The journey of discovering inspiring photographers often begins unexpectedly. It can be a single photograph—quiet and striking—that stops you mid-scroll, or an entire portfolio that leaves you wondering how someone saw the world that way. For me, these discoveries used to be simple. A chronological Instagram feed made it easy to track the people whose work resonated with me. A like here, a follow there, and suddenly I had a record of visual voices that stirred something deep within me.
Now, with algorithms at the helm, that process has changed. Even the photographers I intentionally follow can slip away in the flood of sponsored content and trending noise. I might find someone new, engage with their work deeply for a few days, and then lose sight of them completely—not by choice, but because they vanish from view. This change has made the act of keeping track feel more urgent. It’s no longer just about who I follow but about who I actively return to. Who I seek out. Whose work I revisit when I feel stuck, curious, or creatively numb.
That’s what this list is. It’s not just a list of names. It’s a reflection of the people I think about when I need visual clarity, when I’m searching for what photography can do or say, when I want to remember why I do this work. Some of these photographers have been in my orbit for a decade. Others are more recent discoveries. All of them have shaped, directly or indirectly, how I see the world through my camera.
Personal Connections to Photographic Voices
Photographers often influence us in quiet, indirect ways. Their work filters into our subconscious and begins to alter the questions we ask ourselves during a shoot. Should I lean into this shadow? Do I need more air around the subject? Should I capture this moment now or wait just a second longer? These decisions are deeply personal, but they’re also shaped by the visual language we surround ourselves with.
Penny De Los Santos has been a constant in my life for over ten years. Her food photography is rich and tactile, always grounded in culture and place. There’s a generosity to the way she shoots, an invitation to taste and touch and feel the food on the table. That same generosity runs through the work of Eric Wolfinger, whose black and white photographs in a beloved cookbook helped nudge me toward a career in food photography. His images taught me that instructional photography could also be emotional and poetic.
Marcus Nilsson’s work makes me think of energy. Looking through his photos feels like walking into a party—one where the food is abundant, the conversation animated, and the camera always catching the moment just before or just after the center of attention. His photographs are messy in the best way. They don’t try to perfect the moment; they amplify it.
Then there’s Alina Tsvor. A friend and a deeply gifted photographer, she’s the one I trust most when I need to be photographed myself. Her portraits are tender and honest, with a softness that feels earned. Watching how she works, and how people respond to her lens, reminds me that photography is not just about vision—it’s about connection.
Styles That Stir and Expand the Imagination
Inspiration doesn’t always look like what you do. As someone who primarily shoots food and lifestyle, I’m often drawn to photographers whose work is wildly different from mine. That difference stretches my creative thinking and helps me grow in ways I don’t expect.
Take Dan Tom. His images don’t feel like they exist in the same world as mine. They are painterly, dreamlike, and otherworldly. They make me pause—not just to admire the technique but to recalibrate how I interpret light and tone and silence. Similarly, Ja Soon Kim’s still life photography is a study in balance and breath. Her work is calm, spare, and deeply intentional. It reminds me to slow down, to look closer, to trust quiet moments.
Christina Holmes brings soul to commercial photography. Her images always feel lived-in, even when they’re pristine. That’s a difficult thing to achieve—making polished work that still feels like it has a pulse. Nicole Franzen creates something similar through her naturalistic approach to interiors and food. Her photography feels like walking through someone’s home on a sunny afternoon, taking in the warmth and texture of daily life.
Lily Rose and Christian Schaffer make me want to pack a bag and get on a plane. Their work exists at the intersection of travel and emotion. It’s not just about beautiful places. It’s about how it feels to be far from home, to chase light through trees or across oceans. When I need to remember that photography can still surprise me, I look at their work.
The Emotional Anchor of Familiar Work
There’s something powerful about having photographers in your orbit who feel like old friends. Their work becomes a reference point, not just creatively but emotionally. Ryan Plett is one of those people for me. Watching him become a photographer helped me understand that this path was possible. His portrait work is grounded and expressive, capturing people with both intimacy and clarity.
Michael Salisbury is another friend and source of inspiration. His range is astonishing—portraits, architecture, editorial work—and yet everything he does feels cohesive. He sees structure and space in a way that makes me think differently about form. João Canziani’s travel photography, especially his series from India, helped shape my early interest in storytelling through place. His work is immersive without being intrusive, detailed without being overwhelming.
