It’s -15°C today.
My camera is rated to -10, and if I’m honest, so am I.
There are days when walking the city isn’t the right answer. When the cold pushes you indoors, the question becomes simple: do you stop making photographs, or do you adapt the practice? Today, adaptation won.
Instead of the street, I turned the camera inward. A self-portrait. Controlled. Deliberate. A three-flash setup in the quiet of my home—less about technical perfection, more about continuing the habit of seeing.
This wasn’t about vanity. It was about expression, discipline, and staying visually engaged when the weather says no.
If you’ve read my thoughts on Selfies vs. Self-Portraits, you already know where I stand: a self-portrait is intentional. It’s authored. It asks the same questions of the photographer as any portrait made of someone else.
Why Three Lights?
Three-point lighting is often introduced as a studio fundamental, but fundamentals aren’t boring—they’re revealing. Strip the setup down to its essentials, and every light has a job. There’s nowhere to hide.
Much as walking with a single focal length clarifies intent, constraints do the same. I’ve written about this discipline repeatedly, whether it’s committing to the 28mm field of view, narrowing a visual voice, or sticking with a long-term project long after the novelty wears off. This setup follows that same philosophy.
I leaned on several solid references while planning the session:
YouTube breakdowns on three-light portrait setups
- 3-Light Setup for Flattering Editorial Portraits
- 3-Light Portrait Photography Setup Explained | Studio Lighting Tips for Stunning Results
- The Three Light Setup – Studio Lighting for Beginners | Mark Wallace | Exploring Photography
- Your First Three Flash Photo Session | Take and Make Great Photography with Gavin Hoe
- Mastering 3 Light Fashion Photography The Ultimate Setup
Written guides on three-point lighting theory
- How to Set Up Basic Three-Point Studio Lighting
- Three-Point Portraiture Lighting and Beyond
- What Is 3 Point Lighting And Setup How-To Guide
These weren’t followed step-by-step. They were reference points—much like studying contact sheets or classic photo essays before making your own work.
Key Light — Defining the Face
The key light does the heavy lifting. It was positioned slightly off-axis, just enough to carve shape into the face without slipping into unnecessary drama.
This mirrors how I use light on the street: strong direction, clear intent. It’s the same thinking I explored when writing about using on-camera flash to deepen contrast in black-and-white street photography. Light isn’t there to flatten reality; it’s there to reveal it.
For this post, I’ll be sharing a standalone image showing only the key light active.
Fill Light — Controlling Contrast, Not Eliminating It
The fill light exists to answer a single question: how much shadow am I willing to live with?
I kept it subtle. Low power. Just enough to retain texture without sanding the image smooth. Too much fill, and the portrait loses tension. Too little and the shadows become the story.
That balancing act—between clarity and restraint—is something I think about constantly, whether I’m photographing strangers on the street or myself at home.
Back Light aka Hair Light — Separation and Presence
The back light is quiet but critical. It separates the subject from the background and adds a sense of dimensionality, preventing the image from collapsing into flatness.
I think of this light less as illumination and more as presence. It doesn’t shout. It outlines. It suggests.
This frame will also be shown on its own, isolated, so its contribution is unmistakable.
The Final Frame — All Three Lights Working Together
When all three lights come together, the photograph finally resolves, every element doing its job, nothing redundant.
Seeing each light independently matters. Too many lighting tutorials skip this step, but understanding what each light contributes is how technique becomes instinct.
Why This Matters (Even If You Never Shoot Self-Portraits)
This exercise isn’t about becoming a studio photographer. It’s about staying engaged with the craft.
I’ve written before about why walking the city is essential to my urban photography practice, but the more profound truth is this: consistency matters more than location. When the city is inaccessible, the practice adapts.
Self-portraiture, like street photography, still demands presence. You still have to see. You still have to decide. The subject happens to be you.
And maybe that’s the point.
Closing Thoughts
This wasn’t a detour from my work—it was a continuation of it.
The same ideas run through everything I photograph: intentional framing, respect for light, commitment to a voice, and the refusal to stop making photographs just because conditions aren’t ideal.
Today, the city stayed outside. The practice stayed alive.
And tomorrow—if it warms up—I’ll be back on the street.
