Before It Reaches the Plate

There’s something rather satisfying about photographing food before it becomes food.

These grapes are growing on our vines at home. I’ve watched them develop amongst the leaves, gradually getting larger, and naturally I eventually reached for my camera.

Most of my professional food photography begins much later in the story. A chef has chosen the ingredients, prepared the dish, plated it beautifully and then it’s my job to photograph it in a way that makes someone want to eat it.

But food has a story long before it reaches the plate.

It starts with ingredients growing in gardens, fields, orchards and vineyards. The shape of a leaf, the way sunlight falls through it and even the imperfections are all part of that story.

Photographing what’s already there

I didn’t want to interfere too much with these grapes.

There was no styling, artificial background or carefully arranged composition. I simply moved around the vine looking at how the natural light was falling and searching for a viewpoint where the grapes stood out from everything surrounding them.

The shallow depth of field helped separate the bunch from the foliage while still leaving enough of the environment visible to show exactly where they were growing.

That’s an important distinction.

Crop too tightly and it becomes a photograph of some grapes. Leave a little of the vine and foliage around them and suddenly there’s context.

Food photography is storytelling

This is something I think about when photographing professionally too.

A good food photograph doesn’t necessarily need to show everything. It needs to make you notice something.

Sometimes that’s the texture of freshly baked bread, the shine of a sauce, steam rising from a dish or the detail of an ingredient.

And sometimes it’s simply a bunch of grapes quietly growing amongst the leaves.

They’re not ready for the plate yet.

For now, I’m quite happy just photographing them. 🍇

Ray

Camera Confidence: Why I Use Video for More Than Marketing

I had the most wonderful 121 recently with a client I’ll soon be photographing. During our conversation, we talked about something I hear all the time: she’s nervous in front of the camera, both having her photograph taken and filming herself.

It made me realise that what I’ll actually be helping her with isn’t simply photography or video. It’s camera confidence.

As a portrait photographer, I regularly work with people who tell me they hate having their photograph taken. The technical side matters, but so does helping someone relax enough that I can photograph the person rather than the nerves.

Video presents a different challenge. You have to press record, look into a lens and talk, often with nobody there to guide you. It can feel incredibly unnatural.

I know because I didn’t start making videos because I was confident. I started making them because I wanted to become more confident.

At first, video was simply another way of promoting my photography business. But the more I did it, the more comfortable I became with hearing my own voice, making mistakes and expressing myself without trying to make everything perfect.

That confidence started carrying over into other areas of my life. Networking became easier. Talking about my business became easier. Public speaking became easier.

That’s what I want to help my client discover.

I’ll teach her how to film herself, think about lighting and sound, speak naturally to the camera and edit her own videos. But the real goal isn’t learning which buttons to press.

It’s becoming comfortable enough to press record in the first place.

Because sometimes learning to make videos isn’t really about video at all.

It’s about finding your voice.

Ray

This photograph is real. I know because I was there and took it!

Well, obviously I was there. I’m in it.

But there’s a serious point behind that.

The most deceptive AI images I see aren’t always posted by people pretending to be photographers. Sometimes they’re posted by photographers.

And that bothers me.

I’m not against AI. I experiment with it and I’m fascinated by what it can do.

What I have a problem with is AI generated imagery being posted without explanation, allowing people to believe it was photographed by them.

Photography has always involved editing. I edit my RAW files. I adjust exposure, colour and contrast. I might remove a distraction.

But the fundamental moment happened.

The person was there. The location was there. The light was there. Someone pressed the shutter.

AI changes that relationship.

If AI creates a person, replaces a location or generates something that never existed in front of a camera, I think we should say so.

Especially if we call ourselves photographers.

If you generated it, say you generated it.

If you photographed it, say you photographed it.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with creating AI imagery.

But allowing people to believe you photographed something you didn’t is something entirely different.

As AI becomes harder to spot, transparency matters more than ever.

Ray

From Portraits to Cake: My Next Live Photography Demonstration

For my last ten minute business presentation, I decided not to stand at the front of the room and simply talk about photography. I demonstrated it.

I photographed a portrait live, showing how a carefully placed light could take an ordinary picture and turn it into a professional business portrait. This Thursday morning, I am doing something different. I will be putting a cake on the table and demonstrating how I photograph food.

