When I was a child, I harbored a deep fascination with the gear featured in photography magazines. One thing that captured my imagination was a lens filter kit. I saw them occasionally advertised in glossy spreads, particularly in the pages of beautifully curated publications I admired as a kid. Those pages were brimming with far-off landscapes and portraits drenched in light and mystery. Alongside those visuals came equipment filter kits, camera straps, lens cloths—none of which I owned but all of which I longed for.
As a young girl with a five-dollar allowance, the idea of buying a filter kit seemed like saving up for a spaceship. That money often disappeared during trips to the mall or the local movie theater. The reality was clear: my meager funds were no match for my photographic dreams. On top of that, my dad wouldn’t let me anywhere near his Nikon. He had a deep sense of care and reverence for his gear, and I don’t think he trusted my sticky fingers and curious mind around it. It didn’t matter how much I pleaded; he never gave me the chance to test a filter kit or learn how it worked.
But those desires lingered. They became part of my creative DNA. I dreamed not just of taking photos but of making art through experimentation. The idea that I could create dreamy, surreal images simply by placing something over a lens fascinated me. I imagined myself carefully applying filters, turning dials, and creating magic. As a child, I probably would not have known how to use them properly, but the fantasy was enough.
As I grew older and started taking photography seriously, those old wants started to resurface. Only now, I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was an adult with a photography business, and I could write off those dreamy little filter kits as a business expense. This realization felt like a small but significant triumph, a beautiful full-circle moment. All those childish dreams I once had, like owning a lens filter kit or having chocolate cake for dinner, suddenly didn’t feel so far-fetched. That sense of possibility never truly leaves us, and in my case, it became part of my work.
Rediscovering Filters as a Working Photographer
Earlier this year, I added a new lens to my kit, a versatile 24-70mm that I had wanted for some time. While purchasing it, I decided to include a polarizer filter. My practical side reasoned that it would help reduce glare on sunny days. The polarizer ended up being something I only occasionally pulled out. I knew it had its place in certain lighting conditions, but I didn’t use it as often as I thought I would.
That filter sat in my bag, mostly forgotten, until a week when I had a bit of downtime. That’s when an idea returned to me—a small note from a conversation I’d had months earlier. A friend had casually mentioned how photographers in the 70s used vaseline between two filters to create an unpredictable, dreamy blur. The idea was a little wild and messy, which made it even more exciting. I was intrigued, and my curiosity got the better of me. I started doing some digging to find examples.
I searched the web, hoping to find photographs that would show exactly how the technique looked in action. While I did find some tutorials, the majority of examples were too abstract. They looked more like conceptual art than soft focus photography. That wasn’t quite what I wanted. I wasn’t aiming for extreme distortion. I wanted something softer and more romantic. So I decided to try it for myself. Trial and error, as it has so often done, became my teacher once again.
Early Experiments With Vaseline and Saran Wrap
I gathered my materials: a clean filter, a bit of vaseline, and a few hours of creative freedom. My partner, Eli, wasn’t exactly excited to see me walking around with vaseline and camera gear in hand. He gently suggested I start the experiment with something less risky—maybe some plastic wrap. I took his advice and gave the saran wrap method a try. I applied vaseline to the wrap, gently stretched it across the filter, and began shooting.
The results were underwhelming. The photographs looked cloudy in an unpleasant way. The effect didn’t carry the soft, angelic glow I was hoping for. Instead, it reminded me of something far less lovely. I couldn’t help but laugh at my thoughts—it looked like a ghost fart, not a gentle dream. Strange descriptions, I know, but they captured the way the images felt. The visual effect was chaotic and hard to control. What I wanted was something subtle, something that hinted at a memory or a whisper of light. The Saran Wrap didn’t deliver that.
Despite the failure, I knew I was on the right track. The idea had merit. I just needed a better method. So I ditched the plastic wrap entirely and tried a more direct approach. I placed the vaseline right onto my filter. Immediately, things began to change. The smears and smudges were no longer separate from the lens. They were part of the image-making process. I took a few test shots and quickly saw that I was finally getting closer to that elusive soft focus look.
