I rarely work with prop stylists. When I was starting, I collaborated with a few, but it never quite worked for me. Instead of enhancing the shoot, it often felt like there were too many cooks in the kitchen. Perhaps I haven’t yet found the ideal stylist who complements my vision, but for now, I’ve embraced taking full creative control.
Over time, I’ve taken the lead in sourcing props for food photography. I love ceramics and textiles, and I’ve saved more tabs of bowls, plates, and linens than I probably should. Recently, I’ve been shooting more from home, and all the seemingly random props I picked up over the years have proved immensely useful.
Building a Foundation for Prop Sourcing
Even after years of experience, my approach to sourcing props remains thoughtful and grounded. For beginners, large home goods stores and easy-access online platforms are a good starting point. These places are often well-stocked and typically less expensive than artisan-made pieces, though there are exceptions.
Basic serveware, such as plates and bowls, is essential. I usually limit myself to two or four of any item unless I anticipate using more for a specific shoot. Space constraints and budget considerations help guide these decisions. Simple and neutral-toned serveware is often the most flexible across multiple projects.
Making Quick Purchases in a Pinch
There are times when tight deadlines or very specific needs require urgent solutions. In those moments, fast-shipping platforms become necessary. I’ve bought glasses and linens this way, but only when I truly have no alternative. These purchases are rarely my first choice, but they serve a practical purpose when time is limited.
Not every urgent buy turns out perfectly. I once bought a cocktail-making kit at the last minute that looked great for the shoot, but it began rusting after just one use. It worked, but it wasn’t something I’d use again. For background accents like decorative candles or quirky objects, quick purchases during sales sometimes offer value, especially when durability isn't the top priority.
Knowing When to Invest and When to Restrain
There’s a tempting world of high-end props that often appears through targeted ads or online browsing. These beautiful items can elevate a photo, but also carry a hefty price tag. It’s easy to get drawn in, so I remind myself to stay focused and disciplined. I try to resist going overboard when something is visually stunning but doesn't fit within my style or needs.
Some prop stores cater well to a clean, minimal aesthetic, which aligns with my style preferences. When I see pieces that match both my vision and the project's purpose, I make careful, intentional purchases. This mindset helps keep my prop collection manageable and cohesive.
Balancing Light and Dark Elements in Props
When it comes to food photography, the tone and mood of the image heavily influence the prop selection. For bright, airy compositions, I prefer using props with light colors and soft textures. Light props enhance vibrancy, help food colors pop, and lend a fresh, inviting feel to the overall frame. These props work especially well in daytime or natural light settings, where shadow is minimal and details are crisp.
On the other hand, dark props can be incredibly powerful when shooting more dramatic imagery. Deep-toned ceramics, black linens, and moody backgrounds allow for bold food subjects to stand out. These choices add depth, contrast, and a more intimate ambiance to the final image. Whether I’m shooting a rustic stew or a decadent chocolate dessert, dark props help communicate richness and sophistication.
Shopping with Intention in Higher-End Stores
Occasionally, I explore more curated stores that cater to a modern, design-forward aesthetic. These shops often feature everything from handmade glassware to sculptural bowls and are ideal when I'm in search of something visually unique. Though the items are often expensive, I treat these stores as places to find statement pieces—props that will appear again and again in my work.
That said, restraint is essential. I’ve learned through experience to avoid unnecessary purchases. If I'm heading into one of these stores with a particular project in mind, I establish clear limits for myself. For example, I might decide to only buy two plates or one serving dish, and I stay true to that decision even when tempted. It’s easy to get sidetracked by things that don’t serve a clear purpose for a current or future shoot.
Letting Style Guide the Selection
As I’ve developed a more defined visual identity, my prop choices have followed suit. I gravitate toward pieces that complement a style that could best be described as modern minimal with a touch of warmth. Clean lines, matte finishes, and subtle textures dominate my collection. My goal is for the props to support the story of the food rather than overpower it.
Glassware, in particular, is an area where I’ve noticed my preferences become more specific. I look for sleek shapes with distinctive silhouettes. When paired with simple linens and natural wood or stone surfaces, these pieces help construct layered compositions that feel effortless yet refined.
Discovering Artist-Made Pieces for a Personal Touch
While mainstream stores provide accessibility and ease, artist-made props bring personality and soul into food photography. Over the years, I’ve fallen in love with small-batch ceramics, handmade textiles, and one-of-a-kind pieces. These props not only add texture and authenticity but also tell a story within the frame. They speak to the hand behind the object, and that adds another dimension to the image.
