Marker Images and the Value of Vision
“Twilight Choreography” | London, England (2015)
If I look through my portfolio, I can find something meaningful about every image—otherwise, it wouldn’t be there. But some photographs rise above the rest. They serve as waypoints in my journey, marking either a turning point or the consolidation of a new phase in my development. I call these my “marker images.” In my previous post, I wrote about one. Here’s another.
This one was taken a decade ago during a business trip to London—six years before “Laced in Moss and Mist”. I can barely recall the business details of that trip, but the circumstances behind this image are crystal clear. That contrast, I think, says something about the value of pursuing a passion versus just doing a job.
From the moment the trip was confirmed, I knew I wanted to bring my camera gear. I scouted the area around our hotel and meeting locations using Google Maps, looking for points of interest. One in particular caught my eye: David Wynne’s 1973 statue Girl with a Dolphin. It’s a well-known subject, photographed countless times—what some photographers call a “honeypot” location.
On social media, you’ll hear plenty of opinions about such places. Some dismiss them entirely; others suggest “getting it out of your system” before seeking your own angle. At the time, I was still developing my skills and saw nothing wrong with testing myself against an iconic subject. I still don’t. My belief then, as now, is simple: follow what draws you in, regardless of its popularity or the opinions of others.
Test Image | Taken two hours before “Twilight Choreography”
We arrived in London at midday and went straight to business. The next afternoon, with meetings done, I set out to visit my pre-scouted spots. At St. Katharine’s Way, I circled the fountain, experimenting with perspectives before settling—yes—on the classic composition. Test shots showed promise but the low-contrast glare from the setting sun was too strong. I marked my tripod position, noted the light, and moved on.
Two hours later, I returned to find another photographer in my exact spot. Ouch. But instead of seeing it as an obstacle, I adapted. I shifted slightly, kept out of his way, and—unexpectedly—benefited from his presence. His flash setup acted as a fill light I didn’t own yet, and with careful timing, I incorporated it into my shot.
This image was no accident. It was the result of vision, planning, and preparation: virtual scouting, on-the-ground assessment, and the patience to wait for the right moment. It reinforced a lesson I carry to this day—that having a clear vision and preparing well greatly increases the odds of success.
That doesn’t mean spontaneity isn’t valuable. Most of my favorite photographs come from unplanned moments. But in this case, planning didn’t just pay off—it turned a “honeypot” into a personal milestone.
