This past weekend, I wrapped up a photoshoot that required everything to come together in a specific way.
Some shoots come together in clean, linear steps. Others take two days of chasing a feeling, making moves before knowing exactly why. This was one of those.
Looking back, I can break it down. Three things were happening in real time:
The moment where an idea just appears, fully formed, without question.
The instant recognition of the right element, the ability to see it before understanding why.
The creative process as something that unfolds rather than being controlled, where the best decisions feel inevitable in hindsight.
But in the moment, none of that is conscious. There’s no breakdown, no analysis. Just movement. Just knowing.
For this article, I thought it’d be interesting to break down just one aspect of the shoot, finding the right fractured element within the concept. The concept itself was already there, something commercial yet artistic, different yet familiar. It had to feel intentional, but not forced; abstract, but still accessible. But it needed something specific to bring it to life. This is how that part of the process unfolded.
The table is covered in glass. Not a single sheet, different plates, bowls, fragments of past breaks. Some are too smooth, too symmetrical. Others have the right kind of edges but the wrong kind of presence. None of them are it.
I don’t need something whole, I need something fractured. The wrong piece wouldn’t just be a minor detail; it would throw off the entire balance. This wasn’t just about aesthetics, it had to feel intentional, like it belonged. But not just any break. The right kind of break. It’s not about destruction. It’s about precision hidden inside chaos.
I knew I’d recognize it when I saw it, but I couldn’t explain what I was looking for beforehand. It wasn’t a shape I could describe, only one I’d know once it was in front of me.
The idea isn’t a question. It isn’t debated or tested. It just appears. And once it’s there, I know I have to follow it. Not because I understand why but because there’s no other choice.
I pick up a glass piece. Feel its weight, the edge cool against my fingers. The last moment of control before everything changes.
And then I swing.
The sound cuts through the air, sharp, final. The pieces scatter. Edges jagged, uneven, unpredictable. Some slide under the table, some reflect light like frozen electricity. I scan the fragments. And then I see it.
Why that one? Couldn’t tell you. Doesn’t matter. Some pieces have presence. Some demand attention. Some already belong.
I pick it up. Turn it in my hand. The weight feels different, the shape inevitable. Light catches the edge. That’s it.
Some ideas you chase. Some ideas catch you first.
The glass was always going to break. I just didn’t know I’d be the one to do it.
Two days in, and the shoot is done. The pieces found their place. The choices were made themselves. That’s how it goes. Some steps are taken before you even realize your feet are moving.
In the end, this wasn’t just about finding the right piece, it was about refining the entire vision. The lighting had to interact with the fragments in a way that made them feel intentional, not random. The composition had to make sense within the larger story. And every element, even the unpredictable ones, had to serve the final frame. This wasn’t about creating a story, it was about crafting an image that spoke for itself, something striking on its own without needing an explanation.
That’s the part of BTS you don’t always see: the testing, the adjustments, the problem-solving that happens in real time. It’s not just about capturing a great image but about knowing when you’ve found exactly what was missing.
Sometimes, a shoot isn’t about following a perfect plan. It’s about recognizing the right move when it appears, even if you don’t understand why at first.
The final frames are locked in. The work is done. Looking at them now, that one perfect fracture doesn’t just belong. It feels inevitable. Some pieces don’t just fit; they define everything around them. You’ll see soon enough.
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