Finding these pieces is often a matter of patience. Some of my favorite finds came from browsing through craft markets, keeping tabs on small studios, or even acting on Instagram recommendations. When I come across a piece that resonates deeply with my aesthetic, I bookmark it. If it fits my budget and I know I’ll use it in multiple shoots, I’ll eventually invest in it.
Investing in Ceramics with Character
Ceramics are one of the most expressive prop categories I use in food photography. The texture, glaze, and shape of a handmade plate or bowl can subtly influence the mood of an image. Over time, I’ve collected a range of pieces that each bring their charm—some with rich, dark glazes that catch the light in a soft, matte finish, others with irregular rims and textures that give an artisanal feel.
I recently treated myself to a long-admired piece as a birthday gift. It had been on my wishlist for years, and the moment it arrived, I knew it was worth the wait. Acquiring these kinds of pieces often requires following an artist closely, knowing when restocks happen, and sometimes even racing against time to check out before everything sells out. While it might seem excessive, it’s exciting and rewarding. The thrill of adding something so special to my collection is hard to match.
Embracing the Element of Surprise
One of the joys of working with artisan-made props is the element of surprise that sometimes comes with the process. Shipping delays or long lead times can be frustrating at first, but they often end up becoming part of the experience. There have been times when I placed an order, forgot about it entirely, and then weeks later received a beautifully wrapped package at my door. It feels like receiving a gift from a past version of myself—unexpected, thoughtful, and entirely welcome.
I still remember one piece in particular: a hand-thrown bowl I had been excited about. It took much longer than expected to arrive, but the moment I unboxed it, I knew it was something special. It instantly became a favorite, not just because of its look, but because of the anticipation and joy that came with it. The delay only made it feel more personal, as if it had traveled a long way just for me.
Every handcrafted item carries its quirks and personality. Whether it’s a slightly uneven rim, a glaze that flows differently across the surface, or the surprising weight of the piece in your hands, these unique features are what set handmade props apart. They’re not perfect in the conventional sense, but that’s precisely what makes them so visually rich and emotionally engaging. These are the kinds of details that add depth to a photograph, and it’s why I find myself returning to these pieces over and over again in my work.
Finding Drama in Matte and Minimal
Among all the prop styles I work with, matte ceramics—especially in dark, moody tones—stand out as some of the most compelling and visually striking. They’re also, unfortunately, one of the harder types of props to source affordably. For years, I found myself drawn to matte black and deep charcoal ceramics because of the way they add drama and sophistication to an image. They bring a level of contrast and quiet intensity that’s difficult to achieve with glossier or lighter pieces. But despite their appeal, I often encountered a frustrating reality: most of the options available were prohibitively expensive.
Many of the pieces I admired were made by renowned ceramic artists or luxury homeware brands, and while their craftsmanship was undeniable, their price tags put them far outside the range of what I could regularly invest in. I would bookmark them, admire them from afar, and hope that one day a more affordable option would surface—something that didn’t sacrifice design or quality but also didn’t require blowing an entire shoot budget on a single plate.
Eventually, I discovered a brand designed by a food stylist who clearly understood the balance between function, beauty, and affordability. Their matte black ceramics were everything I had been looking for: minimal in form, rich in tone, with just the right amount of handmade character. The pricing was reasonable, and the designs were tailored to food photography, meaning they weren’t just beautiful to look at but incredibly practical to work with on set.
These pieces quickly earned a permanent place in my rotation. Their matte surfaces photograph exceptionally well under both natural and artificial lighting, diffusing highlights instead of reflecting harsh glares. That quality alone makes them an asset when I’m working with glossy foods or items that need subtle contrast. The muted finish allows textures—whether it’s the flakiness of a pastry or the creaminess of a sauce—to stand out more vividly.
Beyond their light-handling properties, matte black ceramics offer emotional and visual weight. There’s something inherently grounded about them. The deep, inky tone of the black clay body adds an earthy richness that feels solid and intentional. They’re not flashy or decorative, but their quiet presence is bold in its way. When paired with vibrant foods—bright citrus, fresh greens, or golden crusts—the contrast is immediate and impactful. The food becomes the focal point, elevated by the understated elegance of the background.
One of the reasons I love working with these pieces is their versatility. Despite their strong visual presence, they’re incredibly adaptable. A matte black plate can appear minimalist and modern in one shoot, and rustic and intimate in another, depending on how it's styled. The simplicity of the shape—a gentle curve, a flat base, a soft lip—makes it easy to pair with other props, whether it’s natural linens, dark wood surfaces, or vintage cutlery. These ceramics don’t fight for attention; they support the scene.
