Mobile phone journalism

The camera was an iPhone. The result was BBC Breakfast.

I have just watched a TikTok about two BBC reporters who were sent to Rome for twelve hours.

They recorded the entire assignment using iPhones and small microphones. The footage was then edited into a report and broadcast on BBC Breakfast.

Think about that for a moment.

Footage recorded on a device millions of people carry in their pockets was considered good enough for one of the BBC’s flagship television programmes.

I’m a photographer, but I’m also a creative!

My interest in video did not begin with social media. I was recording video in the 1990s and remember editing it using Pinnacle. It was a much slower process than opening an app on a phone, but I loved taking separate pieces of footage and turning them into a finished story.

These days, I record my own promotional videos and show other people how to film themselves. The technology has changed enormously, but the creative thinking behind it has not.

You still need to recognise the story.

You still need to understand light, composition and sound.

You still need to know what to include, what to leave out and what you want the audience to feel.

As a professional photographer, I could easily feel threatened by the growing quality of mobile phone cameras. I have invested in professional cameras, lenses, lighting and years of experience.

But excellent phone footage does not make professional equipment or professional people redundant.

It reveals where the real value has always been.

The iPhones captured the pictures, but they did not decide what the story was.

They did not choose who to interview, recognise the important moments, compose the shots, listen for revealing answers or decide how the final piece should be structured.

The reporters did that.

The phone was the tool. Their judgement created the report.

That distinction matters because people often draw the wrong conclusion from examples like this.

They either say that expensive equipment is no longer necessary, or they dismiss phone footage as amateur.

Neither argument tells the whole story.

Professional cameras still offer greater control, better lenses, stronger performance in difficult conditions and much more flexibility. I would not abandon my Canon cameras and photograph every commercial assignment on my phone.

But an iPhone is now capable of producing remarkably good video when it is placed in the hands of someone who understands light, sound, composition, interviewing and storytelling.

The BBC example also underlines something many people overlook.

They used microphones.

People will often tolerate pictures that are not absolutely perfect, but poor sound can make even attractive footage difficult to watch. A simple microphone, thoughtful positioning and awareness of the surroundings can transform the result.

This is why I believe businesses need to stop thinking that video begins with buying more equipment.

Most business owners already own a camera capable of producing content that could represent them professionally.

What they often lack is the confidence to appear on camera, the ability to recognise a worthwhile story and the practical knowledge needed to record and edit it properly.

Buying another camera will not solve those problems.

An iPhone makes filming accessible. It does not make storytelling automatic.

A small business does not necessarily need a large production crew every time it wants to introduce a member of staff, explain a service, show how something is made or share a customer story.

Sometimes it needs an iPhone, a decent microphone, good light and somebody who knows what they are trying to communicate.

That is why I enjoy showing people how to film themselves.

It is not simply about teaching them where to position the phone or which button to press. It is about helping them become more comfortable on camera, recognise the stories inside their businesses and communicate those stories clearly.

I use professional cameras when an assignment requires them, but I also use my iPhone to create my own promotional videos and record business stories.

That is not lowering the standard.

It is choosing the appropriate tool for the job.

The standard should be judged by the finished result, not by the size of the camera used to create it.

Seeing iPhone footage broadcast on BBC Breakfast reinforces something I have believed for a long time.

Equipment matters, but it is rarely the thing holding people back.

The real barriers are confidence, clarity and skill.

If the BBC can send reporters to Rome with iPhones and microphones, a business can certainly begin telling better stories with the technology it already owns.

The question is no longer whether your phone is good enough.

The question is whether you know how to use it well enough.

Ray

#MobileJournalism #VideoContent #BusinessStorytelling #iPhoneVideo #ContentCreation

Who Would Have Known About My Life?

There was a time when being noticed was one of the last things I wanted. When I look at where I am now, it’s difficult to reconcile that with the person I became because of what happened at school.