Learning to Control the Vaseline Effect
One thing became obvious very quickly. When working with vaseline, less is more. If you apply too much and then try to wipe it off, you’ll end up with harsh smears that streak across the photo. Those directional marks might work for some artistic styles, but they weren’t what I had in mind. I didn’t want my images to look messy or erratic. I wanted them to look like they were dipped in sunlight.
What worked best for me was dabbing small amounts of vaseline around the outer edge of the filter. By avoiding the center of the glass, I allowed the subject to stay sharp while the edges took on that dreamy haze. I tapped the vaseline gently, using the tips of my fingers to soften the effect. It was a bit messy, but the control I had using this method far exceeded what I got with plastic wrap.
At this point, I was starting to enjoy the process. Each image came out differently. Some had a more pronounced blur while others just hinted at softness. That unpredictability made the experience exciting. I never knew quite what I would get. And that, in many ways, reminded me why I fell in love with photography in the first place.
The soft focus effect reminded me a little bit of tilt-shift photography. It changed the relationship between the subject and the background. It created a sense of depth, but in a romantic, surreal way. In darker settings, the vaseline enhanced the bokeh in the shadows, making them look rich and inviting rather than simply dark. I discovered that the best results came when I used this technique to emphasize a subject, when something in the frame needed a little spotlight.
That’s the magic of this approach. It’s not meant to be perfect. It’s meant to feel like a memory. And in a world that so often demands perfection from every photo, something about embracing imperfection felt rebellious and free.
Why Vaseline Creates a Unique Soft Focus Effect
The beauty of using vaseline on a lens filter is not just in the softness it brings to a photo, but in how it alters the viewer’s emotional perception of the image. Soft focus isn't about creating a blur just for the sake of it. It’s about shifting emphasis. It softens distractions, lets colors bloom a little more gently, and encourages the viewer to settle into the parts of the image that remain clear. It mimics how memory works—how we don’t always remember things in sharp detail but in mood, light, and feeling.
Vaseline, when used correctly, creates this effect effortlessly. It blurs not only the lines and edges in your frame but also blends the transitions between light and shadow. The contrast is still there, but it's more lyrical than stark. This allows photographers to guide their viewers through a scene rather than simply presenting it. In that way, this technique feels more like painting than photography.
It’s important to understand that this look is different from lens fog or digital blur added in post-processing. Those techniques often lack the depth and unpredictable charm that a hand-applied effect gives. Vaseline introduces imperfections—each smear is unique. The light may bend differently with each shot. This lack of control may frustrate some, but for creative photographers, it's an invitation to play.
This unpredictability is one of the reasons why soft focus techniques using vaseline continue to be discussed today. The effect is not locked behind expensive software or rare lenses. It’s accessible, tactile, and strangely human. You’re physically touching your tools and becoming more involved in the creative process, which leads to photos that feel more emotionally resonant.
Debunking the Myth of Famous Vaseline Photography
While exploring this effect, I came across several references to famous soft focus photographs. One of the most commonly mentioned examples is the Ghost in the Machine series by Jacob Sutton. Many people believe that these images were created using vaseline on a lens. They feature ethereal portraits that look as if they were captured through a delicate mist or underwater dreamscape. When I first saw them, I felt both awe and confusion. My vaseline experiments looked nowhere near as flawless. Why was my version producing murky, smeared results while these images looked like visual poetry?
Driven by curiosity, I went deeper. I found the source and examined Sutton’s collection. It didn’t take long to realize that these photos were not created using vaseline at all. They were taken underwater. That detail changed everything. It was clear that water itself was responsible for the effect—the way it refracted light and wrapped the subjects in a surreal haze.
This discovery helped reset my expectations. My disappointment turned into relief. I had been comparing my results to something that had nothing to do with the technique I was exploring. It reminded me how easy it is to fall into the trap of comparison without full context. Photography is filled with illusions, and sometimes even professionals get swept up in them.
After understanding that my goal wasn’t to recreate Sutton’s underwater dreamworld but to build something unique with a different tool, I started to appreciate my results more. They had their charm. The photos were not perfect, but they were mine. They spoke to my process, my experimentation, and my growing ability to shape mood with minimal gear.