Another subtle advantage is how they perform across different seasons and moods. In colder months, they lend themselves well to deep, comforting dishes like braises, stews, or holiday spreads. In summer, they provide a neutral canvas for colorful salads, grilled fruits, or chilled desserts. Their chameleon-like ability to shift tone depending on the composition makes them one of the most reliable tools in my styling arsenal.
And then there’s the tactile aspect. Holding a matte ceramic piece—feeling its texture, its weight, its slight imperfections—adds to the creative process. These props invite a kind of mindfulness. They ask you to slow down, to consider how a dish is plated, how shadows fall across the surface, how the food interacts with the form beneath it. It’s a subtle but meaningful shift in how I work. I find myself paying more attention, making more deliberate choices, and connecting more fully with the process of composing a scene.
Over time, I’ve collected more matte and minimal ceramics—not just in black, but in deep blues, soft greys, and muted earth tones. Each new addition opens up new styling possibilities. Some were found at local pottery studios. Others were the result of hours spent browsing online shops or artist marketplaces. Every time I come across a piece that feels aligned with my aesthetic—clean, minimal, but with warmth and soul—I take note. Sometimes I buy it right away, and other times I wait. I’ve learned not to rush the process.
The appeal of matte minimalism lies in its quiet confidence. These props don’t scream for attention, but they bring structure, intention, and elegance to a photograph. They’re subtle yet powerful. In a world overflowing with trends and decorative excess, they remind me that simplicity can be just as evocative—if not more so—than complexity. And that’s why I keep returning to them, shoot after shoot.
Personal Connections to the Craft
Some of the most meaningful props in my collection are those that carry a personal connection, especially when I know the hands that made them. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of building relationships with a few local artists and ceramicists whose work I admire deeply. One artist in particular, based right here in my city, has become a friend. Our creative paths crossed a while back, and since then, I’ve followed her work closely. One day, I bought a handmade mug from her studio, telling myself it was for a future shoot. In reality, that mug quickly became part of my daily life.
I now use it almost every morning for coffee, and each time I do, it feels special—not just because it’s beautiful and well-crafted, but because I know the person behind it. I know the thought, technique, and intention that went into shaping it. That kind of connection infuses the object with more than just aesthetic value—it brings warmth and meaning into both my routine and my work.
These kinds of props transcend their practical function. They’re not just items that sit in the background of a styled shot—they become extensions of my personal life. A plate might remind me of a birthday meal. A linen napkin might have been a souvenir from a weekend market stroll. A bowl might have been purchased during a creative high point, or maybe even when I needed inspiration. Whatever the story, these objects are woven into the fabric of my everyday moments, and that emotional thread makes them more powerful in my photography. Including pieces like these in a shoot adds an unspoken layer of authenticity. The viewer might not know the story behind the object, but that story shapes the energy of the image in subtle ways. Props with personal connections often bring a grounded, lived-in feeling that no mass-produced item can replicate. It’s as if those personal memories and associations leave behind a trace—something intangible, but still very present. Over time, I’ve come to see my prop collection as more than just a toolkit. It’s a kind of visual diary—a gathering of objects that reflect where I’ve been, who I’ve met, what I’ve experienced, and what inspires me. And as that collection continues to grow, so too does its emotional depth. Each addition isn’t just about how it looks on camera; it’s about what it brings to the creative process and what it represents in my life.
Embracing Character Through Travel and Antiques
Some of the most distinctive and treasured props in my collection weren’t purchased with food photography in mind at all. Instead, they came into my life through moments of curiosity, spontaneity, and discovery—often while traveling or browsing antique shops. These pieces stand apart because they carry with them a sense of history, place, and personal memory. Unlike mass-produced items that can feel too perfect or sterile, these found objects are rich in texture, marked by time, and often irregular in a way that adds authenticity to a photograph.
Many of these pieces are unique—worn wooden utensils, faded linens, chipped enamel plates, or hand-embroidered cloths. Some have scratches, rust, or patina that tell a silent story. These imperfections aren’t flaws; they’re visual evidence of a life lived. And when included in a styled frame, they lend a quiet, grounded beauty that’s difficult to replicate with anything new. They create a layered composition that doesn’t just show the food, but hints at a scene—something that has context and character.
When I travel, I’ve developed the habit of looking for small, packable objects—things that can safely fit into my luggage without too much worry. I gravitate toward spoons, small bowls, carved trays, handwoven textiles, and decorative items that I can repurpose for styling. What started as an occasional, casual habit has now become a deliberate practice. I carve out time during every trip to explore local flea markets, craft fairs, or tucked-away shops. These moments of exploration often become some of my favorite travel memories—slow walks through aisles of dusty treasures, conversations with local artisans, or the serendipity of stumbling upon something special in an unexpected place.
