New to Photography? Scared of Flash? Why Your Natural Light Skills Are Your Secret Weapon
Scared of Flash? Why Your Natural Light Skills Are Your Secret Weapon
There’s a common hurdle in the journey of many photographers, a point where progress seems to hit a wall guarded by intimidating technology. For me, and perhaps for you too, that hurdle often takes the form of artificial lighting. Flashes, strobes, modifiers… they loom large, not just in our camera bags (or potential shopping carts), but in our minds. I remember vividly when I first truly confronted this. Flashes seemed inherently scary.
Shot with Natural Light.
Part of that fear, admittedly, was financial. As a photographer still finding my feet, not yet commanding significant fees, the leap felt enormous. Considering a lighting setup that could easily from $500 and push towards $4000 (especially here in Australia) felt like stepping into a different league, a serious investment that demanded serious results. Could I justify that cost? Would I even use it enough?
But beneath the practical worry about dollars and cents lay a deeper, more insidious fear: the fear of incompetence. It wasn't just about affording the gear; it was the nagging question, "Will I even know how to use it?" I genuinely worried that I didn't possess the secret knowledge required to make artificial light look good, natural, or intentional. My mind conjured images of harsh, deer-in-headlights results, confirming my suspicion that I simply didn't understand light properly. I felt stuck, wanting to grow but terrified of the tool that seemed key to unlocking the next level.
The Classroom I Didn't Realise We Were In
Here’s the revelation that changed everything for me: I was wrong. Not about flash being potentially complex, but about my own ignorance. The truth, I realised, was that I had already learned the basic fundamentals of lighting, in fact, in someway, we all have. For myself, I just hadn't learned them from a manual or a workshop labelled "Flash 101." I'd learned them from the best teacher there is: the sun.
Think about it. Every single time I’d picked up my camera before even contemplating buying a flash, I was making decisions about light. Without consciously labelling it, I was already developing preferences, understanding effects, and manipulating my surroundings to achieve a certain look.
“I already knew I loved the dimension and sculpting effect of side lighting. I’d instinctively position subjects near windows to catch that glancing light, noticing how it carved out features and created pleasing contrast. “
Direction is Everything: I already knew I loved the dimension and sculpting effect of side lighting. I’d instinctively position subjects near windows to catch that glancing light, noticing how it carved out features and created pleasing contrast. I knew that backlighting, while tricky, could create beautiful rim lights and dramatic silhouettes, separating subjects from their background. And I knew, often from less successful experiments, that flat, front-on lighting usually wasn't my preferred look, often feeling less dynamic.
Quality Matters: I understood the difference between hard and soft light intuitively. I knew that cloudy days were like nature’s giant softbox, providing beautiful, diffused, wrap-around light that was incredibly flattering for portraits. On other days, I might actively seek out the crisp shadows and high contrast of direct sunlight for a more graphic or dramatic feel. I learned to work with the quality of light available, whether seeking open shade on a harsh midday or chasing the warm glow of golden hour.
Instinctive Manipulation: Even without modifiers, I was already manipulating light. Moving a subject slightly, turning them towards or away from the source, using a white wall as a makeshift reflector – these were all foundational steps in light control.
“On other days, I might actively seek out the crisp shadows and high contrast of direct sunlight for a more graphic or dramatic feel.”
Captured with Natural Light at 1/8000th of a second at 100 ISO.
All those hours spent shooting in natural light weren't just about capturing moments; they were an intensive, practical education in the behaviour and aesthetics of light. I had developed an eye, an intuition. I understood what I liked and, broadly, how to achieve it using the available light source.
Connecting the Dots: From Sunlight to Strobe
The "aha!" moment was realising that a flash isn't some alien technology operating on different principles. It's simply a controllable light source. All that knowledge I'd painstakingly gathered from observing and reacting to the sun? It was directly applicable.
That side lighting I loved from the window? I could recreate it by placing my flash off-camera to the side.
