Life’s Not Posed- Why I love Candid Photography

The Truth is in the Blur

I didn’t fall into candid photography because it was trendy, or because I read some “Top 10 Ways to Shoot Authentic Moments” blog (though, ironically, here we are). I leaned into it because I realised something simple: the moments worth remembering never give you a heads-up.

No one schedules that blink-and-you’ll-miss-it hug between old mates reuniting on a street corner. Or the kid tugging at their dad’s hand while pigeons scatter like confetti. These aren’t moments you manufacture. They just happen. And if your lens isn’t paying attention, they’re gone — one-in-a-million memories vanished in a blink.

Candid Doesn’t Mean Careless

Don’t get me wrong — candid photography isn’t just point, click, and hope. It takes intention. You watch. You wait. You learn to anticipate that sliver of time when everything lines up — light, expression, movement, mood.

Sometimes you nail it. Often you don’t. But when it lands, it’s lightning in a shutter click.

What I’ve learned — in photography, and in life — is that being present matters more than being perfect. You don’t see the beautiful stuff unless you slow down and really look.

The Shift from Control to Curiosity

When I first picked up a camera, I tried to control everything. Settings, angles, backgrounds… even people. Spoiler: it didn’t work.

People don’t follow scripts. And trying to force them into one just makes everyone uncomfortable — especially pigeons. (Have you ever tried directing a pigeon?)

Candid photography taught me to let go. To stop trying to manufacture stories — and start listening for them instead.

Why It Still Matters

We live in a world filtered within an inch of its life. Everyone’s curating, editing, cropping, retaking — polishing each shot until it’s finally good enough to prove they’re happy.

And now, AI can generate a fake “perfect” moment without anyone even lifting a camera. No imperfections, no noise, no soul. Just bland, sterile pixels pretending to be memory.

But candid photography? It doesn’t care about your brand. It cares about your truth. Your tired eyes after a long shift. The grin you didn’t realise had crept in. The sigh, the glance, the held breath.

It says: I see you. As you are. And that’s enough.

The images I love most aren’t the ones of people in pain. They’re the ones that tell something true. A story, a truth, a whisper of who someone really is.

I’m not trying to steal your image. I’m trying to reflect it — the honest, wonderful you.

Final Thoughts (and One More Pigeon)

Photography is how I process the world. And candid photography, in particular, is how I stay connected to it — to the overlooked, the fleeting, the stuff that matters once it’s gone.

So no, I won’t ask you to smile for the camera. But I’ll be there — gently, quietly — for when the smile shows up on its own.

And if a pigeon wanders into frame?

Even better.