same beige minimalist website we've seen approximately four hundred times isn't necessarily helping somebody understand what makes you different.
That doesn't mean everything needs to literally match. I'm not suggesting you eyedropper the brown from somebody's jumper and make it your brand colour. It's more about creating a feeling of belonging. Your photography, typography, colours, words, website and even the way you present your galleries should feel like they exist within the same little universe.
I think this is where photographers can benefit massively from thinking a little bit more like art directors.
Instead of constantly asking whether something looks good, start asking whether it makes sense. Does this font actually feel like my photography, or do I just like it? Does this photograph belong in my portfolio because it represents where my work is going, or because I was proud of it three years ago? Does my website create the same feeling I want somebody to have when they look through one of my galleries? Does the way I'm presenting myself actually support the photographer I'm trying to become? There’s a difference between having good taste and having visual direction. Good taste can tell you that something is beautiful. Creative direction helps you understand why it belongs.
And I think that distinction becomes increasingly important as your photography develops. You can refine your preset another hundred times, buy another lens, tweak your website or change your fonts, but eventually the thing that makes your work feel stronger isn't necessarily adding anything new. Sometimes it's simply becoming more intentional about the things that are already there. That's really what visual storytelling means to me. It's not just the photograph. It's the feeling you create around it, the things you choose to show, the things you leave out and the world somebody steps into when they discover your work.
Your photographs are already telling people a story.
Your brand should know how to continue it.
