Thoughts on the Term "Natural Light" Photography
Balancing Preference, Expertise, and Environment in Photographic Craft
As photographers, we have a wealth of terminology that defines our craft, our tools, and our artistic identities. One phrase that seems to come up time and again in the world of photography is "natural light shooter." It's an elegant term that undoubtedly resonates with many, conjuring images of soft sunlight spilling through a window or the golden hour's gentle glow. Yet, I can't help but feel that this terminology often reflects more than just an artisticpreference. It may, in some cases, reveal a photographer's comfort zone—or, dare I say it, a limitation in their technical repertoire.
Let me be clear: natural light is one of the most beautiful and evocative tools in a photographer's arsenal. It’s free, it’s abundant (when the weather cooperates), and it has an authenticity that artificial light, for all its versatility, cannot entirely replicate. Natural light is agift, one that we as photographers should cherish and use wherever possible. But herein lies therub: natural light is also as fickle as the weather, especially here in England, where cloudy skiesand unpredictable conditions are more the norm than the exception.
The term "natural light shooter" tends to be used with a sense of pride, and why not? Embracing the light that nature provides is a noble pursuit. However, I sometimes wonder if this label is more of a shield than a badge. For some photographers, it might suggest a preference born not from artistry but from a lack of familiarity with or mastery of flash photography. It is easy to romanticize natural light when it allows us to avoid the complexities of artificial lighting techniques. Mastering flash, with its nuances of power settings, modifiers, and syncing, does require time, patience, and a degree of trial and error. Yet, it opens up a world where light is no longer dependent on time, place, or atmospheric whimsy. It is a skill worth cultivating.
Speaking personally, my own approach to lighting is more pragmatic than purist. My preference begins with available light, provided it is of sufficient volume and quality to meet the demands of the moment. England’s often overcast skies can sometimes flatter a subject with their diffuse softness, but more often than not, the light is simply inadequate. In those cases, I turn to the tools at my disposal—reflectors or flags to emphasize or sculpt the light where needed, and finally, flash photography to take absolute control when the natural resources fall short. This tiered approach, for me, strikes a balance between harnessing the gifts of nature and leveraging the tools of technology.
Let’s not forget one critical truth about natural light: while it can be stunningly beautiful, it is rarely consistent. It seldom graces us with its presence when we need it most. How often have we planned a shoot around the golden hour only for clouds to obscure the sun at the last moment? How many weddings have been photographed under skies that seem perpetually on the verge of rain? And let’s not even start on winter in the UK, with its truncated days and perpetually grey skies. The unpredictability of natural light can be invigorating, but it can also be an impediment to creating the images we envision.
That said, I do appreciate the artistic philosophy that underpins natural light photography. There is something deeply satisfying about working with what the world gives us, about reading the light as it falls and adjusting our composition and settings accordingly. It is a skill that every photographer should hone, for it teaches us to observe and adapt, to work within constraints and still produce something extraordinary. But to rely solely on natural light is, in my view, to limit oneself unnecessarily. Photography is, after all, a medium of light, and to master the craft is to master both the light that is given and the light we create.
Perhaps the conversation should shift from "natural light shooters" versus "flash photographers" to simply "photographers who work with light." Such a reframing acknowledges that all forms of light—natural, artificial, or a combination of the two—are tools to be wielded in service of the image. It removes the hierarchical implication that one type of light is inherently superior to another and instead focuses on the photographer's ability to use light, in all its forms, effectively and creatively.
In conclusion, while I respect and admire those who champion natural light, I encourage all photographers to expand their toolkit. Learn to master flash, experiment with reflectors and
flags, and blend natural and artificial light when the situation calls for it. Photography is a craft of endless possibilities, and our ability to harness and shape light is what allows us to bring our visions to life. Let’s celebrate natural light, yes—but let’s not limit ourselves to it. After all, the weather, especially here in England, is rarely on our side. Why not be prepared to create brilliance, come rain or shine?