How to Have a Simple Photoshoot (And Then Immediately Overcomplicate It)
(aka, “From Idea to ‘What Have I Done?’—The Artistic Spiral”)
Introduction: The Best-Laid Plans of Photographers and Chaotic Artists
Somewhere between ‘this will be a simple shoot’ and ‘I am now constructing an artificial moon,’ things got out of hand. Let’s discuss.
You can have an inspiration board, a detailed shot list, a gear checklist, and a foolproof lighting setup—but at some point, that beautiful, structured plan will get unceremoniously dropkicked into the abyss. And if you’re a certain type of person (hi, it’s me), you don’t just adapt to the chaos—you embrace it. Maybe a little too much. Maybe in a way that results in you impulse-buying bed canopies and constructing an artificial moon.
This is the story of how I took a simple, elegant lighting concept and went completely off the rails.
It started, as these things do, with an idea for another photoshoot at my favorite studio, Spckrft Studio. My friend Lauren (@gothampd) sent me an inspiration reel. It featured a dreamy setup—flowy fabric suspended from above, soft glowing light filtering through, ethereal as hell. I looked at it and thought, “Perfect. I have muslin fabric. This is gonna be easy.”
Ah. Sweet, naive past me.
The problem? Turns out, muslin is too stiff and too opaque to create the effect I wanted. A minor setback, right? A mere speed bump in the grand creative highway?
Except instead of troubleshooting reasonably, my brain decided, “Well, we’re already here, let’s just buy some bed canopies and make something entirely different.”
So that’s exactly what I did.
Now, did the canopies give us the soft, floaty, flowing fabric dream of the original reference? No. Absolutely not. They were delicate, structured, and sheer in a way that did not behave at all like the inspiration.
But.
What they did do was let light pass through beautifully, which meant my improvised moon—aka, a 32-inch softbox blasting out RGB magic—looked insanely cool behind the model. So instead of soft, ephemeral drapery, we ended up with something else entirely: a glowing, celestial fantasy scene, like some kind of ethereal goddess stepped through the veil of reality itself.
Did I stick to the plan? No. Did it matter? Also no. Because that’s the thing about photography: sometimes you start with one vision and end up somewhere completely different—but way cooler.
And that’s when I should have stopped.
But, reader, I did not stop.
Because, as we’ll see in the next section, this shoot had other plans for me.
“I Meant to Do That” – When Inspiration Takes a Detour
So, there I was, standing in my studio, staring at a pile of sheer bed canopies and questioning every decision that had led me to this moment. This was supposed to be easy. A simple concept. Flowing fabric, glowing light, soft, dreamlike ambiance. But the second the muslin betrayed me (too stiff, too opaque, too much like a damn bedsheet), I had spiraled straight into uncharted territory.
That’s the thing about photography—you can plan every last detail, but the moment reality smacks you in the face (or in this case, refuses to let light pass through like I wanted), you have two choices:
Give up and do something else.
Fully commit to the madness.
Guess which one I chose?
The bed canopies weren’t the original plan, but they did have one distinct advantage: they let the light from the softbox moon shine right through, turning what was supposed to be “flowy sheet magic” into something even better—a glowing portal to the fairy realm.
It was delicate. It was surreal. It had an eerie, ethereal quality that made my models look less like human beings and more like otherworldly deities that had accidentally wandered into my studio while searching for lost souls.
Not mad about it.
So, lesson learned: Sometimes, the thing that doesn’t work for your original vision turns out to be exactly what your shoot needed.
However.
That was only the beginning of the accidental theme emerging from this shoot. Because, as it turns out, my models had a surprise of their own.
Coming up next: The Fey Conspiracy.
The Fey Conspiracy: When Your Models Accidentally Form a Cult
You know that moment in a movie when the main character stumbles onto a bizarre coincidence, squints suspiciously at the camera, and mutters something like, “That’s… weird”?
Yeah. That was me when I looked around and realized that two out of four models had shown up in fey attire.
This was not planned.
No pre-shoot coordination. No secret fairy alliance. Just a freak accident of cosmic proportions.
And it wasn’t just that they were fairy. They were ethereal fairy. Otherworldly. Forest blessed deities draped in celestial light, standing in a perfect, unintentional aesthetic. Combined with Lauren as a diametrically opposed cyber burlesque dancer. They looked less like models and more like a council of supernatural beings deciding the fate of mortals.
Which left me, Raf and the fourth model—our Little Mermaid.
She, unlike the others, had dark flowing curls, standing opposite this divine blonde tribunal like a Disney heroine who wandered into the wrong fairytale. Meanwhile, I’m off to the side, doing my usual "moody art boy" routine, looking like I’m about to monologue about destiny and the meaning of life.
So there we were:
The Goddesses of the Veil – Radiant, celestial, as if they had just stepped through a mystical portal to bestow wisdom (or judgment, or both).
The Cyber Dancer - looking like she’s ready to banter with Harrison Ford about the meaning of existence.
The Mermaid, the Steampunk Gentleman and the Artist – Watching. Wondering. Opposing forces in the grand cosmic balance.
