Photography can be many things. For some, it’s about capturing scenes. For me, it’s about conveying emotions and suggesting narratives that resonate deeply, first with me and then with the viewers who might experience the image. I’m not so much after eyes as I am hearts and minds. Mood does that.
The mood of a photograph is its emotional tone—a subtle yet powerful element that can transform a simple image into a compelling one that is more than visual but also visceral.
Mood in photography refers to the overall feeling or atmosphere an image evokes in the viewer, ranging from joy and serenity to tension and melancholy. As broad as the gamut of human emotions is, so too is the possibility of touching them with a photograph. Mood is the intangible quality of a photograph, often created by a combination of many elements, a short list of which would include light and composition, the subject matter itself, and colour. But that is a very abbreviated list of how we can establish an emotional connection—to make photographs that are more expressive on the level that makes us sigh, laugh, cry, or feel wonder when we see them.
For those who aim to tell stories with their images (and not all of us do), an image that successfully conveys a mood can evoke empathy, curiosity, or nostalgia, drawing the viewer into the story behind the photograph. Making them care. Investing them.
Mood can also play a significant role in guiding the viewer’s perception and interpretation of an image. It acts as a lens through which a visual story is understood. It changes a photograph of something into a photograph about something more specific. For instance, a photograph of a deserted house might evoke feelings of loneliness or melancholy, suggesting themes of abandonment or loss. But the same scene captured with warm lighting and vibrant colours might create a nostalgic or serene mood, changing the narrative entirely. Through mood, photographers can steer the viewer’s emotional response and shape the story being told. Both hypothetical images I just mentioned are of the same thing, but they are about very different things. That’s the power of mood.
Beyond storytelling and emotional engagement, understanding and pursuing mood can just make prettier photographs. Stronger images aesthetically. Images that stand out more because they have a distinct visual identity. Whether it’s the ethereal quality of a foggy landscape or the raw energy of a stormy sea, mood adds depth and character to photographs, making them more memorable and impactful.
Mood is often what first captures the viewer’s attention—the hook that draws viewers in to explore the image further.
Complicated images with a lot going on can take a while to figure out. The impact is spread out and sometimes doesn’t hit as powerfully. Mood is simple; it’s a feeling that requires no figuring out. Mood is seldom a puzzle.
In portrait photography, mood can be used to reveal a subject’s unique personality or telegraph how they feel. It can connect us to a subject we might not otherwise care about. The landscape photographer relies on mood to transform ordinary scenes into extraordinary vistas, capturing the essence of a place—the feeling of it. Documentary photographers use mood to make us feel empathy about social issues. Any photographer wanting their audience to feel something would be foolish to assume that subject matter alone will provoke empathy when there are much more powerful tools available, among which might be choice of moment, point of view, or the brightness of an image.
Mood brings emotional depth; it is the life of an image.
For me, mood is often the why. It’s what draws me to make the photograph in the first place. And so it is perhaps a source of consternation or confusion when I look at the work of photographers new to this craft, and even back on years of my early work and see no mood. What power they might have had if only these photographers (and I) understood the possibilities. If only I had asked better questions than, “Which lens should I use?” or “What would a proper exposure be for this?”
When you first start out, it’s probably helpful that your questions relate to focus, exposure, or lens choice. But I’m increasingly convinced those questions should never be separated from this better one: How do you want the image to feel? Because even where focus and exposure (and lens choice) are concerned, your choices about how can never be separated from your choices about why. If I can see it, I can feel it. So if you make an image darker, I will feel that darkness and its accompanying mood. If your focus is so shallow that the out-of-focus highlights become globes of light and colour and the rest of the scene softens, I will feel that too. Or if your focus is so shallow I can’t see enough detail to make sense of the story, I won’t feel the power of that story. Not a single decision we make—either in camera or with development—can’t be used to make an image that is as visceral as it is visual.
Two questions that will change the way you make photographs: How do you want the image to feel? What would that look like?
If you’re open to a quick exercise, answer these two questions for me:
What do you love that conveys mood in an image?What makes your heart skip a beat?Many of the elements and choices that bring mood to an image are felt somewhat universally, but the ones we most like working with, the ones we most want to see in our images, are a matter of preference. I’d love to hear what those mood hooks are for you. My top three would have to be backlight, point of view, and the mystery that shadows create in an image. What are yours? You can drop those into the comments below.For the Love of the Photograph,
David