I was outed before I’d even had the chance to understand what I was myself. Other people put a label on me first, and the bullying that followed made my secondary school years something I learnt to endure rather than enjoy.

Eventually, hiding became my way of coping. I withdrew from society and became something of a hermit, living with enormous anxiety and trying my best not to attract attention. Other people appeared to be getting on with life while I was concentrating on making myself as invisible as possible.

Then I did something with those memories that probably helped me carry on at the time. I buried them. For around 30 years, I tried not to think about what had happened at school. I thought I’d left it behind. Only recently have I realised that pushing something away for decades doesn’t necessarily mean you’ve dealt with it.

I’ve started revisiting those years, and with the memories have come feelings that I haven’t always found easy to accept. Sometimes I’m angry about what happened. Then I can find myself feeling guilty for being angry, as though I’m supposed to have reached an age where none of it should matter anymore.

I’m beginning to accept that both things can exist together. I can recognise how much those experiences affected me while refusing to let anger determine the rest of my life.

The feeling I struggle with most is the thought of what I might have missed. I wonder sometimes what choices I would have made without all that anxiety. Would I have met different people? Taken more opportunities? Lived differently if my first instinct hadn’t so often been to retreat? There are no answers to those questions, and there never will be.

What matters to me now is what is beginning to happen at the other end of that story.

I’m at last finding success in business. I’m putting myself into situations that the younger version of me would probably have done almost anything to avoid. Instead of trying not to be noticed, I’m learning how to be visible.

One of the ways I’ve been doing that is by standing in front of a camera and filming myself. It was uncomfortable because it went against years of instinct. But the more I’ve done it, the more I’ve understood that confidence wasn’t something I needed to find before pressing record. It developed through repeatedly pressing record.

I’ve learnt to stop demanding perfection from myself. I can forget a word. I can pause. I can stumble and carry on. I don’t need to turn into a performer just because there’s a camera pointing at me. I can simply be myself.

Perhaps the most unexpected part of all this is that I’m now beginning to help other people do the same thing.

I’m showing people who lack confidence on camera how to film themselves and become more comfortable being seen. I’m encouraging them not to hide behind perfection or believe they need to become somebody else when the camera starts recording. In many ways, I’m teaching them the same process I’ve been going through myself.

There’s something significant about that. I spent years trying to disappear, and now I’m deliberately putting myself in front of a camera and helping other people find the confidence to do it too.

I’m also speaking more, meeting people, developing my business and deliberately walking towards situations I once would have avoided. That old instinct to hide hasn’t simply vanished, but I’m challenging it rather than automatically obeying it.

I don’t want to rewrite my past and pretend those school years didn’t have consequences. They did. Nor can I go back and give my younger self the adolescence he might have had without the bullying. I’ll never know what a different version of my life would have looked like.

But those people don’t get to own the rest of the story.

Perhaps dealing with my past isn’t about forgetting it, pretending it didn’t matter or even forgiving the people responsible. Perhaps it’s about finally acknowledging what happened, understanding how it shaped me and choosing not to spend the years ahead hiding because of it.

They took enough from me.

They don’t get what comes next.

Ray

Introducing My Fine Art Dog & Horse Portraits

I’ve always believed that the photographs we choose to put on our walls should mean something to us.

For me, this one certainly does.

Meet Alfie.

Introducing My Fine Art Dog & Horse Portraits

I’ve always believed that the photographs we choose to put on our walls should mean something to us.

For me, this one certainly does.

Meet Alfie.

I’ve photographed him countless times over the years, but I wanted something different. I wanted a portrait of him that didn’t simply look like a photograph of my dog. I wanted something that felt timeless, with depth and character, and ultimately something I would be proud to have hanging in my home.

That became the starting point for my new Fine Art Animal Portraits, created for dogs and horses.

It starts with character

Every animal has a character of their own.

Some dogs are calm and dignified. Others won’t sit still for more than three seconds. Some are inquisitive, some serious and others seem determined to make the entire session as difficult as possible.

