How a Simple Lesson in Perspective Got Me Published by AP

One of the first lessons I learned in photography is that a unique perspective can be the difference between a striking image and one that goes unnoticed. I was hired to cover the ping pong rematch between the USA and China at the Nixon Library in Yorba Linda, California.

It was my first time working alongside staff photographers from news channels, newspapers, and other media outlets. The library gave me an all-access special pass and everything. It was my first time having a press pass, and to be honest it felt like I finally had credentials – proof that I was finally a professional photographer. I felt confident, I felt proud – I was stoked. I knew that I’d been given a chance, and I knew I couldn’t mess it up.

When I went to see where the other photographers were stationed, I couldn’t believe it—they were all crammed together on the same tiny press platform, firing off thousands of nearly identical shots. This is what I mean by unnoticed. One of the photographers—someone everyone seemed to recognize—had a small step stool leaning against the wall. He was shooting with a beautiful white 70–200mm lens, and a pristine 300mm f/2.8. 

He handled them with a kind of ease and reverence, like a seasoned carpenter with a well-worn drill or a favorite hammer.

I was jealous. For this shoot I basically brought all the gear I owned – which at the time wasn’t very much. The camera I used was a Canon Rebel XTI, and attached to it I had a Canon 580 EX II speedlite mounted on a flash bracket. For lenses, I knew the lighting would be pretty bad so the only lens I knew I would need to rely on the most was my Canon 50mm 1.8 lens (a hand-me-down from my Uncle that he had acquired in the late 1980’s), and for longer shots I only had the Canon EF 28-135mm f/3.5-5.6 IS USM – which is a variable zoom lens.

I also had a Tokina 100mm macro f/2 lens, but it was really slow to focus and honestly wasn’t a great fit for the situation. Needless to say, this was my first big break and so what I had to work with was rather limited.

I sidled up to him and asked why he had the step stool. He smiled and looked at me, glanced at my gear, and said “Nobody cares about your gear. You want to stand out in the crowd as a real professional? Have a step stool with you—I always have one in my truck. In a situation like this—it’s the unique angle—a different perspective that will get you the shot.”

I hung out with the guys on the press platform for a while, and even as the event kicked off and some of the younger players took the field, I stayed up there. It was exciting—I was part of the action. For the first time, I felt like one of the real photographers. I was finally a professional, too.

At a certain point, though, I looked down at my access pass, and the words I’d heard earlier echoed in my mind. I wasn’t going to get what I needed by staying inside that elevated box with everyone else. So, I stepped away, walking around the perimeter until I found a small staircase leading to an overlook. I took my time, carefully assessing the different angles I could capture with the lenses I had. I studied the distance between me and my subjects from each vantage point, figuring out which lens would best suit each shot.

At the peak of the event, when the two original players finally returned to the table for their rematch, I was ready. I knew exactly where I needed to be. I captured the shots I’d envisioned, and just like that—the match was over.

Afterward, the players were herded together for a ceremonial photo. And for that shot, I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I couldn’t have planned it—everything was chaotic and disorganized. 

The players didn’t even speak the same language, and no one seemed sure of what was happening. But in the middle of all that confusion, there was a fleeting moment of genuine mutual respect and shared happiness between them. I saw it and clicked the shutter. That moment was the end of the event.

I headed upstairs to the offices to back up all my photos onto their computers. There was a deadline looming, so I jumped right into selecting the images I felt were the strongest—shots that truly captured the most iconic moments of the event.

The Associated Press emailed the Nixon Library office, asking if they had any photos from the event to share. They were looking for up to five options to choose from. Suddenly, the pressure was on me. I blazed through my images, cleaning them up and preparing them for submission.

I could hardly believe what was happening—What if they actually picked one? I finished up my edits and handed over the five shots I believed were my best. At that point, all I could do was wait. It was in fate’s hands now.

The next morning, I got a phone call from the Nixon Library—The Associated Press had decided to use, not just one, but all five of my images! My photos were being shared across multiple news organizations, both in print and online. I couldn’t believe it.

Even now, I get chills just thinking about how I felt at that moment. It was an experience that changed my life. Getting published for the first time is something that filled me with confidence, and helped to give me further clarity about what I really wanted to do in life. 

The lesson here is just how important it is to seek different perspectives. As a travel photographer, I’m constantly looking up, down, behind me, to the left and right—always searching for a new angle. I look for ways to climb towers, hills, even mountains if that’s what it takes to capture something unique.

But sometimes, it’s the opposite. The best shot might be found beneath a bridge, under an archway, or even lying flat on the ground. It’s in these unexpected places that you often discover something truly special—sometimes even extraordinary.

If you’re a new to photography, and you’re struggling with finding interesting things to take photos of – try changing your perspective. Take a few steps forward, or a few steps back. Lean to the left or right. Tilt your camera. Shoot in portrait vs landscape.

Get on the floor, or climb on top of something. Pay attention to where your light is, and use it to your advantage. Learn the strengths and limitations of your gear. The gear is not important – but your fluency in how you use them is very important. 

If you’re still having a hard time finding your style, and being able to create something that you feel proud of vs. ‘just a regular picture’ – try to focus on things that are simple, and work hard to find creative ways to make them interesting and beautiful.

It takes much more skill to make something that is seemingly ‘average’ beautiful, than it does to capture a stellar image of something that is already objectively beautiful. For more insights on how to find beauty in the unremarkable, check out my blog post about the art of finding beautiful in unexpected places.

I hope this post was inspiring and insightful to you. Have you had a similar experience, or did something happen that made you feel a similar way? Leave a comment below, I’d love to hear from you.

Cheers,

Scott