The aim is to build the image in front of the audience. I will show them what the cake looks like before I introduce my lighting, how the direction of that light reveals its shape and texture, and how a few considered changes can completely alter the finished photograph.

There will be no hiding behind a polished final image or a lengthy slideshow. Everyone in the room will be able to see the process as it happens.

Why photograph a cake live?

Food photography can look deceptively simple. Put an attractive cake on a table, point a good camera at it and surely the job is done.

It is not.

A beautifully made cake can still look flat, dull or unappetising if the light is wrong. The angle of the light affects the texture of the sponge, the sheen of the chocolate and the shape of every decoration. The position of the camera changes which details command attention. Even the choice of background can make the difference between a quick record shot and an image that makes somebody want to reach for a fork.

The chocolate cake pictured here is a good example of the style I enjoy creating. The light catches the surface and chocolate shards while the shadows add depth and atmosphere. It is not about making the food look false. It is about drawing attention to the details that make it worth eating.

Could a local cake maker help?

I am now looking for a local cake maker who would like to collaborate with me on Thursday morning near Chester.

I need one striking cake that will look good on the demonstration table. It does not have to be enormous or overly elaborate, but texture, layers or interesting decoration would give me plenty to work with under the lights.

In return, I will credit the cake maker and their business during my presentation to a room full of local businesspeople. I will also provide the finished photographs for them to use afterwards.

If you are a cake maker who would like to be involved, or you know someone whose work deserves to be photographed, please get in touch or send them this post.

If the worst comes to the worst, I will buy a mountain of fairy cakes, pile them onto an old vintage cake stand and make them look magnificent. That could be a useful demonstration in itself, but I would love to use the opportunity to showcase the work of a talented local cake maker.

Ray

Straight From the Garden

There is something deeply satisfying about seeing a table covered with food that was growing in the garden only a short time earlier.

This harvest of onions, courgettes and green beans has not been polished or arranged to look unnaturally perfect. The soil, papery onion skins, twisting stalks and different shapes are all part of its character. It is food as it really is, before it is trimmed, chopped, cooked and carefully presented on a plate.

We often encounter food at the final stage. A finished dish arrives at the table and we admire the colours, the presentation and, hopefully, the flavour. Yet every plate begins somewhere else. It begins with the ground, the weather and the patience of the person growing the ingredients.

Home grown produce also reminds us that uniformity is not the same as quality. A courgette may be larger than expected. One onion might grow slightly crooked, while another remains small. None of this matters when the ingredients are fresh, full of flavour and destined for the kitchen.

That is what attracted me to this scene as a photographer. It was not styled food photography in the traditional sense. There were no tweezers, carefully placed garnishes or elaborate lighting decisions. The story was already there in the abundance of the harvest, the warm colour of the onions and the contrast of the fresh greens.

Photographing food is about much more than making a finished dish look appetising. It is also about provenance, people and process. The ingredients themselves can tell us where a meal began and give us a stronger connection to what we eat.

Soon, these vegetables will be prepared and become part of something delicious. For this moment, though, they deserve to be seen just as they came from the garden: honest, imperfect and wonderfully fresh.

Ray

Before everyone arrives…

Every Thursday morning I photograph our networking meeting.

I’m not really looking for people smiling at the camera. I’m looking for the moments happening around the room.

People arriving. Conversations starting. Someone standing up to speak. Someone listening. Someone laughing.

An empty meeting room isn’t particularly interesting.

Fill it with people and suddenly there are stories everywhere.

That’s what I enjoy about photographing business events. It’s less about recording what the room looked like and more about showing what it felt like to be there.

Ray

From Inspiration to Interpretation

Time for a new portrait.

Some photographs aren’t planned. They begin with a feeling.

I’ve been listening to a lot of David Sylvian recently, and I found myself drawn back to the atmosphere of those old vinyl album covers. Rather than copying one, I wanted to explore what that mood looked like through my own lens.

The first frame stayed close to the original inspiration, but it didn’t feel authentic. So I kept experimenting, changing the pose, adjusting the light and refining the story.

Eventually, it became something completely different.

I imagined standing outside my front door, coat in hand, taking a quiet moment before the day begins. One light fired into an umbrella was all it took to create the final image.

For me, that’s what creativity is about. Inspiration can come from anywhere, but the most satisfying photographs are the ones that evolve into something uniquely your own.

