Why I Make Campaigns
- Thom Pierce
- Jan 15
- 4 min read
Updated: Mar 17
It's hard to cut through the noise as a photographer. The online world is full of images and everyone has a camera in their pocket. It turns out that developing a unique style, and standing out, isn't about photography at all.
Can you tell me what an Arnold Newman portrait looks like? or a Joel Meyerowitz street scene? What about a Sebastião Salgado documentary image?
I can.
I can picture them in my head, even if they aren't their actual photographs, I can explain the heart of them; the tones, the colour palette, the balance and composition. It's rare to be able to recognise the work of a photographer but it's what separates the great from the everyday.
Not only can I describe what their images look like, but I could also take a punt at telling you what each of them is passionate about.
Ask me what Mary Ellen Mark cares about, or Nan Goldin, and I can tell you. Ask me which artists inspired William Eggleston and I can take a pretty good guess.
One of the greatest compliments I have ever received was from a curator who told me that he could easily recognise my work and that, in a world saturated with photography, this was rare.
Technically, I probably do the same as many other photographers; my camera settings, equipment choices and lighting style are certainly not unique. But great photography isn't just a technical skill, it is shaped by a combination of your personal interests, values and viewpoints.
It is the purpose with which a photograph is taken that give it strength and meaning. It is the intention of the photograph that speaks volumes, much more than the depth of field.
When a subject that the artist is interested in is visually explored and presented in a way that engages others, that's when photography comes into it's own, that's when it becomes interesting.
Martin Parr hasn't been shooting idiosyncratic British seaside scenes for decades because he is interested in his camera, surely it is because he is obsessed with the world.
When a photographer focuses on what they care about, the look of thier work develops to support the story they are telling. The choices they make, both technically and aesthetically, are guided by the intention more than a conscious decision towards a particular look, and eventually form an integral part of thier unique voice.
I care about the people who don't have a voice, the people who suffer in silence because they don't know how to be heard. My passion is for everyday stories that need to be told; stories that build tolerance and empathy. Stories that are often considered boring and complicated, but vitally important.
My mission is to take those stories and make them accessible, understandable and compelling. To draw an audience in through photography and get them to care about someone else, if only for a minute.
My images are heavily lit because I want the person in them to be fully seen, and the subject is often in the centre of the frame because the image is about them. The colour palette is natural because these are documentary images and the people are serious because these are weighty issues that need to be reflected through them.
My environmental portraits are almost always taken from the same angle, eye level or slightly below, using a 35mm lens at f2.8 and a shutter speed of 1/250, with an external flash. None of this is a secret, it is all there in the metadata.
All of these decisions are intentional and serve the purpose of the work. Together they form my unique voice.
Using the same setup, another photographer's work won't look like mine, their voice will be different, their approach will be different, and their message will be different. And so it should be because their photography is a reflection of them.
When asked for advice I always tell them "find what you care about". Maybe it is abstract, or emotional or a particular subject matter. Maybe it is a social justice cause or an environmental movement. Perhaps it's just dogs, or orchids.
It doesn't really matter what it is, as long as they care about it enough to master the skills they need to tell the story. As long as they aren't trying to make it look like everyone else's images for likes or attention.
I stepped away from my voice for a while. I was scared and didn't know what to do with it. I needed to pay the bills and got sidetracked by trying to do something mainstream.
But what I realised very quickly is that nobody cared. Nobody wants another generic voice.
The times when people have paid attention to my work is when it has been true to what I care about. When I haven't worried about external validation; and the how's and why's of getting paid.
When I just make work that feels important it becomes my biggest marketing tool. Because nobody else can do it. Nobody else is me.
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