Lucy Laucht captures travel with grace and joy. Her photographs are delicate and free, often sun-drenched but never oversaturated. They make me feel like I’m on the verge of an adventure. Similarly, Charissa Fay brings a kind of approachable elegance to her images of city life and travel. Her photography is gentle but precise, calm but full of life.
Each of these photographers offers something unique—technically, stylistically, and emotionally. But what unites them all is a sense of clarity. They know who they are. That’s what I keep coming back to. Not just beautiful photos, but intentional ones. Work that makes me feel something, even if I can’t always explain what or why.
The Power of Visual Storytelling
Photography, at its core, is storytelling. Some photographers use landscapes to explore vastness, others use food to express culture, and still others capture portraits that feel like entire novels compressed into a single frame. The beauty of following a wide range of photographers is seeing how many different ways a story can be told. And for those of us who live in this creative world every day, these stories become both mirrors and windows—reflecting our thoughts and showing us places we haven’t yet explored.
Ann Street Studio, the creative collaboration between Kevin Berg and Jamie Beck, brings a rare combination of technical excellence and emotional richness. Jamie Beck’s work in particular feels timeless. Her still lifes and self-portraits are meticulous and painterly, with an elegance that makes them feel lifted out of another century. And yet they remain grounded, infused with light and vulnerability. Her daily Instagram stories once served as both inspiration and reminder: that the act of creating something beautiful every day is itself a discipline and a calling.
Finn Beales offers another form of storytelling. His work leans into nature, wide open spaces, and quiet moments. But what stands out most is his ability to build a world within each frame. The photos don’t just depict scenes; they suggest chapters. There’s a narrative thread that invites the viewer to imagine what happened just before the shot or what’s about to unfold. His use of light, contrast, and composition all support this immersive effect. And he’s generous with his knowledge—answering questions, sharing process, and helping other photographers navigate their paths.
Then there’s Aiala Hernando, whose avant-garde approach pushes the boundaries of traditional food and still life photography. Her work often feels like a dream sequence—moody, abstract, and emotionally charged. She doesn’t just photograph objects; she elevates them. The line between fashion, food, and fine art blurs in her compositions. It’s a reminder that photography doesn’t need to be literal to be powerful. Sometimes it’s the surreal image that makes the most lasting impression.
Blending Life and Art
Some photographers bring their entire lives into their work, collapsing the boundaries between personal expression and professional output. Asiyami Gold does this beautifully. A creative director, blogger, and photographer, she has built a visual world that is bold, colorful, and deeply personal. Her work is rich with cultural references and aesthetic vision. Each photo is crafted with intention, but there’s also a sense of freedom—a willingness to explore, to change, to reinvent.
The blending of life and art is also present in the work of Lauren Scotti. Her wedding photography stands out in a sea of sameness. Her images don’t just document events; they evoke emotion. There’s a warmth in her approach, a tenderness that allows couples to feel seen and celebrated. And beyond the technical beauty, what shines is her ability to tell love stories in a way that feels both grand and intimate.
Nicole Franzen offers another version of this blend. Her lifestyle photography often feels like stepping into someone else’s well-lit afternoon. The rooms she captures aren’t just pretty—they feel inhabited. The food looks eaten. The air feels soft. There’s something remarkably human about her work, even when it’s editorial. She understands that storytelling doesn’t always require drama. Sometimes all it takes is a thoughtful arrangement, a soft shadow, a passing glance.
Photography at its best feels effortless, even though we know it never is. The best photographers bring their full selves to the frame. They pay attention to the details others miss. They slow down. They trust their instincts. And in doing so, they help the rest of us see more clearly.
Seeing Through Others’ Eyes
Following photographers whose work is nothing like your own is one of the best things you can do creatively. It expands your range and challenges your instincts. For example, Ja Soon Kim’s still lifes are so quiet and meditative that they feel like visual poetry. She photographs fruits, flowers, and found objects with such care that even the most mundane elements become meaningful. Her images are about stillness, structure, and emotion. They remind me that photographs don’t need to shout to be powerful. Silence, when intentional, can hold a profound kind of beauty.