My Process: Applying Vaseline to the Filter
Once I moved past the saran wrap phase and committed to direct application, the entire experience became more enjoyable. I started by using a basic UV filter as my canvas. It was a filter I didn’t mind sacrificing for the sake of experimentation. If you’re trying this at home, I highly recommend avoiding your actual lens. Always use a clear filter as a protective layer, because once vaseline is on there, cleaning it can be tricky.
My method was simple. I took a tiny amount of vaseline—less than a pea-sized dab—and tapped it gently around the outer rim of the filter. I used my fingertip, pressing softly to leave behind a thin layer. I avoided the center of the glass because I wanted to preserve at least part of the image in sharp focus. This gave me a central focal point surrounded by haze, which is one of the most visually appealing configurations for soft focus photography.
Each time I tapped more vaseline, I checked the result through the viewfinder. Sometimes I wiped away excess, and other times I shifted the smear to a new spot to test its effect on background lights or shapes. The whole process felt like sculpture—slow, careful adjustments that changed how the image appeared and felt. It was a dance between what I saw and what I hoped the photo would express.
After each round of shooting, I cleaned the filter with lens wipes and started again. This helped me see the difference each small change made. I was learning not just how vaseline behaved on glass but how it affected mood, emotion, and balance within the frame.
Finding the Best Conditions for Soft Focus Photos
Through continued experimentation, I discovered that not every subject or lighting scenario suits a soft focus approach. The effect can sometimes overwhelm the scene, creating a foggy mess rather than a gentle dream. But when used in the right context, it becomes a powerful storytelling tool.
I found the technique especially effective in backlit conditions. When light is coming from behind the subject, it naturally creates a glow. The vaseline amplifies this, turning even ordinary light into something magical. Trees shimmer. Faces radiate. Even urban settings can feel cinematic when the light plays along.
It also works well in settings with a strong contrast between light and shadow. Shadows deepen and become more velvety, while highlights flare just enough to soften edges. This can be ideal for romantic portraits or candid moments that benefit from a touch of nostalgia.
Another great use case is photographing through objects, like windows, plants, or sheer fabric. The soft focus interacts with these foreground elements, adding layers and dimension. It helps tell a deeper story without the need for heavy post-processing or composite work.
That said, I also learned when to hold back. Busy environments with too many lines or clashing colors don’t always benefit from additional blur. In those cases, the vaseline softens everything too much and can make the image feel muddy. Restraint became as important as experimentation. It was about knowing when to lean in and when to pull back.
Limitations and Challenges of the Vaseline Technique
Despite its charm, the vaseline method comes with clear drawbacks. The most obvious one is the mess. Vaseline is greasy. It sticks to everything—your fingers, your camera bag, your sleeves. Even when you apply it carefully, you’re likely to end up with smudged hands and a vague sense of regret if you’re not prepared.
Another limitation is time. This is not a technique that works well in fast-paced environments. During a wedding or commercial shoot, there isn’t room for trial and error. You need speed, precision, and control. Applying vaseline, checking results, making changes, and cleaning the filter takes time. It interrupts the flow of shooting. In client-facing situations, that’s rarely acceptable.
This realization hit me during a wedding I shot recently. I had hoped to try the soft focus look on a few portraits during the golden hour. I brought my extra filter and a travel-sized tub of vaseline. But as the timeline ran tight and the sun dipped lower, I realized there simply wasn’t enough room to experiment. The risk of ruining a key photo with a failed blur was too high. So I let it go.
This doesn’t mean the technique isn’t valuable. It just means it has a specific place in your toolkit. For personal projects, test shoots, or conceptual portraits, it shines. But for high-stakes events, it’s better left for another time.
Embracing the Imperfect Beauty of Handmade Effects
The deeper I went into my vaseline experiments, the more I started to appreciate the subtle imperfections they introduced. In a world where photography often leans heavily into technical perfection, something is refreshing about a method that refuses to be entirely controlled. Each swipe of vaseline, each smear or dab, changed the image in ways that I couldn’t always predict. That uncertainty used to make me uncomfortable. But this time, it felt freeing. Photography became less about chasing flawless results and more about welcoming unpredictability.
