Welcome back to another behind-the-scenes insight, where I take you past the final image and into the quiet decisions and problem-solving that shape the shoot.
My latest shoot involved a carefully arranged combination of ice and glass, photographed on both 4x5 and 8x10 film using different focal lengths to achieve slightly different looks between formats. The setup was designed to meet a specific visual and conceptual goal, but working with time-sensitive materials like ice under hot studio lights introduced challenges that required constant adjustment.
Rather than walk through every technical step, I want to focus this behind-the-scenes on one key factor that shaped the process: timing. Not just exposure time, but the kind that comes from observation, restraint, and knowing when to stop tweaking and commit to the frame.
Timing Wasn’t Just About Exposure
I made a conscious choice to use real ice for this shoot, with no acrylic stand-ins or plastic prop cubes. Those tend to catch light in a way that feels artificial, and while they’re convenient, they always look a little too perfect. I wanted the subtle chaos of the real thing; the way it cracks, melts, and softens around the edges. Something with tension, not polish.
The ice I used took 18 hours to freeze properly. Since I needed backups and options, prep started days in advance. Even with careful timing, it didn’t take long for the pieces to start sliding or softening under the lights. Some of them shifted just from being handled, and the moment each one came out of the mold, the countdown started.
Glass, on the other hand, doesn’t melt, but it reflects everything. You can’t just blast it with light. You have to shape and feather the lighting in a way that gives clarity without blowing out the form. Every angle mattered. Even small tweaks to the camera position or focus plane made a visible difference, especially when working with movements on large format.
I ended up taking twelve shots total, not a massive number, but more than I typically shoot when the concept is clear both in my head and in front of the lens. I shot a few extras this time because the environment was constantly shifting. Sometimes I’d frame something, lock it in, pull the dark slide, and realize the ice had moved just enough to lose the balance I’d built.
Some of that movement showed up in the negatives. A few frames had a slight softness to the ice, not from missed focus but from micro shifts as it melted during longer exposures. Visually, everything was locked in, but over the course of the exposure, things changed subtly enough to leave a trace. With film, you don’t get instant feedback. You commit based on what you see and know, even when the materials are doing something you can’t fully control.
And of course, with large format film, timing is baked into the tools. Every decision takes longer. You’re calculating bellows extension, adjusting for reciprocity, and committing to exposures that don’t give you feedback until days later. You move with precision, but you're always aware that the clock is ticking on the materials, the setup, and the patience of the entire process.
Knowing When to Let Go
Shoots like this come with a built-in limit. At some point, refining turns into chasing, and the more you push, the more likely you are to lose what made the frame work in the first place. Film doesn't give you the luxury of reworking. It forces clarity. You either get it, or you don’t.
Some of the frames landed exactly as I intended. Others shifted along the way. But I got the shots I needed. That’s what matters. It’s about recognizing what’s changing, adapting without hesitating, and letting the material meet you halfway.
I’ll share the final image in the next week or two, along with the decisions behind it, and a few surprises that only showed up once the film came back.
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