Desert Reflections
What assisting a commercial hat catalogue photoshoot in Palm Springs taught me about photography and creativity.
Sun, palm trees, desert. There's something about Palm Springs that feels suspended in time. It's a place where mid-century modern architecture meets the vibrant hues of the desert in a way that makes you question which decade you're in.
Maybe it's the saturated colors that seem to vibrate under the endless sky, or the sensation of heat that transforms how you see. Perhaps it's the memory of vacations past, so many moments with friends over the last 20+ years, those rare instances when time feels different and creativity finds room to breathe.
When an established photographer from Colorado, Christina Kiffney, reached out about assisting her on a hat company shoot, Wallaroo, I hesitated. Having focused exclusively on my photography work since before the pandemic, I hadn't been anyone's assistant in years. Would this distract me from my work? Am I too old now? Had I forgotten how to support someone else's vision rather than execute my own?
The Forgotten Value of Assisting
There's a strange invisibility to the role of photo assistant, essential for efficiency yet chronically undervalued. The industry often treats assisting as merely a stepping stone, not a valuable experience in itself.
I've come to believe that assisting an established photographer, especially after developing your practice, is one of the most valuable growth experiences available. It's easy to get locked into our methodology, the comfort of familiar gear, predictable workflows, and signature lighting setups, and forget there are countless ways to create compelling images.
You can watch hundreds of YouTube tutorials, but nothing compares to being in the middle of a set, dealing with unpredictable variables, and witnessing first-hand how another creative problem-solves in real time. It's photography education in its purest form.
After a phone call with photographer Christina Kiffney, I committed to the project. We connected immediately, discussing expectations for the multi-day shoot, her gear preferences, and what I could bring to the table. Despite my concerns about unfamiliar equipment, like I hadn't shot on Nikon in more than a decade, had never used a CamRanger 2 for wireless tethering, and was unfamiliar with Westcott strobes, something told me this was worth doing.
What sealed the deal? Partly because, if I’m being honest, learning it would be an all-female team on set.
Technical Preparations and Creative Anxiety
Having just returned from my multi-day photoshoot in the Bay Area, I had barely three days to research the unfamiliar gear before heading to Palm Springs. This transition, from directing a shoot to supporting one, required a mental shift that felt both humbling and exciting.
I've always operated by a simple principle: whatever the job, do your very best. I never approach anything halfway. This philosophy has given me a particular kind of peace, the knowing that regardless of outcome, I've brought my complete self to the task. Perhaps that's why I tend to remain calm when things get chaotic.
I spent the weekend watching videos and researching the CamRanger 2, Westcott strobes, and Nikon systems, mapping potential issues that might arise. Christina had mentioned trigger problems with the Westcott flashes, so I paid special attention to understanding their menu systems and connectivity.
What fascinated me was this: while most photography equipment shares the same DNA functionally, small differences in design can dramatically impact workflow. It's those subtle distinctions that separate gear that disappears in your hands from equipment that constantly reminds you of its presence.
The CamRanger 2 particularly intrigued me. This small device creates a private wireless network, allowing tablets to receive images in near real-time. While many photographers praise the mobility it offers, I found myself thinking about the trade-offs: another battery to monitor, another potential point of failure.
One design flaw irritated me: there's no way to view battery level while charging or directly on the device. You can only see if it's charging or fully charged, with no gradation in between. Battery status is only visible once everything is connected and running through the iPad or iOS app, not exactly practical when preparing gear the night before.
I ran into an issue when I thought the battery was fully charged overnight, and it never charged. Fortunately, we had enough battery packs to charge it on the go, but this could have been a huge problem otherwise.
For someone who has primarily worked in studio settings or locations with reliable power, the wireless tethering setup presented both challenges and possibilities. I could see its value for certain situations, but I questioned whether the freedom of movement justified the anxiety of managing yet another battery-dependent system.