João Canziani takes a different route. His documentary-style travel photography is layered and immersive. His series from India, in particular, was a turning point for me. It taught me that travel photography is not about exoticism or spectacle—it’s about empathy. About stepping into another world with respect, curiosity, and a deep desire to understand. His images aren’t flashy. They’re human. They feel lived in, not curated.
Michael Salisbury, whose work spans from architectural photography to editorial portraits, always impresses me with his range. He has an eye for symmetry and a feel for texture. What I admire most is his adaptability. Whether he’s shooting a towering building or an intimate portrait, his visual signature remains clear. There’s a calm intensity to his work—a sense that each frame was created with both technical mastery and emotional depth.
And then there’s Ryan Plett. His portraiture has a casual strength to it. There’s nothing overproduced or overly styled. The images feel honest and direct. He captures people in moments that feel suspended in time. Watching his photography journey helped me see that becoming a professional doesn’t require a formal path. It requires vision, patience, and courage.
Reimagining What Photography Can Be
The most impactful photographers are often the ones who make you pause and question what photography is even capable of. Are photographs just reflections of what’s in front of us, or can they become portals into something deeper? Can a single image hold both reality and imagination?
Dan Tom seems to answer that with every photo he posts. His images look like oil paintings from a parallel world. His ability to manipulate color, light, and mood gives his work a surreal quality. It’s as if he sees the world through a different lens—one tinted with wonder and softness. His work invites the viewer to reimagine what’s possible with a camera.
Alina Tsvor has a completely different approach but achieves a similar depth. Her portraits are luminous and alive. She captures people with kindness, showing them not just how they look but how they feel. There’s an authenticity in her work that is hard to describe but easy to recognize. She doesn’t impose a style on her subjects. She draws something out of them. Her work is a lesson in empathy and in trusting your artistic instincts.
These photographers remind me that there is no single way to create great work. Some lean into minimalism. Others go maximalist. Some shoot only film. Others embrace the digital realm fully. The only real requirement is care. Care in how you see, how you frame, how you edit, and how you share.
Following their work has made me a better photographer, but more importantly, it’s made me a better observer. A better listener. A better storyteller. Their images have helped sharpen my eye and soften my heart. They’ve helped me remember that photography is not about being seen. It’s about seeing.
Creative Influence and Evolving Taste
Over time, our creative influences shift. The photographers who once served as pillars in our early days may slowly fade, making room for new voices and perspectives. This is not a loss but an evolution. As our interests develop and our work matures, we begin to seek different things—new colors, subtler compositions, a different emotional weight. We no longer look to others to mimic but to stretch our imagination.
One of the great joys of following photographers over the long term is watching their evolution unfold in real time. Nicole Franzen’s early lifestyle work has gradually expanded into travel and interior photography, but her signature remains: soft natural light, compositional clarity, and emotional stillness. There’s a maturity in her recent work that feels like watching a painter refine their brushstroke over the years. It’s not about changing everything. It’s about refining the edges.
Christina Holmes has also expanded her reach without losing her core. Her soulful commercial work stands out in an industry that often feels overly polished or distant. She brings her subjects close, whether it's a product, a plate of food, or a person. Her photography reminds me that clarity of style doesn’t have to mean repetition. You can grow while still being recognizably yourself.
Seeing that kind of growth inspires me to push my boundaries. It reminds me that we are allowed to shift, to change, to experiment. Photography is not a fixed identity; it is a living, breathing extension of how we move through the world. That means our taste will evolve, and that’s a good thing. When our taste evolves, our voice does too.
Curating Inspiration with Intention
In a world flooded with content, it’s easy to fall into the habit of following hundreds of accounts without engaging deeply with any of them. I’ve found that curating my sources of inspiration with more intention has dramatically improved both my creativity and my focus. Rather than trying to absorb everything, I’ve built a smaller, more meaningful orbit of photographers whose work truly resonates.
Lily Rose, for instance, captures travel in a way that feels personal and immersive. Her images are not about landmarks but about moments. A flicker of movement in a window, a shadow across a stairwell, a fleeting expression. These photographs pull you in because they are grounded in emotion, not spectacle. Her work reminds me that a photograph doesn’t have to be loud to be unforgettable.
Charissa Fay documents daily life with a similar lightness. Whether she’s shooting a quiet morning in New York or a sunny stretch of countryside, her images carry an ease that is both calming and compelling. There’s a joy in her work that isn’t forced. It arises from simply paying attention.