Where do you find inspiration for your creativity?

Which portrait do you prefer?

Ray

#selfportrait

The Streets That Feed Chester: Why the Story Begins Before the Food

Most people think food photography is about photographing what’s on the plate. Beautiful presentation, perfect lighting and impeccable styling all play their part, but I’ve come to realise that the real story often begins long before the first dish arrives. Before I unpack my camera, I’m usually outside, walking the streets around the restaurant, taking in the architecture, watching people move through the area and trying to understand what makes that particular place feel unique.

That simple habit is what inspired The Streets That Feed Chester, a personal photographic project celebrating the cafés, restaurants, hotels and bars that give the city its character. Rather than concentrating on food itself, I wanted to photograph the places that create the anticipation of a meal. The buildings, the streets and the atmosphere all contribute to the experience before anyone has looked at a menu or sat down at a table.

Over the last few days I’ve photographed places such as Porta, Oddfellows, The Brewery Tap, The Chester Grosvenor, Artezzan, Cinderbox Coffee and Jaunty Goat. They couldn’t be more different from one another, yet each one tells its own story. Some are housed in centuries old buildings that immediately evoke Chester’s history, while others have a more contemporary feel, using clean architecture and large windows to invite people inside. Each venue leaves an impression long before food or drink enters the picture.

One photograph that particularly captures the idea behind the project shows people enjoying coffee outside Cinderbox Coffee while others stroll past Jaunty Goat. Nothing remarkable appears to be happening, yet the scene perfectly sums up what hospitality is really about. Friends are talking, strangers are passing, people are pausing in the middle of busy lives, and the street itself becomes part of the experience. Without those people, it would simply be a row of attractive buildings. With them, it becomes a place where memories are being made.

As a commercial photographer, I’m increasingly interested in telling stories rather than simply recording spaces. When I photograph a restaurant or hotel, I’m not just trying to create attractive marketing images. I want viewers to feel something before they’ve even visited. Great hospitality photography should communicate atmosphere, warmth and personality. It should make someone imagine themselves walking through the door and experiencing the place for themselves.

That’s why this project isn’t intended as a guide to the best places to eat in Chester, nor is it a series of restaurant reviews. It’s simply my way of celebrating the streets that give the city’s hospitality scene its identity. Every building has its own character, every street has its own rhythm and every photograph is another chapter in the story of a city that continues to inspire me whenever I pick up my camera.

The Streets That Feed Chester can be found across my social media channels, where I’ll be sharing a growing collection of black and white photographs celebrating the cafés, restaurants, bars and hotels that help shape Chester’s hospitality scene. I hope you’ll enjoy following the journey and perhaps discover a few places that tempt you to stop, look a little longer and maybe even step inside.

Here are a few images from the series.

It’s all theatre. Just on a smaller stage.

Every plate that leaves a professional kitchen tells a story before the first bite.

The chef has spent hours balancing flavours, textures and colours. Then comes the final act: the presentation. Every garnish is placed with purpose. Every element has its role.

My role is to light that plate in exactly the same way a stage is lit at Chester Storyhouse. The lighting guides your eye, creates atmosphere, reveals texture and makes the star of the show impossible to ignore.

Food photography should respect the craftsmanship that has gone into every dish.

I’m not there to reinvent it. I’m there to capture the anticipation, the care and the experience the chef has created, so someone scrolling online can almost imagine sitting at the table.

Great food deserves more than a quick phone snap.

It deserves its moment in the spotlight.

Ray

#FoodPhotography #HospitalityMarketing

An open letter to hotel and restaurant owners.

If you’ve ever wondered why you’re happy with your social media content, but still feel your food deserves better on your website, menus or advertising, there’s a reason.

Content creation and food photography are not the same thing.

Content creators have an incredibly broad skill set. They create videos, edit reels, write captions, manage social media and keep your business visible. That’s a huge job.

Food photography is different.

It’s a specialist discipline built around light, composition, colour, texture, styling and presentation. Every decision is made to make your dishes look every bit as exceptional as they taste.

That’s why I’m often called in by hotels and restaurants when content creation isn’t quite enough.

Not because their content creator has done a poor job, but because they’ve reached the point where they need specialist imagery. Photographs that become the hero images on a website, the centrepiece of a menu, or the focus of an advertising campaign.