Wind, Light, and Physics
Arriving Sunday afternoon, I immediately began prepping and charging equipment for our three 10+ hour shooting days. The schedule would be tight, with multiple location changes, quick setups and breakdowns, and the ever-present challenge of the elements.
And those elements made themselves known immediately. Palm Springs greeted us with persistent wind that transformed every light modifier into a sail and the scrim into a kite. Picture me standing on a step ladder, holding a pop-up scrim to block harsh sunlight from our models, while desert gusts threatened to launch me skyward. Well, not skyward, but the worst thing you can do is let one of these things fall on your talent. Physics becomes very personal in those moments.
Our stylist, Carol Beaver, deserves special recognition. While keeping her expert eye on the talent and wardrobe, she regularly stepped in to stabilize strobes when both my hands were occupied with the wind-catching scrim. This kind of collaborative problem-solving is what separates successful productions from chaotic ones.
What struck me most was watching Christina navigate the communication gap between client language and photographer language. What a client says they want in an image often translates very differently in photographic terms. "Make the hat pop" might mean increasing contrast, adjusting saturation, changing the lighting ratio, or something else entirely. Christina and her clients had developed a shorthand over years of collaboration, finding common ground that bridged their different perspectives.
The Challenge of Hat Photography
Photographing hats presented technical challenges I'd never encountered. The lighting requirements were almost counterintuitive compared to my typical approach. While I generally favor more dramatic, cinematic lighting with significant contrast or more subtlety in approach, hat photography demands even illumination that showcases product details without creating unflattering shadows across the model's face.
Finding that balance, properly exposing the product while maintaining appealing portrait lighting, required constant adjustment as we moved between locations with changing ambient light. The process gave me a new appreciation for specialty product photographers who've mastered these unique challenges.
With each setup, I gained efficiency in recognizing what would work for this particular shoot. The learning curve was steep but exhilarating, reminding me that photography is not a single skill but a constellation of related disciplines, each with its particular demands.
The Physical Toll and Lessons Learned
By day's end, exhaustion had settled into every muscle. Holding a scrim against wind resistance for hours is deceptively demanding. It looks effortless, but it gradually drains your strength. At 46, I felt every minute of those long days in my shoulders and back, yet there was satisfaction in the physical expenditure, a reminder that photography remains one of the few creative fields that demands both mental and physical endurance.
If I were to do it again (and I hope to), I'd make one significant change: bringing a dedicated assistant's backpack with compartmentalized storage for essentials. As we moved rapidly between locations, the inefficiency of running back to base for forgotten batteries or tools became painfully apparent. Even distances that seem negligible on a map become significant when you're trying to maintain creative momentum under the desert sun.
Note taken.
Stepping Out of the Lead Role
Looking back on the experience, what stands out most isn't just the technical knowledge gained or even the beautiful images created (though Christina's work was truly exceptional). It's the perspective shift that comes from temporarily stepping out of the lead role.
When we're always the primary photographer, always the decision-maker, always the visionary, we can develop blind spots, habits, and approaches that go unexamined simply because they work well enough. Assisting another photographer puts a mirror to these blind spots, offering alternatives not through instruction but through observation.
I couldn't be more grateful for the opportunity to work with Christina Kiffney, Carol Beaver, our amazing makeup artist Donna Gast, and the talented team from Wallaroo. Beyond the images created, beyond the techniques learned, the experience reminded me that creative growth often requires us to temporarily relinquish the identities we've carefully built.
Sometimes the most valuable perspective comes from changing your position. You know, from being the one who says "this is how we'll do it" to the one who asks "how can I help you realize your vision?"
In a creative life, that willingness to alternate between leading and supporting might be the most sustainable approach to continued growth. The desert sun may be unforgiving, but it brightens everything equally, showing us not just where we are, but all the paths we might still explore.
What role has assisting or collaboration played in your creative development? It doesn’t have to be in photography. I'd love to hear your experiences in the comments below.
Excellent write-up! Having spent several weeks in that area recently I can definitely attest that there’s something magical about the light out there this time of year.