Every photographer hits a wall sometimes — a night where nothing quite clicks, and the vision that burned so brightly in your head just… fizzles out under pressure. That was me a few nights ago. Armed with my gear, my wands, my flashes, and a model ready to go, I thought I was about to nail a ghostly, high-impact long exposure shoot. Instead, I got a masterclass in misalignment — of light, of framing, and of expectations.
From the very beginning, things felt “off.” My flash (one of my trusted Photoolex units) decided to throw a tantrum — firing only when it fancied it, and occasionally not recognising that it was connected at all. When it did work, it was so overpowering that the whole mood I was chasing got flattened by a wall of light. It was harsh, unflattering, and completely wrong for the vibe I was after — despite the fact I had it dialled down to a low output.
This was meant to be a test shot. It might be my favourite.
But here’s the kicker: I think the issue was not just the flash. It was the diffuser I’d mounted on top. In hindsight, it threw strange, chunky shadows and scattered the light unevenly. I’ve now ordered an umbrella mount so I can simplify things and soften the light more naturally — the diffuser box just is not doing it for me.
Then there was the composition. Honestly? I had not thought things through as well as I should have. I was so caught up in the excitement of “what if I do this cool ghost effect through the ruins” that I forgot the importance of knowing the angles before I started waving lights around. Some shots were off-balance, others were overexposed, and in too many of them, the model just felt… lost in the frame.
Sometimes it’s the mistakes that make the mood.
One major realisation: I work better alone for light painting. When I have someone else there — even if they’re willing and patient — I get self-conscious. I stop experimenting. I rush. I worry I’m wasting their time. And in that headspace, I miss opportunities, I play it safe, and ironically, I get worse results.
So here’s what I’m taking with me going forward:
• Pre-visualise the angles — I need to walk the space before I shoot and decide where the light should fall, how I want the subject framed, and what the overall scene is trying to say.
• Test flash positioning in advance — not just power levels, but placement. How far? What angle? Flash to the side? Behind the subject?
• Swap the diffuser for an umbrella — a softer, wider, more forgiving light is what I needed last night.
• Solo time is sacred — when it comes to complex experimental stuff like long exposure or light trails, I need the freedom to fail without worrying about entertaining someone else.
• Do not wing it next time — spontaneity is great, but a moodboard, a plan, and a checklist will make magic a lot more likely.
Light painting fail? Maybe. Atmosphere? Absolutely.
This night felt like a disaster. But now? It feels like part of the process. I could scrap the photos — and honestly, some will never see the light of day — but I would not scrap the experience. It taught me where the cracks are. And that’s how you get stronger — by not pretending the cracks don’t exist.
The photos you see here? They’re okay. A few even hold something special. But behind them are dozens that missed the mark. Blurry shots, dodgy flash, bad framing — you name it. And that’s something I am learning to sit with. Sometimes the most artistic moments get glazed over in pursuit of perfection. But those “failures” are where the story really lives. They remind me I am still learning — and still showing up.
This is not a story of failure. This is just a foggy step on the path to finding my light — quite literally.
Studio DJC 