Christian Schaffer, on the other hand, makes me want to get in the car and drive west until the city disappears in the rearview. Her landscape photography captures the majesty of the natural world in a way that’s equal parts reverent and wild. Her images make space for awe, and that’s a feeling I don’t want to forget.
Curating your sources of inspiration isn’t about limiting your exposure. It’s about deepening your connection. It’s about following artists whose work doesn’t just please your eye but stirs your spirit. The photographers I return to again and again are the ones who make me ask better questions about my work.
Emotional Resonance and the Human Element
At the heart of all the photographers I follow is a common thread: emotional resonance. Whether they’re shooting still lifes, portraits, weddings, or street scenes, their work connects. It communicates something beyond aesthetics. It has a pulse.
Lauren Scotti’s wedding photography holds this kind of resonance. She has a gift for capturing not just how a moment looked but how it felt. Her photos are joyful but grounded, romantic but real. She sees the chaos and the calm, the quiet exchanges, the loud laughter. Her work is rooted in emotion, which is why it stays with you long after you close the album.
Asiyami Gold, though working in a different style entirely, taps into emotion through storytelling. Her photography blends fashion, portraiture, and documentary into something wholly unique. Each frame feels intentional and layered. Her use of color, texture, and light all work together to amplify the mood she’s trying to create. Following her work makes me think differently about storytelling as a visual language.
Michael Salisbury offers a more structural but no less emotional approach. His architectural photography emphasizes form and space, but there’s a sense of stillness that runs through all of it. He understands not just how to photograph buildings, but how to photograph the spaces we move through every day. He reminds me that even in the most rigid of structures, there is room for feeling.
Following these artists makes me more aware of the emotional temperature of my work. Am I capturing something real, or just arranging something pretty? Does my work breathe, or is it holding its breath? These are the kinds of questions that keep me learning.
Visibility and Artistic Courage
There is no exact formula for what makes a photographer influential. It’s not just about followers or fame or having the sharpest camera. Often, it comes down to visibility and courage—the courage to make honest work, the courage to put it into the world, and the courage to keep going even when no one seems to notice.
Ryan Plett embodies this kind of artistic courage. His portraits are unguarded and raw, without any of the glossy perfection that dominates much of the industry. He shares images that are quiet and slow, photographs that invite the viewer to pause and just look. That kind of restraint is rare. It’s easy to go for the dramatic. It’s much harder to trust subtlety.
João Canziani’s courage lies in his dedication to long-form storytelling. In a world built on immediacy, he spends time. He builds relationships. His photography from India still lingers in my mind, not just because it was beautiful, but because it was patient. That’s the kind of work I aspire to: considered, intentional, and deeply felt.
These photographers show me what it means to stay true to your vision. To shoot what you care about. To tell stories you believe in. They remind me that courage doesn’t always look like big moves or bold colors. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it’s slow. But it’s always intentional.
Sustaining Inspiration Over Time
One of the great challenges for any creative is sustaining inspiration—not just finding it, but returning to it over and over without burning out. Photography, like any art form, is fueled by energy. But that energy has to be nurtured. Following photographers whose work consistently sparks new ideas is part of how I keep that flame alive.
Lucy Laucht is someone I come back to regularly when I need that spark. Her travel photography is evocative and cinematic, full of color and movement, and yet there’s restraint. She captures spaces in between—quiet streets, empty beaches, fleeting light. Her images have a rhythm that feels honest. It reminds me that inspiration doesn’t always come from extremes. It can come from the gentlest shift in perspective.
Similarly, Ja Soon Kim’s still life photography is a masterclass in slowing down. Her compositions are filled with intention. Every leaf, fruit, or stone has a reason for being in the frame. There is an almost meditative quality to her work that feels like a deep exhale. On days when I feel overwhelmed by the rush of content online, I look at her photographs and remember that stillness is its kind of strength.
Photography that endures is often rooted in personal truth. These photographers don’t chase trends. They don’t chase virality. They create with focus, with a sense of self. And because of that, their work has longevity. That’s the kind of inspiration that doesn’t fade after a few swipes—it builds over time.
How These Photographers Shape My Practice
Every artist we follow becomes part of our creative DNA. Their choices influence our own, sometimes consciously and sometimes in the background. I’ve realized that how I frame a shot, how I edit, even how I think about light, has been shaped by the photographers I study and admire.