These soft focus images started to feel more personal. They captured not only my subject but also my creative intent—my willingness to risk imperfection in search of mood and story. When light hit the smeared filter just right, it was like the photo breathed differently. It no longer looked like a precise documentation of reality. It looked like a memory, warm and alive and touched by something intangible.
This is the charm of analog-style effects. They reconnect us with photography’s emotional core. Digital editing, while powerful, can often flatten feeling into precision. But techniques like this—ones that leave room for texture, blur, and human error—bring soul back into the frame. They remind us that photography is just as much about how a scene feels as it is about how it looks.
Over time, I noticed something else. These soft focus images invited viewers to slow down. Because they weren’t sharp edge to edge, they encouraged the eye to wander. People lingered on them longer, trying to understand the light, the blur, and the story beneath it. That alone was enough to convince me that this messy little trick had a rightful place in my creative process.
How This Technique Changed My Perspective on Gear
One unexpected benefit of working with vaseline was how it shifted my relationship with gear. As photographers, we’re constantly encouraged to upgrade, invest, and expand our equipment. New lenses, faster cameras, better lights—we’re told these are the keys to improving our work. And while tools do matter, I’ve learned that creative thinking matters even more.
This low-cost experiment proved that beautifully atmospheric images don’t require expensive gear. All it took was a basic filter, a bit of vaseline, and a willingness to play. The photos I created using this setup rivaled the feeling I got from high-end portrait lenses with wide apertures. They weren’t technically perfect, but they were rich in feeling, which to me is the ultimate goal.
It made me rethink the way I approach photography. Sometimes we become so fixated on having the latest tools that we forget to explore the potential of what we already own. Creativity is not always about access. It’s about vision. About knowing how to stretch a tool’s use beyond what the manual says it can do.
The vaseline method reminded me that limitations can be good for the creative mind. When we have fewer choices, we are pushed to go deeper, not wider. Instead of reaching for a new lens to create a soft background, I reached for a bit of petroleum jelly and rediscovered a lost art. It felt more hands-on, more involved, and ultimately more satisfying.
This shift in mindset extended beyond filters. I began to approach all my gear with a fresh eye. I looked for ways to misuse or repurpose items in ways that sparked emotion. Whether it was shooting through old glass, layering netting over the lens, or using natural light reflectively, I started to see photography less as a technical pursuit and more as a craft. That has made all the difference.
Practical Advice for First-Time Users
If you’re thinking about trying this technique yourself, there are a few things I’d recommend keeping in mind to make the process smoother. First and foremost, use a cheap or spare filter that you don’t mind getting greasy. Never apply vaseline directly to your camera lens. No matter how careful you are, there’s always a risk of it seeping into crevices or damaging the coating. A simple UV or clear filter is all you need as a base layer.
Next, don’t overdo it. Start with the tiniest bit of vaseline, dabbed lightly around the edges of the filter. You can always add more, but it’s harder to remove once it’s smudged in. A Q-tip or makeup applicator can help if you want more control. But even your fingertip will do just fine.
Shoot in good lighting conditions. Golden hour is ideal because it naturally adds warmth and glow to the photos. The vaseline enhances this glow, making the whole scene feel like it’s dipped in nostalgia. Avoid flat lighting or heavy shadows until you get a feel for how the effect interacts with the available light.
Be patient with yourself. Your first few attempts may not look the way you imagined. That’s okay. Take time to review your images and make adjustments. Try changing the density of the smear, altering your angle to the light, or placing subjects at different depths. Like any artistic technique, it gets better with practice.
And finally, clean your filter thoroughly afterward. Use proper lens wipes or a cleaning solution to remove all residue. Store the vaseline separately in a sealed container to prevent accidental smears in your camera bag. These small precautions make the experience far more enjoyable.
Emotional Impact of Soft Focus Imagery
The photos I created using vaseline on my filter were not just soft in appearance—they were soft in feeling. They brought with them a sense of calm and quiet, of moments suspended in time. The edges weren’t harsh. The transitions weren’t abrupt. Everything felt slower, more intentional. This had a significant emotional impact not just on the photos themselves, but on the experience of creating them.