Horses are no different.

Their character can be found in the smallest things. The position of an ear, the turn of the head, the expression in an eye or simply the way they hold themselves.

I don’t want to photograph that character out of them.

The aim is to create a portrait that still feels unmistakably like your dog or horse, but presented in a much more considered, artistic way.

Alfie was my first.

I photographed him against a simple black background before carefully working on the portrait afterwards, building the dark tones, texture and painterly quality you see in the finished image.

I’ve now taken that same approach into my horse portraits.

The simplicity is deliberate. There are no elaborate sets or distracting props.

Just the animal.

Created for the wall, not the phone

This is quite different from the way many photography sessions are sold.

I won’t be offering collections of full resolution digital files.

Each commission is created with one purpose: to produce a finished piece of fine art for your home.

There will be just three sizes.

One carefully selected mount.

One signature frame.

Each portrait will be professionally fine art printed, mounted, framed and supplied ready to hang.

A low resolution digital copy of your chosen portrait will also be included so you can share it online, but printable high resolution files won’t be supplied.

I want the finished artwork to remain exactly as I intended it to be seen.

Why dogs and horses?

Because the animals that become part of our lives deserve more than thousands of photographs sitting on our phones.

With dogs, that relationship might span years of walks, routines and companionship.

With horses, the relationship can be just as personal. Owners know every expression, every habit and every tiny detail that makes their horse theirs.

That is what I want these portraits to preserve.

Not simply what they looked like.

Who they were.

One portrait.

Beautifully printed.

Beautifully framed.

And hanging somewhere you’ll see it every day.

Fine Art Dog & Horse Portraits by Raymond Jones Images.

More details will be coming soon.

My Public Speaking Journey: When the Nerves Start to Get Out of the Way

Another presentation done and dusted, and what a difference. I’ve been deliberately pushing myself with public speaking because I’ve learnt that confidence doesn’t suddenly arrive before you do something. For me, it has been developing by repeatedly putting myself in situations where I have to stand up, speak and trust myself.

One of the things I wanted to work on this time was pausing. When nerves take over, there’s a temptation to fill every second with words, speak faster and almost race towards the finish. This time I consciously slowed things down and gave people time to take in what I was saying. More importantly, I gave myself time to think about what I wanted to say next. I had notes with me, but they stayed safely tucked away in my pocket throughout the entire presentation. Knowing they were there was enough.

Something else has started happening as my nerves have reduced: my humour is coming through. I love getting people to laugh, and I’m beginning to realise just how much my nerves used to suppress that side of me. When I was nervous, so much of my attention was devoted to remembering what I wanted to say and worrying about how I was coming across that there wasn’t much room left for spontaneity. Now I’m relaxed enough to react to the room, make observations and let my personality become part of the presentation.

For my previous presentation, I demonstrated how I photograph people. This time I decided to take everyone into another part of my work: food photography. Rather than simply showing a collection of finished photographs, I wanted people to see how those photographs are actually created.

I photographed a chocolate cake live, talking through my thought process, lighting choices and camera angles as I worked. My camera was tethered to my laptop, which was connected to the large screen in the room, so everyone could watch the photographs appearing as I took them. They could see what happened when I changed something and, more importantly, understand why I was changing it.

That’s one of the things I enjoy most about demonstrating photography. The finished image doesn’t simply happen because you own an expensive camera. It comes from a series of decisions about light, angle, composition, exposure and what you want the viewer to notice. Being able to make those decisions while explaining them to a room full of people was also a great test of my own knowledge. When you’ve been doing something for years, explaining why you do it makes you think about your own process differently.

I also received some valuable feedback from my team afterwards, which I’ll take into my next presentation. Becoming a better speaker isn’t about finishing a presentation and deciding I’ve cracked it. There will always be something I can improve, and every time I stand up in front of a room I learn something new.

