I recently wrapped up a project onboard the mega-ship, Regal Princess. It was a fabulous treat—one of those assignments that seamlessly blended work with inspiration. Photography opportunities were everywhere, from the break of dawn to the glow of midnight.
Like I do on most of my project shoots, I began by focusing on the client’s needs—the commercial side of the work. That means capturing the ship itself, the beautifully plated food, the attentive staff, the onboard services, the grand architecture, and the shimmering pool decks. This is the “postcard” side of cruising—the polished, promotional imagery that paints an inviting picture of life at sea.
I work methodically and with purpose, making sure I’ve captured everything my client expects. My mind and body don’t fully relax until I feel, with certainty, that I have what I need. Once I check those shots off my list, my brain gives me permission to start looking for something deeper—something less obvious.
I call this part of my process the art of cruising.
These images may not win awards or garner mass attention, but they fuel my creative spirit. They are what make my work feel personal, exploratory, and deeply satisfying. This kind of imagery isn’t found in the grand gestures of a luxury cruise—it’s hidden in the quiet corners, the fleeting moments, the interplay of light and shadow against steel and water. It’s the condensation on a deckside cocktail glass, the way the morning sun filters through a row of lounge chairs, and the rhythmic folds of the ocean’s surface in the ship’s wake.
Here’s the thing about this kind of photography: you have to look for it. It doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t scream for attention. It whispers.
That’s what makes it so rewarding. The art of cruising is in the details, the in-between moments, the quiet poetry of a massive, floating city at sea. It’s in the solitude of an empty deck at sunrise, in the way a towel drapes lazily over a chair after a long day in the sun, in the abstract reflections of neon light on wet pavement during a midnight rain.
To see these moments, you have to slow down. You have to be intentional. You have to notice how light bends, how shapes form, and how colors and textures interact in unexpected ways. You have to train yourself to look beyond the obvious and embrace the subtle.
For me, this is the most rewarding part of any assignment. It’s what keeps my work from feeling purely transactional. There’s joy in discovering beauty in places where most people aren’t looking. And there’s a deep satisfaction in capturing the essence of a place, not just in its grandeur, but in its smallest details.
The art of cruising isn’t just about where you go—it’s about how you see. And for me, that’s what photography has always been about.
Click.
Jack.
