How to Develop Style in Outdoor Photography

Words and Images by Erin Babnik

Nonetheless, most appreciators of outdoor photography do eventually recognize stylistic traits among the photographers that they follow. Style can be subtle, but it always has the power to make images especially personal, memorable, and meaningful. Therefore, anyone who looks to nature for their subjects can gain a lot from understanding the full depth of their own stylistic contributions to a photograph and how they can combine to make any image truly their own.

What Is Style?

In order to identify the ingredients of style, it is first helpful to understand the difference between style and stylization because they are often conflated. The results of stylization tend to be especially superficial, conspicuous, or contrived, typically departing from naturalism through some treatment that grabs attention easily.

In outdoor photography, stylized mannerisms could include the use of light painting, non-traditional lenses, special effects filters, or emphatic post-processing techniques. A stylized image therefore registers the “hand” of the maker quite strongly, showing a high level of intention that few viewers will overlook. Conversely, the realm of style is simply the convergence of decisions in any given case, and those decisions could amount to a very naturalistic presentation.

Whereas stylization might be a feature of a photographer’s style, it is not a necessary component of style. Style is not always emphatic or even appealing, so it is a common misconception that only highly recognizable or laudable approaches to image-making will ever result in the development of a personal style. As David Bayles and Ted Orland put it in their book, Art & Fear: “Style is not an aspect of good work, it is an aspect of all work. Style is the natural consequence of habit.” This point is essential to understanding how style evolves and can become an inherent quality of an image.

The Elements of Style

So, what does style look like and how can we identify it? Using the idea of a living, breathing body as a metaphor for style can be quite instructive in trying to pin down such a slippery subject, so I will present the basics within this framework. It is probably impossible to enumerate all elements of style, but they generally cluster together into three functional categories that correlate nicely with the bones, the skin, and the soul of a human.

#1 BONES (Outdoor Locations and Conditions): These are the basic elements that a photographer may seek out that give a photograph its subject and timing, two essential qualities of an outdoor photograph that all other decisions either treat or enhance. Deciding where to go and when to photograph are fundamental creative decisions that can factor into the habits that constitute a style.

#2 SKIN (Composition and Effects): With regards to photography, the “skin” of an image is comprised of decisions that affected any characteristics of form or light that a scene presents. Composition is paramount in this category, but photographic techniques or post-processing can also affect the appearance of form and light. In-field possibilities include stylized options such as those listed above as well as more traditional effects, such as stopping down to create a sunstar, choosing long exposures to change the forms of moving elements, or using a polarizing filter to control reflections. Of course, post-processing offers endless possibilities for editing the appearance of both form and light. Most photographers develop preferences and habits in their approaches to composition, technique, and processing, and these habits can become hallmarks of personal style.

#3 SOUL (Mood and stories): Photographs certainly have the power to express a mood or suggest a story. Some photos tend toward exuberance while others express melancholy. Some images seem to put features of a scene in dialogue with each other like characters on a stage. Moods and stories in photographs have a range of expression that includes the entire spectrum of human emotions and experiences. When photographers see beyond the literal to favored themes or metaphors, they often find ways to express them in an image, and many types of creative decisions can play a role in bringing them out. These decisions overlap with everything mentioned in the other two categories, from planning through to field work and editing, but when they combine as conveyors of meaning they give a photo its soul. When that soul comes about through habits, it’s an element of style.

My Own Stylistic Habits

After spending more than a decade as an art historian, it became impossible for me to approach an outdoor scene without the urge to interpret it through metaphors. Interpretation is a core practice of art historians, and the study of it forever changed how I see the world.

Now, without any conscious effort, every tree or mountain reads as an abstract figure in a setting. Every change in light is a shift in mood. Far from being an affliction, this mentality makes photography especially fun for me, allowing imagination and education to play roles in a process that is otherwise quite impulsive, with technical matters providing the only other stimulating challenges.

Of course, physical challenges are plentiful outdoors, but they sap my energy rather than stoking it, so sometimes the joy of interpretation keeps motivation high when all else is wearing me down. In my case, the third realm of style described above—the “soul” of the image—is typically what drives the other two categories.

Themes of mystery, romance, exuberance, endurance, revelation, and gravitas are frequently in rotation in my work, often in favored combinations with subject matter. Before I even choose a destination or subject, I probably have a theme or two in mind that I associate with an environment or an aesthetic, something that makes a destination particularly evocative.

Themes might evolve or change significantly upon encountering something unexpected, but they tend to precede any interest in specific locations or monuments, a priority that might seem backwards to some people. Even in the uncommon event that I’m in a location randomly, it is often the ambiance of a place that gives direction to deeper exploration. Therefore, the “bones” and “skin” of my images owe more to themes, moods, and stories than they do to anything else.