Generalists bring breadth.

Specialists bring depth.

The best results rarely come from choosing one over the other. They come from bringing the right specialist in at the right time.

The photographs below are a small selection of the work I’ve created for hotels and restaurants that wanted their food to make people stop scrolling and start booking tables.

If your food deserves to look as remarkable as the experience you deliver, I’d love to help.

Ray

#FoodPhotography #Hospitality #HotelMarketing #RestaurantMarketing

Why Even the Most Confident People Feel Nervous in Front of the Camera

One of the things I've learned over the years is that confidence is often more situational than we realise.

I regularly photograph CEOs, comedians, team leaders and business owners. These are people who stand on stages, lead meetings and present ideas with apparent ease. From the outside, they look completely confident.

Yet, when it's time to have their photograph taken, many of them tell me exactly the same thing.

"I hate having my photo taken."

"I never know what to do with my hands."

"I'm not photogenic."

The nerves appear.

The truth is that being confident in one area of life doesn't automatically mean feeling confident in another. You can deliver a keynote speech to hundreds of people and still feel vulnerable when a camera is pointed in your direction.

I see it all the time.

Having photographed nervous wedding couples for many years, I learned very quickly that the camera itself isn't usually the problem. It's the fear of being judged, looking awkward, or not recognising yourself in the final images.

That's why so much of my job isn't about cameras, lenses or lighting.

It's about people.

It's about conversation, reassurance and helping someone settle into the experience. It's creating an environment where they can stop worrying about how they look and simply be themselves.

Because when that happens, something changes.

The forced smile disappears.

The tension eases.

The person their family, friends, colleagues and clients know begins to shine through.

I often say that your portrait gives your potential clients a handshake before you've ever met them.

Before someone reads your testimonials, picks up the phone or walks through your door, they've already formed an impression from your photograph. Does it feel approachable? Authentic? Trustworthy? Does it reflect the confidence and warmth you naturally bring to your work?

The best portraits aren't about making you look like somebody else.

They're about helping you recognise the best version of yourself.

So if you've been putting off updating your photographs because you don't feel photogenic, you're in very good company. Some of the most successful and outwardly confident people I've photographed have felt exactly the same way.

And that's perfectly normal.

If you'd like portraits that capture the real you, and help you show up with confidence before you've even said hello, I'd love to help.

Ray

Why Video Content Feels Different Today

There’s been a noticeable shift in how people respond to video online.

For years, businesses believed professionalism meant polished productions, scripted presentations, dramatic music and highly controlled environments. The thinking was simple: the more expensive and cinematic the video looked, the more trustworthy the business appeared.

But audiences have changed.

People consume so much content now that they’ve become incredibly good at spotting when something feels overly manufactured or disconnected from reality. In some cases, highly polished video can actually create distance between the business and the viewer because it immediately feels like advertising.

That’s one of the reasons simpler content is often outperforming expensive productions on platforms like LinkedIn, Instagram and TikTok.

People respond to personality.
They respond to honesty.
They respond to natural communication.

They want to feel like they’re hearing from a real person rather than watching a corporate presentation.

That doesn’t mean quality no longer matters.

In fact, I’d argue quality matters just as much as ever. Good lighting, clear sound, thoughtful framing and strong storytelling still make a huge difference. The difference today is that audiences want those things delivered in a more human and relatable way.

I learned video back in the 1990s, long before social media existed, and I’m genuinely grateful for that foundation because it taught me something important very early on:

communication matters more than equipment.

Today I create a lot of my own content. Sometimes I record on a phone. Other times I’ll use my mirrorless camera when I want more control over lighting or depth. But regardless of the equipment, the real challenge is understanding how the viewer needs to feel when watching.

That’s where photography and video become closely connected.

I’m a commercial photographer first, but over the years I’ve developed both skill sets and, to me, they’re deeply related disciplines. Both rely on understanding light, atmosphere, timing, composition and emotional response.

Both are about directing attention.

Both are about trust.

The businesses succeeding with video today are often the ones willing to communicate more openly and personally rather than hiding behind highly corporate messaging.

Ironically, that takes confidence.

A lot of people misunderstand authenticity and assume it means casual or careless content. It doesn’t.

Poor sound, weak lighting and rambling communication are not authenticity. They’re distractions.

