Blog #7 - “What’s Your Niche?” (Or, Why I Don’t Have One and Maybe That’s the Point)

Someone once asked me what my photography niche was. OK, they didn’t. But it’s the kind of thing people who know what they’re doing seem to get asked, and I fancied writing a blog post about it.

The idea of a niche implies you’ve settled on something. That you’ve tried everything, found your thing, and now you’re drilling into it like a mole with a full-frame sensor. But the truth is… I haven’t. Not even close. I’ve got interests, fascinations, and an ever-growing pile of gear I convinced myself would lead me to a niche. Instead, I’ve ended up with a collection of cameras, lenses, and half-formed projects, and I’m not entirely sure whether I’m a generalist, an enthusiast, or just a guy procrastinating in style (which is far more likely as anyone who knows me will testify to).

Let’s unpack it.

Landscapes: Beautiful, Peaceful, Effort-Heavy.

I love a good landscape. Who doesn’t? The light cutting across hills, the early morning mist, reflections in still water. There’s a serenity to those shots that draws me in every time. But there’s a catch.

Landscapes require effort.

They demand you get out early or stay out late. They involve walking, carrying tripods, knowing where the sun rises, and sometimes even leaving the house with a plan. Golden hour and blue hour are magical sure, but they also happen at completely impractical times.

And here’s the truth: above all else, I’m a husband and a dad. That takes priority over driving out to the Peak District at 5am for a sunrise that may or may not appear. I’d love to chase the light more often, but at this stage in life, family time trumps landscape perfection. Most of my landscape shots come from being out when I can be, rather than when I “should” be. That said, the opportunities in the Arctic with Junior gave me plenty of opportunity to just stop and spend as much or as little time on a landscape as we wanted.

So maybe my landscape niche is “local, low-key, and opportunistic.” And honestly? That suits me just fine.

Lofoten, Norway

Portraits of Bow: The Private Portfolio

One of the purest joys of photography for me is taking photos of Bow, my daughter. She’s expressive, curious, and usually tolerates the camera until I push it one click too far. Some of my favourite photos I’ve ever taken are of her! Catching light across her face, candid looks, quiet concentration, unposed moments.

But here’s the thing, we don’t publish Bow’s face online.

That’s a conscious choice Emma and I made for her online safety. It’s not about paranoia, but let’s be honest, today’s world isn’t always a pleasant one, and once something’s online, it’s out there for good. So my best work? It mostly lives on my hard drive and in printed photo books. It’s for us. Not the 'Gram. Not for likes or hashtags, and honestly, that’s kind of beautiful in its own way. A private niche. A secret folder marked “Bow Being Bow.”

Still, it doesn’t help when someone says, “Do you have a portfolio?” and I answer, “Yes, but you can’t see any of it.”

Bow on one of her many walks with Daddy.

Astrophotography: So Many Stars, So Little Understanding

I’ve always loved space. I remember staying up as a kid, freezing in the garden, staring up at a sky that felt endless. So naturally, when I got serious about photography, I tried to shoot it. I’ve captured the moon a fair bit. I’ve tried long exposures of stars. I’ve even had the tripod out in the middle of fields in winter, trying to pretend I’m an astrophotographer.

But here’s the honest truth… I don’t understand the moon.

Why is it so low half the time? Why does it rise perfectly for other people and then ghost me like a bad date? Why is it always hiding behind the one tree that ruins my composition?

Add to that the light pollution from every lamppost and housing estate within a 5-mile radius, and you’ve got a very frustrated man squinting at a blurry Jupiter while wondering if Emma locked the back door and now I'm stuck outside.

Still, I’ll keep trying. There’s something about astro and lunar photography that taps into a primal part of me. Like I should be able to master it. Even if I’m 15 minutes into a “quick shot of the moon” and already swearing at clouds.

Hamnøy, Norway... my first attempt at aurora photography

Wildlife: The Lenses I Don't Own (and the Deer That Wouldn't Stay Still)

I’d love to say I shoot wildlife. Who wouldn’t want to capture a fox mid-step, an owl in flight, or a deer appearing like a dream in morning mist?