Atmospheric Effects

For example, a high percentage of my photos feature misty conditions and atmospheric effects. When ephemera obscure or magically emphasize parts of a scene, the result can lend a distinct sense of mystery to even the most familiar places. Reveling in such moments has become a distinct stylistic trait for me, one that I have forged in the heights of mountain ranges, in the depths of sandstorms, and in the churning froth of powerful waterfalls.

Through the effects of atmosphere, my images often omit any level of description that might orient a viewer to a location very clearly. Indeed, it is not the location but the mystery, the romance, the exuberance, or the gravitas of a scene that I typically wish to emphasize. The love of these themes leads me to the locations more often than the reverse process.

Consequently, my compositional habits formed in the service of these interpretive tendencies. I studied composition extensively as an art historian, but mostly through analysis that helped to support the study of meaning in a given work. These two realms are therefore inseparable for me. Because my specialty was ancient sculpture, I am all the more prone to seeing outdoor features as abstract sculptural groups and to seek out compositions that put features “in dialogue” with one another.

After years of photographing in this way, it is now easier to look back and see the threads running through a large range of images: an interest in emphasizing “center stage,” subjects with at least one other strong supporting character, arrangements that heighten a sense of immersive drama, and a reluctance to reveal a lot of context. Human figures and animals almost never appear in my compositions because they instantly become the protagonists when included, thereby sapping the power of whatever narratives the natural features might suggest on their own.

Post-Processing Habits

Naturally, my post-processing habits evolved along these same lines. Through an interest in encouraging interpretation on the part of the viewer, my processing style eschews especially straightforward, highly documentary treatments that might appear to be “out of camera.”

Instead, the goal is to register a sense of orchestration. I toe the line of naturalism, habitually shifting colors and tones in an effort to play up whatever themes occur, always at the risk of offending purists. While I typically reduce the saturation of my colors, I am liberal about shifting their hues, often resulting in especially colorful images that allow more latitude for control of hierarchy and tenor.

Shifts in color can bring out characters and can subdue extraneous details, and introducing a controlled color palette can help to impart a mood. Favorite colors, such as purple undertones, feature frequently because they support the favorite interpretive themes mentioned above. For these reasons, color work is a fundamental aspect of my style.

Developing Your Own Style

Although my own process usually begins with some theme or story that constitutes the “soul” of an image, the reverse process might be more fruitful for other photographers. There is no reason why your way into developing stylistic habits should not be through the “bones” or the “skin,” as summarized previously.

Many photographers take no interest in interpretation but love landmarks, geology, or weather events simply for the sheer spectacles that they offer. However you manage to get absorbed in your work, the key to developing a style is to work your way through that route as frequently as possible. It might seem unhelpful to say that developing a style is nearly inevitable through merely following your own nose, but truly all that it takes is adherence to your own interests.

The surest way to thwart the process of developing your style is to fragment your approach into an endless pursuit of emulation. Replicating the styles of popular images might be instructive in learning composition or post-processing, but ultimately stylistic habits come from pursuing your own interests in a variety of cases. Where you begin with that process hardly matters. The impetus might be an interest in certain environments (forests, for example), in a specific kind of light (such as backlighting or spotlighting), or even an interest in a particular technique (such as focus stacking). Regardless of what motivation gets you in position with a camera, if you honor it long enough, other habits will follow.

Two Caveats

Two caveats are important to keep in mind, however. Firstly, style is dynamic. The history of art is replete with examples of artists whose styles evolved over time. The early work of Picasso, known collectively as his “Blue Period,” is a classic example. Essentially, if your style is not evolving, then it is stagnating, and you risk producing work that seems repetitious or formulaic.

Clinging stubbornly to stylistic traits can get you into a rut, so a more productive approach is to follow your interests and see where they take you, even if you find yourself departing sharply from previous habits. Secondly, style is not absolute. Your style exists in relation to other styles and will overlap with them. We all stand on the shoulders of giants, and nobody owns a stylistic trait. Ultimately, your style is a collection of habits that cohere in a special way for you, like a recipe made from common ingredients that has a distinct flavor.

Beyond the simple practice of staying true to yourself, there is also a lot of value to be gained from analyzing your own work on occasion. Style is indeed a slippery subject—hard to pin down, and even harder for many people to articulate in words when they see it.

Some styles are easy to describe, such as those that veer into heavily mannered stylization, but most are more understated. Do you have more of a thematic style, a compositional style, a technological style, or something else? It can be helpful to analyze your images in terms of their “bones,” “skin,” and “soul” to gain some perspective on which of your interests tend to be the most motivating and productive in bringing about your favorite results.

Which habits are serving you well? How portable are they to environments, subjects, or techniques that you have yet to explore? Trying to answer these questions, at least every once in a while, can go a long way toward keeping your style on track and evolving. Even if your style defies easy identification, you will know when it is helping you to produce work that feels very much your own.

Erin Babnik is a Canon Explorer of Light. See more of her work at erinbabnik.com.