It's pretty, but is it useful?

You know that feeling when you're scrolling through Instagram and suddenly stop? There it is, a jaw dropping photo of the most gorgeous burger you've ever seen, or maybe a cocktail that looks like it belongs in a magazine. The lighting hits just right, every garnish is placed with surgical precision, and it's honestly kind of mesmerising.

You double-tap. Maybe you even save it. But what happens after that double-tap? What's that beautiful photo actually supposed to do?

This is where things get interesting, and where I've learnt there's a real divide between taking photos that wow people and taking photos that actually work for a business.

The Instagram trap

Here's a conversation I had with a restaurant owner last month. She'd hired a photographer who created some fantastic images, you'd check them out if they were in a gallery. Every single inch of the frame was filled with food, props, and perfect little details. They were by all accounts, incredibly 'Instagrammable'.

But when she tried to use them for her website? She was at a loss. There was nowhere to put her logo. No space for "New Menu Item" or even basic contact information. Those gorgeous, busy compositions that looked so impressive suddenly became completely unusable for what she actually needed.

It hit me then how often this happens. We get so caught up in making something that looks incredible that we forget to ask 'will this actually work when someone needs to use it?'

The space between

Here's where I feel my background in graphic design really kicks in. When I'm behind the camera, I'm not just thinking about this moment, this single shot. I'm thinking about where this photo is going to live. Will it need to work as a square post? A story? Maybe it's going on a website banner where text needs to fit somewhere? A flyer?

I've started calling it "breathing room." Not empty space for the sake of it, but thoughtful space that gives the photo room to do its job later. Sometimes it means pulling back a bit when my artistic side wants to fill every corner. Sometimes it means thinking about how the main subject will look when someone crops it for different platforms.

It's sometimes a bit like being a photographer and a fortune teller at the same time (I have to imagine all the ways this image might need to work in the future).

When pretty meets purpose

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love artistic photography. Some of my favourite photographers create images that are pure art. There's something truly magical about images that exist purely to be beautiful, and I have massive respect for photographers who master that craft.

But when someone's paying me to help their business, my job shifts into a different gear entirely.

Take food photography. An artistic shot might focus on the entire dining experience, the atmosphere, the whole scene. But a commercial shot? I'm thinking about whether that burger looks so good it makes someone's stomach rumble. Does the cheese look melty? Can you almost taste how crispy those chips are?

I want someone to look at that photo and immediately think, "I need to be there. I need to try that." It's not enough to make them pause their scrolling, I want to make them pick up their phone and make a booking.

The details that matter

This shift in thinking changes everything about how I approach a shoot. The lighting isn't just about creating mood anymore (although that's still important). It's about making sure the product looks its absolute best. The composition isn't just about visual balance, it's about guiding someone's eye exactly where the client wants it to go.

I find myself asking different questions now. Does this angle show off the product's best features? If this goes on a website, will people understand what they're looking at immediately? Does this photo feel like it belongs with this brand, or does it feel like it could be for anyone?

The real test

Here's how I've started evaluating my own work; I ask myself whether the photo makes me want to buy whatever I'm looking at. Not just admire it, not just think "that's nice," but actually reach for my wallet (who carries a wallet these days? You get the point though).

If I'm shooting a new coffee blend, I want the steam rising from the cup to look inviting. I want the rich colour of the coffee to jump out. I want someone to look at it and think about how that first sip would taste on a Tuesday morning when they really need it.

Finding the balance

The funny thing is, I've discovered that thinking this way hasn't made my photos less beautiful. If anything, they've become more focused, more intentional. When every element in the frame has to earn its place, you end up with images that are both gorgeous and genuinely useful.

I'm not saying one approach is better than the other - they're just different tools for different jobs. Artistic photography moves people, inspires them, makes them see the world differently, it's perfect for things like recipe books for example. Commercial photography does that too, but with a very specific, hybrid end goal in mind.

So when you're looking for someone to photograph your business, definitely look for a portfolio that catches your eye. But also ask yourself 'do these photos make you want to take action? Do they leave room for the message you need to share? Do they feel like they're working as hard as they are beautiful?'

Because at the end of the day, the best commercial photo is one that does both.