The strongest modern content usually sits somewhere in the middle:
professional enough to hold attention,
human enough to build connection.

And I believe that balance is where modern visual communication is heading.

You’ve probably seen me on video somewhere online yourself. That alone says a lot about how powerful personal communication has become. A simple video recorded honestly can now reach thousands of people without needing a television crew or massive production budget.

The technology changed.

But human connection still matters most.

If Your Food Looks Average, It Is Average

Why This Matters More Than Ever

Luxury is no longer defined purely by price or location.

It’s defined by coherence.

From your interiors to your service to your online presence, everything must speak the same language. If your dining room feels refined but your photography feels casual or inconsistent, it creates friction.

And friction loses trust.

The Quiet Power of Getting It Right

When your imagery aligns with your food, something shifts.

You stop attracting everyone… and start attracting the right people.

Guests who understand value. Guests who appreciate detail. Guests who are willing to invest in an experience, not just a meal.

That’s where real growth happens.

A Final Thought

Your food already carries the story.

The question is whether you’re showing it properly.

Because in this market, being exceptional isn’t enough.

You have to be seen that way.

Ray

Business Portraits: The Other Side of My Lens

Most people come across my work through food, carefully crafted plates, rich textures, and the quiet story behind every dish. Food photography has long been a core part of what I do. But there’s another side to my work that’s just as important: business portraits.

Because behind every brand, every plate, and every business, there’s a person.

Over the years, I’ve worked with professionals who need more than just a “headshot.” They need images that reflect who they are, how they work, and what they stand for. Whether it’s a painter and decorator, a consultant, or a business owner, the goal is always the same: to create portraits that feel natural, confident, and real.

My approach to business portraits is shaped by my experience in food photography. Light, detail, and composition matter just as much when photographing a person as they do a dish. I look for the subtle things, the way natural light falls across a face, the environment that adds context, the small details that make someone recognisable and relatable.

I don’t overcomplicate it. No stiff poses. No forced expressions. Just honest, well-crafted images that people are proud to use across LinkedIn, websites, and social media.

Many of my shoots take place on location; workspaces, offices, or outdoors; where the surroundings help tell the story. And at this time of year especially, the natural light brings an added depth and warmth that you simply can’t replicate in a studio.

Food photography may draw people in, but business portraits are what connect them.

If your current images don’t feel like you anymore, it might be time to change that.

Ray

Are Photographers Artists Like Painters

Yes. They truly can be.

The idea that painters are somehow “higher” artists mostly comes from history, not from truth. Painting has had centuries to build prestige. Photography is younger, and because a camera is mechanical, people assume the machine does the work.

But a brush is also just a tool.

When Pablo Picasso painted, the paint didn’t make the art. His decisions did. When Leonardo da Vinci worked on a canvas, the power came from observation, composition, light, proportion.

Photography demands the same things.

Look at Henri Cartier-Bresson. He spoke about the decisive moment, that fraction of a second where geometry and emotion align. That is not mechanical. That is perception trained to a razor edge.

Or Cindy Sherman. She constructs identity, narrative and commentary through the camera in ways that hang comfortably in major galleries beside paintings.

The medium changes. The artistic act does not.

A painter builds an image stroke by stroke.

A photographer builds it through selection, timing, framing and light.

Both require vision. Both require taste. Both require restraint.

The feeling that one is “more artistic” usually comes from myth and tradition, not from substance.

Art is not defined by the tool.

It is defined by intention, interpretation and authorship.

If those are present, then yes, photographers are artists in the same sense painters are.

Ray

When a Headshot Becomes Brand Architecture

Some people love the camera.

Some people tolerate it.

And some would genuinely rather be anywhere else.

When Wayne Grisedale told me he doesn’t enjoy having his photo taken and rarely posts on social media, I knew this wasn’t about creating a “smiley headshot”.

It was about creating the right headshot.

Wayne is a web designer and SEO specialist. His new website, www.webdesignseo.com carries a strong black background throughout, so he wanted a portrait that felt seamless within that visual identity.

Black background.

Controlled light.

Confident expression.

No distractions.

When a portrait fits the brand, it doesn’t look like an add-on. It looks intentional.

We met at my cottage near Chirk and had a proper conversation over coffee about business, goals for 2026, and how we can support each other’s growth. That part matters. People relax when they feel heard, not posed.