Soft focus photography taps into something very human. We don’t always remember our lives in perfect clarity. Some memories are sharper than others, but most are tinged with emotion, shaped by time, and softened by distance. Using vaseline to create a visual version of that emotional truth made my photography feel more honest.
This was especially evident when I photographed subjects that already had an emotional weight, like an elderly couple holding hands, or a child staring out a window. In sharp focus, these scenes might look clinical or overly polished. But with a soft blur, they became stories. The details that mattered came into focus, while everything else faded gently into the background.
These kinds of images stay with people. They don’t just pass by in a scroll. They resonate. And that resonance is one of the most powerful tools a photographer has. It’s the difference between a picture and a memory. Between documentation and art.
That emotional richness has continued to influence the rest of my work. Even when I’m not using vaseline, I now think more carefully about how my technical choices affect mood. I consider how light, shadow, blur, and texture come together to create not just a scene, but a feeling. That shift in thinking has made me a more intuitive and thoughtful artist.
Using Soft Focus in Personal Projects
One of the most fulfilling aspects of using vaseline for soft focus photography is how naturally it fits into personal creative projects. When there are no client expectations to meet, no deadlines to follow, and no technical constraints to consider, the door opens wide for experimentation. This is the space where photography feels the most honest, where the art form becomes more about curiosity and less about perfection.
I found myself turning to the vaseline technique during quiet weekends, long walks, or time spent at home. I’d grab my camera and filter, apply a small amount of vaseline, and wander into the light, looking for something simple but meaningful to capture. It could be a patch of flowers swaying in the wind, the way sunlight filtered through curtains, or the expression on a loved one’s face. These weren’t portfolio pieces. They were visual notes—tiny love letters to fleeting beauty.
Because I wasn’t working under pressure, I gave myself full permission to fail. Not every photo turned out well. Some were too blurry, some too hazy, some just didn’t carry the emotional tone I was aiming for. But within those imperfect frames were moments that reminded me why I picked up a camera in the first place. The joy was in the trying, in the making, in the presence that creative play demands.
Over time, these images began to form a quiet collection of their own. They didn’t need to be sold or shared. They didn’t need captions or praise. They existed for me. And in that way, they became among my most valuable photographs. The process of creating them taught me to slow down, to see differently, and to find worth in softness. They also reminded me that personal work is not just an indulgence but a vital part of growth.
Every photographer needs this space—to try techniques that might not work, to follow strange ideas, to discover unexpected textures and colors. Vaseline photography opened that door for me in a way I hadn’t anticipated. It brought back a sense of play I hadn’t realized I’d lost. That alone made every smeared filter and wiped lens entirely worth it.
Considering the Technique for Portraits and Weddings
As I became more confident with the vaseline method, I started thinking about how it might be used beyond personal work. The most obvious next step was portraiture. Soft focus has long been associated with portrait photography. It flatters skin tones, reduces harshness, and adds an intimate glow that’s difficult to recreate in post-production. With this in mind, I began testing the technique in controlled settings.
I set up a few portrait sessions where I could work slowly and intentionally. Friends volunteered to sit for me, and I explained that the results might be a bit dreamy or different from usual. What emerged were images that looked cinematic and nostalgic. The sharpness was concentrated in the eyes, while the edges of the frame melted into light and softness. Faces seemed to float in the image, held gently in a warm, romantic atmosphere.
These tests gave me confidence, and I began considering how this technique might work at weddings. The emotional weight of a wedding day makes it the perfect setting for soft focus storytelling. A couple’s first look, a quiet moment before the ceremony, or a slow dance under twinkling lights—all of these scenes are ripe for a touch of softness.
However, weddings are also unpredictable and fast-paced. There isn’t always time to stop and carefully apply vaseline, check results, and clean up. I realized I would need to be strategic. If I were to incorporate this method into my wedding workflow, it would have to be reserved for specific moments. Perhaps during the getting-ready portion of the day or a sunset portrait session, when things naturally slow down.
I also had to consider the mess. Vaseline is not something I’d want near my main working lens during a paid shoot. So I planned to bring a separate filter already prepped and wrapped safely for quick access. It would allow me to switch lenses, take a few soft focus shots, and then return to regular coverage without much disruption.