Only issue? I don’t have the right lenses.

I’ve got a couple of manual focus long lenses and a ridiculous 420-800mm from Temu, but handheld wildlife with those? It’s like trying to catch butterflies with a rake.

The most ambitious attempt so far was a herd of deer. Beautiful, quiet, grazing in the early morning light. Perfect scene until I tried to manually focus. The bastards wouldn’t stay still long enough for me to get anything sharp. By the time I got the focus close, they’d moved, blinked, or buggered off.

This is where Gear Acquisition Syndrome (GAS) sneaks in. I’ve hovered over 600mm zooms, flirted with budget telephotos, and told myself, “If I just had this lens, then I could get into wildlife.”

But deep down, I know better. I know that even if I owned the dream lens, I’d still need patience, positioning, knowledge of animal habits… and the will to get up before dawn. Right now, my wildlife experience mostly consists of snapping pigeons that don’t move much.

Elvaston Castle, Derbyshire

Macro: Close-Up Therapy

Macro photography is great when you’re feeling creative but the weather is rubbish. Which, in the UK, is basically always.

I don’t have a proper macro lens, just some extension tubes and a vague sense of optimism, but I love the weird little worlds it opens up. Dew drops, leaf textures, insects with more detail than I asked for. Macro is a niche that feels meditative. You slow down, really see things, and accept that most of your shots will be slightly out of focus.

It’s also brilliant for those days when you don’t want to leave the house. Just stick a flower in a jam jar, grab a flashlight, and you’ve got yourself a setup.

Of course, proper macro gear tempts me, but I’ve already explained my GAS. One step at a time.

A flower, the garden.

Sports Photography: Yeah, Nah.

I’ll keep this short.

I’m not into sports. So I’m definitely not into sports photography.

That fast-paced, high-speed, action-heavy style? Not me. If someone asked me to shoot a football match, I’d probably give it a go for the experience, but it would be about the photography not the sport!

Pass.

Documentary and Street: Love the Idea, Short on Content

There’s something endlessly compelling about documentary and street photography. The unposed, the unnoticed, the candid. It’s raw, it’s honest, and it’s the kind of photography that tells a story.

But here’s my problem: I don’t have enough things to document.

I’m not in bustling cities every day. I’m not hanging out in markets or protest marches or jazz bars at 1am. I mostly hang around Loughborough, go on photo walks with friends, or lurk near allotments trying not to look suspicious.

When I do get the opportunity, like Bow exploring something, or a friend shooting film, or just the light hitting a window the right way I take the shot. I love those moments. But I don’t have a whole project. Not yet.

Maybe one day.

Leicester early morning street shoot

So… What Is My Niche?

Honestly? I think my niche is still forming. Or maybe I don’t have one, and maybe that’s OK.

There’s a pressure in the photography world to define yourself. To say “I’m a wedding photographer” or “I do urban street” or “I specialise in birds mid-poo on benches.” But I think some of us are still exploring.

I take photos because it slows my brain down. It gives me a way to engage with the world without needing to explain myself. Whether it’s Bow’s quiet moments, the moon’s chaotic sky-surfing, or a crumbling stone wall in the woods, I shoot what catches me.

And yeah, sometimes that means I end up with a hard drive full of ‘maybes.’ Maybe this is a series. Maybe this is the start of a project. Maybe I’ll come back and do more like this.

Or maybe not.

One Mistake at a Time

If you’ve read this far, you might be wondering: is this a niche or just a collection of excuses? Honestly, a bit of both.

But it’s also a reminder that you don’t have to know where you’re going with photography to enjoy the ride. That you can shoot landscapes on a Tuesday, macro on a rainy Thursday, and attempt a blurry moonrise on Saturday night while swearing under your breath.

Because I’m not just a camera guy now. I’m a curious, fumbling, creatively-distracted, gear-tempted, joy-chasing camera guy.

And maybe that’s niche enough for now.