The result? A portrait he feels comfortable using.

And for someone who doesn’t like being photographed, that says everything.

If your website is evolving, your imagery should evolve with it.

Your headshot isn’t just a photo.

It’s part of your brand architecture.

Ray

#portraits #business

Trends Fade. Craft Remains.

Recently I met with a food client to discuss visual direction for their brand. We talked about the nuances between high end dining and gastro pub presentation. Rustic versus refined. Dramatic versus generous. Every category has its own visual language.

And then we talked about filters.

It’s fashionable at the moment to apply a preset and let it “elevate” an image. One click and the photograph feels stylised, cohesive, contemporary.

But experience teaches you something important.

Filters change colour.

Carrots shift towards yellow.

Greens cool into blue.

Blacks lift into charcoal grey.

And once that happens, you’re no longer honouring the dish. You’re imposing a trend onto it.

In fine dining, colour is not accidental. A chef plates with precision. The tone of a reduction, the brightness of a herb oil, the exact shade of a purée against a white plate. These are deliberate decisions made after years of refinement. When we distort those colours for the sake of fashion, we dilute the craft behind them.

That does not mean style is irrelevant.

It matters deeply.

High end food may call for sculpted light, controlled contrast and a sense of drama. Gastro pub food might lean towards warmth, texture and abundance. The atmosphere should reflect the experience.

But that atmosphere should be built through lighting, composition and understanding, not layered on afterwards.

There is a clear difference between reacting to trends and leading with expertise.

My background is rooted in years of wedding photography. That environment teaches you one non negotiable rule very quickly: protect skin tone integrity. You do not alter someone’s complexion because a preset is fashionable. Respect for tone is fundamental.

The same respect applies to food.

Today my focus is portraits and food photography. Portraits because of experience. Food because of passion and a genuine love of fine dining.

Both disciplines demand precision.

Both demand sensitivity to tone, texture and light.

Both require presence rather than shortcuts.

The image below reflects that philosophy. Controlled light. Intentional shadow. True colour. No filter imposing itself over the chef’s work. The dish remains the hero.

Trends will continue to move. Presets will come and go. Algorithms will reward whatever is current.

Craft endures.

And longevity belongs to those who choose it.

Ray

Why Authentic Photography Matters More in the Age of AI

The more AI generated images I see, the more I find myself stepping back.

Not because the technology isn’t impressive. It is. It’s fast, technically sharp and endlessly inventive. With a few prompts, entire scenes appear. Light is perfect. Composition is flawless. There’s no waiting, no weather to contend with, no awkward gaps.

But that’s precisely the point.

There’s no waiting.

There’s no uncertainty.

There’s no human exchange.

Real photography asks something of you. It asks you to show up. To stand in the cold. To observe. To make decisions in real time. It demands that you respond to what’s actually happening rather than regenerate something more convenient.

Three weeks ago, I visited Llandudno on a cold Saturday morning. I walked along the promenade with my camera, not knowing whether anything meaningful would present itself.

This black and white image came from that walk.

The seagull swept into the frame without warning. I could hear its wings cut through the air. I could smell fish and chips drifting across the shoreline. The sea was still, the light soft but flat, the buildings watching over the bay as they have done for decades.

I didn’t generate that moment.

I noticed it.

And I committed to it.

That is the difference.

AI can simulate atmosphere. It can mimic grain. It can even imitate nostalgia. But it cannot stand on a beach and feel the wind change direction. It cannot sense the subtle shift in light before the shutter clicks. It cannot read the rhythm of a place.

Photography is not just about producing an image. It is about presence.

There is something else that concerns me. Increasingly, AI images are appearing on business profiles, particularly on platforms where trust should matter most. When an image is presented as a representation of reality but is entirely constructed, what story is really being told? If the visuals are fabricated, what does that suggest about the brand behind them?

In business, trust is currency.

Authenticity builds it.

As AI generated content floods our feeds, I believe something interesting is happening. Real, grounded photography begins to stand out more, not less. People start to look beyond polish. They begin to ask where an image came from. Whether someone was actually there. Whether the moment truly existed.

Because authenticity has texture.

It carries the weight of time, place and decision.

AI can generate images endlessly.

Photography creates meaning through presence.

And quietly, I believe that distinction will matter more and more.

Ray