Each of these props carries more than just visual charm—they carry emotion. A spoon from a roadside stall in Thailand, a tiny ceramic bowl from a Japanese studio, or a linen napkin from a village market in Italy all bring not just their design into a photo, but also the essence of where they came from. Even if the viewer doesn’t know the origin story, there’s something inherently compelling about objects that have traveled through different hands, spaces, and cultures.
Over time, these travel finds have become the soul of my prop collection. While they may not always be the most practical or reusable pieces, they are the ones I reach for when I want a photograph to feel special, grounded, or intimate. They help elevate a scene from something polished to something personal. They make the viewer feel like they’ve stepped into a lived-in space, one with stories and depth.
Antique stores offer a similar kind of magic. I’ve spent hours digging through secondhand shops, thrift markets, and estate sales, sifting through dusty shelves in search of hidden gems. The joy lies in the unpredictability. You never know what you’ll find—a vintage cake stand, a delicate etched glass, or a well-loved wooden board. These items often come with no backstory at all, but their wear and age give them one anyway. They already hold a presence, and that presence brings mood and texture to a photograph.
Ultimately, building a prop collection through travel and antique hunting is not just about aesthetics—it’s about connection. It’s about finding joy in the process of discovery and allowing your collection to reflect your journey, both creatively and personally. These pieces become markers of time and place in your life. They’re not just styling tools; they’re artifacts of your own story.
And in photography, where everything is composed with intention, the presence of a prop that means something to you can be felt in the final image. It adds authenticity. It adds depth. And it reminds me why I fell in love with food photography in the first place—not just for the food, but for the stories that live around it.
Creating a Collection That Reflects You
No matter where a prop comes from—an antique shop, a market abroad, or a local ceramic studio—the goal is always the same: to build a collection that reflects personal taste and enhances storytelling through imagery. I’ve learned to be selective, to look for pieces that feel like an extension of my style and voice. The best collections aren’t the biggest; they’re the most thoughtful and versatile.
Every object should earn its place. That doesn’t mean everything has to be minimal or neutral, but it should align with the visual language you want to speak through your photos. I mix high-end ceramics with flea market finds, custom textiles with household napkins. A good collection evolves, shaped by time, curiosity, and creativity.
Letting Objects Inspire the Scene
There are times when I start planning a shoot not with the food in mind, but with a prop. A beautifully glazed plate or a handwoven napkin might spark the idea for the entire setup. I allow the colors, textures, and shapes to guide how I plate the food, what light I choose, and how I compose the image. This reverse approach has helped me see props not just as background elements, but as collaborators in the creative process.
When the right object meets the right dish, it feels natural and elevated. A muted bowl can pull color from herbs, a worn wooden surface can echo the rustic feel of bread, and a delicately curved spoon can soften a hard-edged frame. Props hold power when used with purpose. They don’t have to be loud to make an impact—they just need to feel intentional.
Continuing the Search for Meaningful Pieces
Even now, with shelves full of plates, bowls, textiles, and glassware, I’m still looking. I bookmark new artists. I walk through vintage stores with an open mind. I browse markets on weekends. And often, I say no more than I say yes. I believe in letting a collection breathe—leaving room for future additions that are meaningful, beautiful, and useful. Props in food photography are more than tools; they are the silent partners in every frame. They carry emotion, history, style, and story. When selected thoughtfully and used intentionally, they turn simple ingredients into art. That’s why the hunt never really ends. It becomes part of the craft itself.
Conclusion:
The process of sourcing props for food photography is as much about personal expression as it is about practicality. Over time, your collection becomes a visual reflection of your taste, experiences, and creative instincts. Each item—whether found on a spontaneous trip, ordered from a favorite artist, or picked up during a hurried deadline—has a role to play in shaping the aesthetic and emotional quality of your images. The journey to finding the right props doesn’t happen all at once. It evolves naturally, shot by shot, decision by decision. Along the way, you begin to recognize what draws your eye and what supports your style. You learn to say no to trends that don’t align with your work and to hold out for pieces that truly resonate. The goal is not to gather the most or the rarest, but to build a collection that feels cohesive and honest to your visual storytelling. Props do more than fill a frame—they create texture, tone, and mood. They bring depth to your work and open space for interpretation. When thoughtfully selected, props become invisible in the best way, supporting the subject without distraction. They allow the food to shine, while quietly enriching the story you're trying to tell.