At this point, I wasn’t sure if we were still doing a photoshoot or unknowingly reenacting some ancient mythology where the outsiders must prove themselves worthy to the luminous fey queens of the realm.
Either way, it was unreal, unplanned, and completely perfect.
The Secret Sauce: How to Accidentally Build a Moon and Become a God
Alright, so we’ve got the Goddesses of the Veil, the Mermaid, Lauren the cyberpunk burlesque dancer, Raf the Steampunk Gentleman, and the Artist standing in cosmic opposition, and an entire accidental mythology unfolding in my studio.
But all the divine energy in the world won’t save a photo if the lighting isn’t right.
Enter: The Secret Sauce.
This is where I tell you exactly how I lit this madness, not because I think you’re going to perfectly replicate it (I mean, feel free, but also embrace the chaos), but because sometimes the difference between a decent image and something that looks like a portal to another realm is knowing which buttons to press.
A. The Gear – A Symphony of Light and Overthinking
Camera: Sony A7RV – aka, the "I refuse to miss details" camera.
Lens: 50mm G series at f/2.5 – because it’s just the right amount of portrait-y while still letting me get that sweet, dreamy depth.
Shutter Speed: 1/320 – because I had fabric flying everywhere, and autofocus does not love when you put mesh between it and a human face. I wanted to lock in the texture of the netting and motion without blur.
B. The Lighting – How to Build an Artificial Moon Without Upsetting Any Actual Gods
The Overhead Light (aka, The Divine Glow):
Light: Amaran 300c
Position: Directly overhead, bathing the models in that soft, heavenly, goddess-being-summoned glow.
Why It Worked: Creates instant drama and depth—the kind of lighting that makes someone look like they’re stepping through a celestial gateway instead of just… standing in a studio.
The "Moon" (aka, A Softbox That Thinks It's a Celestial Body):
Light: Another Amaran 300c
Modifier: 32-inch softbox
Why It Worked: This was the real trick to the set—placing the softbox behind the model so it mimicked a glowing celestial object (moon? sun? wormhole to an alternate dimension? you decide).
Bonus: Both the moon and the overhead light were controlled through the Amaran app on my phone, because we live in the future and also because I refuse to run back and forth adjusting lights like some kind of medieval serf.
The Fill Light (aka, To Silhouette or Not to Silhouette):
Light: Aputure 300 LS with a giant softbox
Purpose: This was my wild card.
Sometimes I turned it on for more soft detail in the models.
Sometimes I turned it off to let them become pure silhouettes against the moon, which honestly made them look even more mystical.
Lighting Hack: Want easy, dramatic lighting? Hit your subject from directly above and directly behind. No front fill? Boom, instant silhouette. Front fill? Boom, celestial soft glow.
C. Autofocus vs. The Mesh of Doom
One small problem: autofocus hates mesh.
The models were sometimes behind the netting, and my camera was like, "Oh, cool, I’m just gonna lock onto this random floating fabric thread instead of the very obvious human."
Solution? Higher shutter speed, lower aperture (f/2.5), let autofocus struggle but still grab enough detail.
Despite the struggle, the A7RV actually did a phenomenal job. 10/10, would fight with autofocus again.
D. Photoshop: Where I Fix My Brilliantly Poor Life Choices
Alright, so the lighting already looked incredible in-camera, but let’s be real—I wasn’t about to leave it at that.
Step 1: Color Correction
The overhead and backlights had an intense green cast (which, cool, but not flattering on skin).
Created a mask of the models and subtracted some of that green so they looked more like celestial beings and less like they wandered out of a toxic waste spill.
Step 2: The Moon Glow Hack
Could I have used a fog machine to enhance the light beams? Yes.
Did I want to spend four hours refilling fog juice? Absolutely not.
Instead, I grabbed my trusty god ray overlay from Nucly, dropped it into Photoshop, and layered it over the background to fake an extra boost of heavenly glow.
Step 3: Light Leaks for That Ethereal Look
Took my silhouette mask, applied it to the god rays, reduced density just a little, so the light leaked through the edges of the models.
Result: The models looked like they were being touched by divine energy, because honestly, at this point, I think they were.
Final Thoughts: The Beauty of Overcomplication
Look. Could I have just hung up a softbox, told everyone to stand still, and called it a day?
Sure. But where’s the fun in that?
Instead, I built an artificial moon, bought mosquito netting like some kind of overenthusiastic medieval castle decorator, and accidentally invoked an entire celestial pantheon.
And you know what? It was worth it.
Lesson of the day:
Sometimes, your original idea isn’t the best idea.
Sometimes, chaos leads you to something way better.
And sometimes, you end up accidentally staging a divine council of fairy goddesses deciding the fate of an artist, a dancer, a steampunk guy, and a mermaid.
Would I do it all over again?
Absolutely.
Next time, though? I might actually use that fog machine.
📸 Ever had a shoot spiral wildly into something better than planned? Drop your story in the comments—I need to know I’m not alone in this madness.
