It’s easy to make a case for all cameras, of every stripe, being subject-neutral. Cameras don’t differentiate between people, places, or things. They’re tools, unbiased and unassuming, simply there to capture what’s in front of them.
Photographers, on the other hand, are anything but subject-neutral. We bring our biases, our passions, and our specialized skills to every shot. In fact, I’d argue that being a photographer requires us to master the art of wearing different hats. We’re constantly toggling between being generalists and specialists, adapting to the demands of the moment.
Could you take, for example, the recent photos I shared of three stunning Cuban models? That shoot was a masterclass in switching gears between street photography, portraiture, and lifestyle imagery. I was all-in on finding the right location, the right light, the ideal subject-to-camera distance, and the perfect balance between subject and background. I wasn’t just shooting—I was orchestrating, and aligning a million moving pieces to create something cohesive and beautiful.
When I’m in this mode and mood, I don’t see much else. My focus is razor-sharp, consumed by the interplay of hair, makeup, and wardrobe, not to mention the energy and presence of the models themselves. Everything I shoot during these moments is intentional, tied to the narrative I’m building through my lens.
But photography is a layered art form, and sometimes, in the midst of this intensity, I find myself needing a break. Between hair, makeup, and wardrobe changes, I slipped into an entirely different mindset. I wasn’t looking for people or faces. I wasn’t orchestrating stories. Instead, I was drawn to quiet, simple still lifes—an old doorframe, a weathered chair, the way light spilled across a cracked tile floor.
In these moments, I was wearing another photography hat altogether, one that felt more contemplative and less rushed. Still lifes offer a meditative pause. They allow me to slow down, reset, and refocus before diving back into the dynamic energy of working with models.
Here’s my point: depending on the subjects you shoot, you, the photographer, have to adapt. You become, in essence, a subject-specialist, applying specific skills, talents, and nuances to meet the needs of the moment. Portraits demand one kind of attention; still lifes, another. Street photography calls for spontaneity and instinct, while lifestyle imagery often hinges on creating a sense of ease and authenticity.
It’s the nature of photography—this constant recalibration, this ability to switch modes as the situation demands. Cameras may be neutral, but photographers are not. And that’s the beauty of it. We bring our individuality, our vision, and our adaptability to every frame we shoot.
Photography asks us to be chameleons. And if we embrace that, the possibilities are endless.
Click.
Jack.