Perhaps the biggest change is that public speaking is gradually becoming less about controlling my nerves and more about communicating with the people in front of me. I’m pausing more, thinking more clearly, making people laugh and, perhaps most importantly, I’m actually starting to enjoy myself. The nerves haven’t completely disappeared, but they’re taking up far less space, which is allowing more of my personality to come through.

A huge thank you to Red Rose Cake Company for supplying the mouthwatering chocolate cake for the demonstration. You can find them at www.redrosecakeco.com. And thank you to everyone who watched, laughed and gave me feedback afterwards.

Another presentation completed, another lesson learnt, and another step forward in my public speaking journey. Here’s to the next one.

Ray

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

How I Photographed Martha and Her Beautifully Restored Pianos

When people see the finished photographs, it’s easy to assume the shoot was straightforward. In reality, this was one of those sessions that required plenty of planning, problem solving and a little creativity.

Martha from Restore and More Piano Services specialises in restoring beautiful pianos, and my goal was to create a collection of images that reflected the quality of her craftsmanship.

The biggest challenge was space.

The workshop was extremely tight, making it difficult to photograph a grand piano from the angles I wanted. To add to that, we were in the middle of a heatwave, so working around large studio lights and moving equipment in such a confined space was uncomfortable to say the least.

Rather than compromise on the final result, I used composite photography techniques. By combining several photographs, I was able to create clean, polished images that show each piano at its very best while keeping everything looking natural.

Once we’d finished photographing the pianos, we stepped outside for Martha’s portrait. I took my studio lighting outdoors so the portrait would have the same style and quality of light as the piano photographs. Although they were taken in completely different locations, the consistent lighting helps the entire collection feel connected.

One of my favourite details from the shoot was the incredible wood grain, elegant curves and craftsmanship of the restored Bechstein piano. These are the details that deserve to be seen, and careful lighting brings them to life.

Commercial photography is often about far more than pressing the shutter. It’s about solving problems, controlling light and creating a set of images that tells a consistent story about a business and the people behind it.

A huge thank you to Martha for trusting me to photograph both her beautiful work and the passion that goes into restoring these remarkable instruments. It was a pleasure to spend the day with someone who cares so deeply about preserving these pianos for future generations.

Ray

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

“I Hate Having My Photo Taken” — Why So Many People Feel This Way

“I hate having my photo taken.”

It is probably the phrase I hear more than any other, and what surprises me is who says it. Business owners, consultants, accountants, solicitors, chefs, and directors regularly tell me this, despite often being the people who need professional photographs the most.

These are people who need photographs for websites, LinkedIn profiles, speaking events, marketing campaigns, networking, and press coverage. Yet many arrive convinced they will hate the experience.

After photographing people for years, I have realised something important. The problem is rarely photography itself. The problem is fear.

Many people believe they are simply not photogenic, but usually what they really mean is that they do not know what they are supposed to do. They worry about where to look, what to do with their hands, whether they will stand awkwardly, or whether they will look strange.

These concerns are completely normal.

Most people are not uncomfortable because of cameras. They are uncomfortable because being photographed makes them feel exposed.

Photography can feel surprisingly vulnerable. You are standing in front of somebody whose entire attention is focused on you, and for many people this creates an endless stream of thoughts.

What if I look old?

What if I look tired?

What if everyone notices my flaws?

What if I hate every photograph?

People often arrive expecting judgement when what they actually need is reassurance and guidance.

Photography is not simply about pressing a button. Technical skills matter, of course. Lighting matters. Composition matters. Camera settings matter. However, none of these things matter very much if the person standing in front of the camera feels uncomfortable.

A large part of my job is creating an environment where people stop thinking about being photographed and start being themselves.

When that happens, something changes. Shoulders relax. Expressions soften. Conversations flow more naturally. People stop performing and begin looking more like themselves.

That is usually when the best photographs happen.

You do not need to be photogenic.

You need somebody who understands people.

Because confidence photographs far better than confidence being forced.

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