No matter how meticulously you plan a portrait session, something can still go wrong. This article tells the story of a photoshoot that didn’t go to plan, and why I continued instead of canceling.
As a photographer with many years of experience, I pride myself on my preparedness, and that day was no exception. My shoot prep goes the same every time: if working from my own ideas, I create a mood board to make sure everyone is on the same page in terms of expected visuals, visit the location if necessary, then plan my lighting design and prepare a list of equipment and other pre-shoot tasks to ensure nothing is missed or forgotten on the day. Since closing my commercial studio, I have most of my equipment stored in my small home studio; however, the seamless background paper rolls are kept in storage in a garage, as I rarely need to use them.
The plan this time around was simple: a strong and sleek set of portraits in a double denim outfit against a plain white backdrop for intended use on social media. As you’ll know if you have read any of my other articles, my favorite person to collaborate with is my daughter, an artist and musician who is an absolute professional in front of the camera. Having tagged along to and participated in many photoshoots while growing up, appearing in front of the camera is an intuitive experience for her.
I began setting up my well-rehearsed pre-shoot routine. The background support stands snapped into place, the light stands raised and positioned as needed with the lights positioned on top. Everything was going to plan until I opened the box containing the white background paper roll. I slid the roll of paper out of the dusty box, expecting the familiar smooth surface that’s a staple in portrait photography. Instead, my heart sank. The roll was bent just enough that the curvature prevented it from smoothly threading through the support stand rail, and the paper itself was riddled with creases across its surface.
In a desperate bid to salvage the backdrop, I unrolled it further, hoping the damage was superficial. I grabbed a pair of scissors and cut off a huge section, hoping the inner half of the roll might be smoother, but the deeper I went, the worse it got. The entire roll was a crumpled mess, unfit for the polished look I had planned. The box had been stored across some wooden beams in the garage, causing the ends to bend under its own weight during the cold winter months when the air is damp. I unrolled it fully, my fingers crossed, but the creases persisted.
I won’t pretend that I wasn’t frustrated with myself as I stood there, staring at the ruined backdrop. My new plan was to light the backdrop evenly to minimize shadows, then rely on post-production to erase the remaining visible creases, but that felt like admitting defeat. I could let the stress ruin the session, or I could see this as an opportunity. Experience had taught me that in photography, just like in everyday life, those who adapt are rewarded, and I wasn’t about to let a damaged roll derail my day.
A spark of inspiration hit—what if I didn’t fight the creases? What if I leaned into them, turning imperfection into intention? I paused, unfolded the paper, looked at the creases and the folds that I had created, and began deliberately crumpling it, scrunching and twisting until it resembled a textured, almost sculptural surface. I decided to lighten the mood and use my body like a steamroller to ensure there were plenty of random creases across the whole paper surface. I draped the newly created sculptural backdrop across the stand, clipping it in place, letting the folds create shadows in an organic pattern. Stepping back, I saw potential where there had been frustration—a backdrop that wasn’t just a background but a character in its own right.
I adjusted the studio strobes to test my impromptu creation, lighting the scene with a three-dimensional quality that a flat white backdrop could never achieve. As we began, the textured background worked its magic. It shaped and framed my daughter, drawing attention to her expressive poses while adding a quirky, almost painterly dimension to each frame. The denim popped against the neutrality of the backdrop as originally intended, and the shoot flowed effortlessly, creating images that feel fresh and dynamic. By the end, we had a collection of images far more compelling than the clean, minimalist portraits I had originally planned. I even kept in the visible raw edges of the paper.
This experience was a reminder that when a shoot goes awry, the instinct to panic or cancel can be overwhelming. But there’s another option: to see the mishap as an opportunity. What had once been destined for the recycling bin was now part of the shoot in its own right, existing as more than just negative space.
A classic white backdrop will always have its place in portrait photography. The simplicity is timeless, offering a blank canvas that lets the subject shine. Yet, the crumpled paper added something new—a layer of interest that shaped the narrative of the shoot. The background stood as a collaborator, framing the subject in a way that felt intentional, even though anyone reading this article will know that was far from the original plan.
This experience proves that Plan B can often surpass Plan A in unexpected ways. The more you shoot, the more you will realize that photography is as much about adaptability as it is about preparation. Experience teaches you to multitask, to go with the flow, and to pivot when things don’t work out. Every mishap is a lesson, every detour a chance to grow.
So, the next time your shoot veers off course—whether it’s a creased backdrop, a malfunctioning light, or another last-minute change—don’t let it derail you. Take a breath, look for the opportunity, and let those creative diversions shine through. They might just lead you to your best work yet.
Have you ever turned a photography mishap into magic? Let us know how you salvaged your shoot in the comments!
Interesting and I guess an unusual recovery - Looks great - You recovered nicely!!
Thanks Billy, lesson learned the hard way, but its good to know I can still think on my feet