Most photographers do not get creatively stuck because they stop shooting. They get stuck because their process becomes too efficient.
That is where we were. Then I heard this quote by the art critic Jerry Saltz, and it unlocked something. This was the quote.
“Art is slow, physical, resistant, material; it involves an ongoing commitment to doing the same thing differently over and over again.”
— Jerry Saltz
Our sets were working. The images were working. The system was dialed in. But somewhere along the way, the ideas started to feel boxed in—literally. We kept building the same types of sets over and over again. Boxes. Clean lines. Rectangles. They photographed well. They were reliable. But they also started to feel familiar in a way that limited us. We knew that staying inside those familiar structures was slowly narrowing the way we were thinking about our photography.
David is the builder. I am the photographer. And together, we could feel that our process had become a little too comfortable.
We were not tired of making. We were tired of building boxes.
When Familiar Structures Start to Feel Limiting
Most of our sets live inside some version of a box: flats, walls, floors, ceilings. For a long time, that structure served us really well. But eventually, we realized we were tired of building boxes—not because they stopped working, but because everything started to feel the same.
And that feeling is familiar to a lot of photographers. You can be busy, productive, even successful, and still feel boxed in creatively. The process becomes reliable, and before you realize it, you start to feel bored and uninspired by something that used to push you creatively.
We knew we needed to break the box—literally.
At first, we tried to design something completely different. Nothing landed. Then the idea flipped. What if we did not abandon the box, but warped it? What if the walls curved inward, like the space itself was squeezing the subject?
Once that idea was sketched out, everything clicked.
Letting Materials Lead the Design
The biggest challenge was structural. The walls and floor needed to bend, but they also needed to support a human body. That led us to bendy plywood, essentially luan with the grain running in one direction so it can curve.
The floor was the hardest part. It required extensive bracing to hold the model’s weight without collapsing. When everything finally came together, the effect was exactly what we hoped for. The walls felt like they were squeezing inward. The floor subtly lifted.
This was not a look we could create in post. The tension, compression, and distortion had to exist physically in front of the lens for the posing to feel believable.
Shooting for Exaggeration, Not Digital Distortion
From the start, lens choice mattered. Every build decision was made with the final camera angle in mind. The plan from the beginning was to shoot this set with the Canon RF 10–20mm f/4 L IS STM because it exaggerates perspective, makes spaces feel much larger, and corrects fisheye distortion.
We shot the set two ways. First, from farther back so it read almost like a framed photograph. Then, from inside the set, pushing the camera past the walls. Once the camera crossed that threshold, everything stretched and elongated in a way that amplified the tension.
Color, Conflict, and Control
The color palette came from a thrifted dress. That yellow-green that sits right on the edge of agreement: Is it green? Is it yellow? That tension felt right for a set about control and discomfort.
We paired it with gold paint, which quickly became an obsession. The stripes were another intentional choice. We wanted as many leading lines as possible to accentuate the curves of the set.
Stripes are tedious: measuring, taping, repainting. But this project demanded patience, and resisting that process would have undercut the concept entirely.
Directing Emotion Inside an Unstable Space
Once the model stepped into the set, everything changed. Even holding a basic pose felt difficult. That physical discomfort became part of the story.
The narrative was about control—about being placed into a space you did not choose and having to adjust your body and emotions to survive inside it.
We started with simple poses so the model could acclimate, then gradually pushed into more intense, distorted positions. As a photographer, I have found that giving models specific emotional scenarios produces stronger, more repeatable results than vague direction, especially in physically demanding sets like this.
Frustration. Boredom. Panic. Resistance. The walls are closing in, and you are fighting back.
That specificity is what made the images feel alive.
Why This Set Mattered More Than the Final Images
The final images were surreal and trippy, exactly what we hoped for. But the real value of this shoot was what it unlocked creatively.
We did not invent a brand-new process. We did the same thing differently. We changed the material. We changed the shape. We let the resistance of the build guide the idea instead of fighting it.
For us, this set was not about novelty. It was about adjusting one variable in a familiar photographic process and letting that shift ripple through composition, lens choice, direction, and emotion.
If you are feeling creatively stuck as a photographer, the answer might not be more inspiration. It might be a new piece of gear, a method of shooting, or a material constraint that forces you to see differently through the camera.
Before your next shoot, it can help to pause and ask a few simple questions: What part of your process feels most automatic right now? What constraint have you been avoiding because it feels inconvenient or inefficient? If you changed one physical element—a material, a space, a lens, or even how the subject interacts with the environment—what might that unlock? Creative growth does not always come from adding more. Sometimes it comes from putting gentle pressure on what already works.
That is where this set came from. And honestly, that is where some of the best work starts.
Check out the YouTube video to see the full set build and a behind-the-scenes look at the shoot.
4 Comments
Jada, that Jerry Saltz quote is the perfect anchor for this.
I spent a years in documentary and journalism perfecting 'efficiency.' In that world, efficiency is how you survive the deadline, but as you’ve discussed, it’s also a creative cage. When the process becomes a reflex, the eye stops searching and starts merely recording.
You warped a literal box to regain your 'Presence.' In my Amsterdam residencies, we do the same thing with the city itself. We take the rigid, familiar geometry of the canals and the 'boxes' of the Dutch hofjes and treat them as a stage for human narrative.
Your point about lens choice (the 10-20mm) and the physical discomfort of the model is a great reminder that a 'Visual Signature' isn't something you find—it’s something you author by putting pressure on the frame until it breaks the familiar.
Cheers for championing the idea that the best work starts when we stop being 'comfortable' and start being intentional
I'm so glad that quote resonated with you. It really stuck with me too.
And I completely agree with you about efficiency becoming a creative cage. It’s such a valuable skill in certain contexts, but it can quietly shift the process into autopilot if you're not careful.
What you’re doing in Amsterdam sounds amazing. Using the structure of the canals and the hofjes as a stage for human narrative is such an interesting way to blend street photography with architectural photography. Breaking the familiar really is everything. I loved the way you put that.
That’s honestly one of the things I love most about photography. You get to take the world as it is and manipulate it just enough to help people see it differently.
Really appreciate your thoughtful feedback and you taking the time to read the piece.
Thanks for a great article that discussed an issue that many of us struggle with.
I sometimes - but not often - feel this way about the way I photograph wildlife.
But wildlife has a built-in way of keeping things fresh and new automatically. Wildlife photographers are continually finding new subjects to shoot. And we're finding them in different habitats.
So I may be photographing Harlequin Ducks on a rocky shoreline along the Atlantic coast, and then a week or two later be photographing Whitetail Deer in a wooded river bottom in the north woods of Minnesota.
So the constant change of subjects and the constant change of venue really does go a long way towards staving off that issue of creativity stagnancy.
By the way, I'm curious .....
In the photoshoot you featured in the article, were the model's clothes really exactly the same color of the set? Or did you use a computerized editing program to make the colors match so perfectly?
Wildlife photography really does have such a natural variety built into it. When we were at Imaging USA this year I sat in on the wildlife judging portion of the photography competition, and wow. The level of skill it takes to consistently document those kinds of moments is incredible.
I love that you noticed the dress and the set color too. Yes, they really are the same color. We found the dress first and then matched the paint color of the set to it. No color matching in post.
It felt like a fun way to push that idea of blending the subject into the environment and letting the shape of the body and the form of the pose become the focus instead of the clothing itself.
Thanks for taking the time to read the article and share your thoughts!!