Penny De Los Santos and Eric Wolfinger, for example, helped me fall in love with food photography. Penny’s documentary approach and Eric’s strong visual narratives showed me that food could be a powerful storytelling device—not just something beautiful to look at but a way to explore culture, memory, and emotion. Their work permitted me to treat food photography as seriously as portraiture or travel.
Marcus Nilsson’s photography, full of energy and texture, taught me to embrace boldness. His scenes feel aliv, unruly, chaotic in the best way. It encouraged me to let go of perfection sometimes and focus on mood. On the opposite end, Nicole Franzen and Christina Holmes reminded me of the value in softness and restraint. Their quieter, more refined images helped me return to simplicity.
There’s also something to be said for learning by proximity. When I look at how Alina Tsvor or Michael Salisbury operate—how they present their work, how they communicate with clients, how they manage creative control—it pushes me to refine not just my photography, but how I move through the industry. Their work ethic is as instructive as their portfolios.
These are the kinds of lessons you can’t get from a tutorial. You absorb them over time by paying attention, by staying close to the work that resonates with you. This is why following great photographers matters—it shapes you from the inside out.
Building Community Through Photography
Following photographers is not just about inspiration—it’s about connection. Behind every image is a person, and many of the photographers I admire have become part of my creative community. Some I’ve met in person, some I’ve only interacted with online, and some I simply follow from a distance. But the connection still matters.
Creative work can be isolating. You spend hours editing alone, emailing clients alone, and doubting your work alone. But when you follow other photographers, you realize you’re not alone at all. They’ve struggled with the same questions. They’ve had the same doubts. Seeing their journeys unfold reminds you that this path is walkable, even when it feels uncertain.
The generosity of photographers like Finn Beales, who openly share knowledge and insight, creates space for others to grow. So does the quiet consistency of someone like Ryan Plett, who keeps showing up, regardless of trends or platforms. These examples of presence—of showing up for the work, for yourself, for your community—are just as impactful as the photographs themselves.
When you build your circle of influence, it becomes easier to push through the hard moments. You’re reminded that growth doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It happens when we share, when we support, and when we stay connected to those walking a similar path.
Looking Ahead with Gratitude
As I reflect on the photographers who’ve inspired me, I feel immense gratitude. Not just for their work, but for the way it continues to shape my own. Photography is a long game. There is no finish line. Just the next image, the next idea, the next evolution. Having these artists in my orbit makes that journey richer.
Some of them I followed from the beginning. Others I only recently discovered. But they each hold a space in my creative world. Their work is a reminder of what is possible when you trust your voice, stay curious, and remain committed to growth.
Whether you're a photographer, a creative in another field, or just someone who enjoys beautiful images, I encourage you to pay attention to what moves you. Save the photo that makes your breath catch. Revisit the image that made you see differently. Follow the artists who remind you why you started creating in the first place.
That’s the point of it all. To see. To be seen. And to keep looking, always.
Conclusion
Photography is more than the click of a shutter. It is a continuous process of noticing, refining, feeling, and evolving. The photographers we follow become signposts on that journey. They challenge our perspective, widen our imagination, and sometimes give us the quiet permission we need to keep going when our vision feels unclear.
In collecting and revisiting these twenty photographers, I’m reminded that inspiration is not a one-time spark. It’s a habit—a conscious decision to stay curious, to look closer, and to learn from those who see differently. Whether their work leans into emotion, abstraction, clarity, or chaos, each of these artists contributes something meaningful to the broader creative landscape.
What I’ve learned in reflecting on their work is this: good photography doesn’t just show you something new, it changes the way you see the familiar. It doesn’t scream for your attention, it holds it quietly. And the photographers who manage to do that again and again are worth following—not just online, but creatively and philosophically.
If you’re building your path in photography or any creative discipline, surround yourself with work that nourishes you. Follow those who bring you back to what matters, whose process aligns with your values, whose voice makes space for yours to grow. Let their vision sharpen yours. Let their courage remind you to be brave. Let their stillness teach you to wait.
In the end, photography is about connection—first with yourself, then with others. These photographers remind me of that every time I return to their work. May they inspire you, too, in whatever way you need right now. Keep looking. Keep making. Keep following what speaks to you.