That soft, flattering light from an overcast day? I could mimic it by firing my flash through a large softbox or umbrella.
That dramatic backlighting? Achievable by positioning the flash behind my subject.
Suddenly, flash wasn't about learning a completely new language; it was about learning how to command the elements I already understood. Natural light had taught me the 'what' and 'why' of light quality and direction. Flash, I realised, simply gave me the 'how,' 'when,' and 'where,' putting the control firmly in my hands, independent of the weather or time of day.
Flash + Ambient light captured with a 60 watt flash. 2019.
Embracing a New Role: The Photographer as Light Engineer
This shift in perspective reframed my entire approach. I wasn't just a photographer anymore; I was becoming an engineer of light. This concept, which resonated deeply, shifted the focus from fear to construction. Working with natural light often feels like finding the light, reacting to it, and making the best of what's given. Working with artificial light is about building the light, shaping it from scratch, manipulating its intensity, direction, colour, and quality to precisely match the vision in my head.
The flash unit itself, the modifiers (softboxes, umbrellas, grids, snoots), the stands, the triggers – these weren't scary alien objects anymore. They were the components, the raw materials for my light construction. My understanding of natural light principles became the blueprint. This engineering mindset acknowledged the complexity but framed it as a solvable challenge, a creative puzzle rather than an insurmountable wall.
Captured with 60 watt flash with white umbrella. 2020.
The Fear That Remains: Embracing the Process
So, fast forward to today. Do I still see flashes as scary? Honestly, truthfully? Yes… well, sort of. The raw terror of the unknown tool has largely dissipated through practice and understanding. But the act of creation itself, the engineering process, still carries a frisson of fear. What I find 'scary' now isn't the flash unit itself, but the inherent uncertainty that comes with trying to build something new from your imagination – the concept of the unknown outcome.
Captured with 60 watt flash with white umbrella. 2021.
An engineer designs and builds, meticulously planning, but inevitably encounters challenges and makes errors along the way. Stress tests reveal weaknesses, initial designs require iteration, unexpected problems arise. But crucially, all these 'errors,' these unexpected results, aren't failures in the engineering world. They are data. They are feedback. They contribute directly to the refinement and ultimate success of the final structure, the beautiful creation.
Captured with 500 watt flash with white umbrella. 2022.
Photography, especially when consciously building light, is no different. We plan the shot, set up our lights, take a test exposure… and maybe it's not quite right. Maybe a shadow falls awkwardly, maybe the light is too harsh, maybe the reflection is distracting. These aren't failures; they're the inevitable errors of the engineering process. They are prompts for adjustment, for trying a different modifier, a different angle, a different power setting. Each 'mistake' informs the next step, guiding us closer to the final vision.
Captured with 500 watt flash with white umbrella. 2022.
Facing the Fear is the Foundation of Greatness
To create, to design, to engineer light – whether found or built – is to constantly face that low-level hum of uncertainty, that scariness of the unknown result before it materializes. It’s about having the courage to plug everything in, take the shot, analyze the 'error,' adjust, and shoot again. It's embracing the iterative process.
That fear doesn't necessarily vanish entirely, but we learn to recognise it not as a stop sign, but as a signpost indicating we're pushing boundaries, trying something new, creating. And leaning into that discomfort, facing that specific fear of the unknown creative outcome, is precisely where growth happens. It truly is the key to developing your craft and, ultimately, achieving your own version of greatness.
Captured with 125 watt flash with 60cm octa softbox + ambient lighting. 2024.
So, if you're standing on the edge, intimidated by flash or any new creative tool, remember this: you already possess a wealth of knowledge from your experiences with natural light. Trust that foundation. Reframe the challenge as one of engineering, where iteration and 'errors' are expected parts of the process. Acknowledge the fear of the unknown, thank it for showing up, and then pick up your tools and start building anyway. You know more than you think, and you're ready to engineer your vision.