Still, I approached this with caution. The softness may not suit every couple or every wedding style. Some clients love sharp, clean images, while others gravitate toward moodier aesthetics. As always, knowing your client’s taste is crucial. For the right couple, though, this could be a beautiful way to add variety and storytelling depth to their gallery. It’s not about using the technique for every shot; it’s about knowing when and where it can elevate the moment.
The Importance of Keeping Play in Your Process
Whether you’re a beginner with a borrowed camera or a professional with years of experience, one truth remains the same: photography thrives when we allow space for play. It’s easy to get caught up in the technical demands, the business pressures, and the need to keep up with trends. But without moments of exploration, our work can begin to feel mechanical.
Trying something as simple and strange as vaseline on a filter is a reminder that the most memorable images often come from surprise, not strategy. This technique reconnected me with the idea that not every photo has to be planned to the last pixel. Sometimes, the best results come when you lean into imperfection, let go of control, and see what happens.
It also encouraged me to be more forgiving with myself. Not every experiment will yield brilliance, and that’s okay. The goal is not to be flawless—it’s to stay curious. Every smear on the filter was a question: what will this do to the light? What will this do to the story? Even when the answers weren’t what I expected, they always taught me something valuable.
I believe all artists need rituals like this. Small, repeatable actions that pull us out of routine and into discovery. For me, vaseline became one of those rituals. It was a way to pause, get my hands a little messy, and rediscover the emotional side of image-making. It was a return to childlike wonder, but with the tools and knowledge I’ve gained as an adult.
So even if I don’t use it every day or in every shoot, I carry the lesson with me. Keep experimenting. Keep making space for whimsy. Keep your creative tools a little dirty.
Final Thoughts on the Vaseline Soft Focus Technique
Looking back on my journey with this technique, I see it not just as a photographic experiment but as a creative turning point. It started with a simple memory of wanting a filter kit as a child, evolved through playful trial and error, and eventually became a meaningful part of how I approach photography. It reminded me that some of the best tools aren’t bought in a store, they’re discovered in the process.
Vaseline soft focus photography is not for everyone. It requires patience, a tolerance for mess, and a willingness to let go of control. But for those who enjoy storytelling, mood, and atmosphere, it offers something hard to find in any preset or plug-in. It adds a layer of emotional complexity that’s rich with texture and memory.
More than anything, this technique taught me to trust my instincts. To stop worrying about doing things the “right” way and to start listening to what my images were trying to say. It helped me find balance between the technical and the poetic, between precision and play.
Today, I carry a small container of vaseline in my camera bag. It’s a gentle reminder that even amid commercial work, there’s always room for softness for haze, glow, and quiet magic. It’s not about returning to the past. It’s about honoring the parts of ourselves that once looked at the world and saw wonder in light and blur.
And if you ever find yourself stuck or uninspired, I highly recommend trying it for yourself. Grab a filter, add a tiny dab of vaseline, and walk out into the golden light. You might not capture the perfect shot. But you’ll feel something. And sometimes, that’s all the inspiration you need.
Conclusion
What began as a nostalgic longing for a childhood dream—a simple lens filter kit evolved into a creative exploration of softness, emotion, and the imperfect beauty of handmade effects. Using vaseline as a soft focus tool reconnected me with the essence of photography: not the sharpest image, not the most expensive gear, but the feeling behind the frame.
Through each experiment, I learned that creativity doesn’t require perfection. It requires courage to try, to fail, and to see familiar tools in unfamiliar ways. Vaseline on a filter taught me how to embrace blur, how to highlight what matters by softening what doesn’t, and how to let go of control in favor of atmosphere and story.
More than a trick or gimmick, this method became a reminder that artistry lives in the small things: the dab of light on a cheek, the glow around a silhouette, the haze that turns a moment into memory. In a world that often demands clarity and precision, allowing space for softness is both rebellious and deeply human.
So, whether you're a seasoned photographer or just beginning, don't be afraid to play. To smear a bit of vaseline, step into the light, and see what the world looks like through a softened lens. You might just discover that your best images aren’t the perfectly sharp ones, but the ones that feel most alive.