My journey into the world of diving and underwater photography began almost simultaneously. In early 2014, I became a certified diver in the coastal waters of California. From the very first dive, I was captivated by the underwater world’s vibrancy, mystery, and serenity. The beauty was so profound that I felt compelled to share it with others, especially with my family and close friends. I realized that words alone could not adequately describe the feeling of being surrounded by such stunning marine life. Photography quickly became the bridge between the underwater world I was discovering and the people in my life who had never experienced it firsthand.
At first, I bought a compact underwater camera, just enough to take decent shots of reef fish and macro subjects. I was hooked instantly. I began reading every available resource on underwater photography, studying lighting, composition, and marine behavior. One of the most influential books in my early learning was The Underwater Photographer by Martin Edge, which I read multiple times. The more I learned, the more I wanted to dive and photograph, and the more my gear evolved.
Several years passed, and with each dive, my skills and confidence behind the camera improved. Eventually, I upgraded to a Nikon D7200 DSLR, paired with dual Sea & Sea YS-D1 strobes, a Tokina 10–17mm fisheye lens, and a Nauticam housing. This setup opened a whole new world of photographic possibilities for me. The control, sharpness, and lighting options it provided were beyond anything I had previously used. From that point forward, I started focusing more seriously on wide-angle shots and behaviors in marine life, rather than just static portraits of fish or coral.
The moment when everything aligned for the "Octopus with Sunball" image was built on these years of practice, experimentation, and the willingness to spend dive after dive patiently observing the world beneath the waves. That image didn’t just happen by chance. It was a culmination of curiosity, persistence, and a deep appreciation for the fleeting and unpredictable nature of ocean life.
The Unexpected Encounter at Catalina Island
The image that would later win the Best in Show at the SoCal Shootout in 2018 came from one of the most unforgettable dives of my life. I had joined a trip aboard the Sundiver Express, heading out to the front side of Catalina Island. I was excited but had no specific subject in mind that day. My only goal was to stay alert and make the most of whatever opportunities presented themselves.
During the first dive at a site called Little Gieger, about 15 to 20 minutes in, I spotted a flash of movement at the base of a rocky pinnacle. Tucked into the reef was a California two-spot octopus. At first, it seemed shy, hiding itself deep within the cracks and crevices of the rock. I tried not to disturb it, choosing instead to photograph a nearby sea fan while keeping one eye on the octopus in case it moved.
After just a few frames of the sea fan, something remarkable happened. The octopus began to emerge from its hiding place and started walking along the reef. It was no longer concerned with me or my presence. Its attention was focused on food. I floated back slightly and observed as it began to hunt.
What followed was a breathtaking display of natural behavior. The octopus would stretch out its arms across the reef, probing into holes and crevices. With each attempt, it would puff up like a balloon and turn a ghostly shade of white. This inflation behavior and color change were signs that it was attempting to trap prey hidden beneath the rocks.
For more than 30 minutes, I stayed with the octopus, watching this incredible display of intelligence and adaptability. It moved with purpose and intensity, using its body like a tool—searching, prodding, and ambushing. During this time, I remained still and quiet, letting the moment unfold naturally. It was a privilege to witness this kind of behavior in such clarity and proximity.
The octopus’s actions felt personal and wild at the same time, as though I was getting a rare peek into its daily life. And because it had stopped paying attention to me, I had the chance to start thinking seriously about how to frame and light the shot in a way that would capture both the animal’s behavior and the environment it was in.
Positioning and Timing the Perfect Background
As the octopus continued its food search, I began thinking about how to create a dramatic composition that would do justice to the scene. I didn’t want just a close-up of the octopus. I wanted to include the habitat, the water column, and especially the sun overhead, which was casting rays through the water like a spotlight.
I slowly moved around the octopus, positioning myself so that the sun would be directly behind it. This is a challenging type of shot. If done incorrectly, it can lead to blown-out highlights or an underexposed subject. However, if balanced well, it creates a beautiful sunburst effect that adds depth and emotion to the image.
One of the difficulties was the constant motion of the octopus. It wasn’t staying still for long, which meant I had to keep adjusting my camera settings and position on the fly. I wanted the rich blue of the ocean to frame the scene without overpowering it, and I needed just enough strobe light to illuminate the octopus without introducing backscatter or washing out its delicate features.
In general, I used settings in the range of f18 to f22 with shutter speeds between 1/200 and 1/320 seconds at ISO 200. These settings helped capture the sunball clearly without losing details in the reef or octopus. My strobes were placed in the 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock positions, angled slightly downward toward the reef. This position allowed me to reduce the chances of lighting particles in the water, which can create distracting spots known as backscatter in underwater photography.
One key factor was patience. I waited until the octopus moved into a position that would allow the sunlight to create a glowing aura around it. I knew I only had a few seconds when everything lined up perfectly—the pose of the octopus, the position of the sun, and my framing.
And then it happened. The octopus extended its arms outward, hunting once more, just as a sharp sunball appeared above its head. I hit the shutter.
The Magic Behind the Lens and the Emotional Impact
The photo I captured that day was more than just technically successful. It was emotionally resonant. It represented everything I loved about diving and photography. It was about curiosity, timing, and the raw beauty of marine life. I named the image "Octopus with Sunball," and to my delight and surprise, it was awarded Best in Show at the 2018 SoCal Shootout.
But beyond the recognition, what mattered most was the connection I felt with that moment. The octopus had allowed me into its world, and I had been lucky enough to witness something pure and wild. It reminded me why I started photographing underwater in the first place—not just to capture beautiful images, but to tell stories of nature that many people never get to see.
This photo also became a conversation starter. People who saw it wanted to know how it was taken, what the experience was like, and what it felt like to be there. It served as a bridge between those who dive and those who don’t, inviting more people to care about the ocean and its fragile ecosystems.
Underwater photography is often about patience and being present, more than anything else. You can’t control nature. But you can prepare, practice, and be ready for those brief, magical moments when everything comes together. That day with the octopus was one such moment, and I’m forever grateful that I was there with a camera in hand.
Exploring the Behavior of the California Two-Spot Octopus
One of the most remarkable aspects of photographing the octopus during the SoCal Shootout 2018 was not just its appearance, but its behavior. The California two-spot octopus (Octopus bimaculoides) is known for being intelligent, curious, and active—particularly when hunting. Watching this creature for nearly half an hour gave me a unique insight into its instinctual process of searching for food.
When the octopus first began moving, it did so with caution, making slow, deliberate steps. But as it became more focused on hunting and less concerned with my presence, its movements became more fluid and purposeful. It stretched its arms across the reef, reaching into small crevices with incredible precision. Every few steps, it would suddenly puff up—its body expanding in a dramatic inflation—and then change color to a striking pale white. This color change wasn’t just a visual spectacle; it had purpose. It’s believed that this color shift is a strategy to startle or disorient prey, or to blend into sandy, pale reef structures.
The inflation was equally fascinating. When the octopus filled itself with water, it created a kind of umbrella or parachute effect over the reef. This allowed it to trap prey such as crabs or small fish that might have been hiding in the crevices. The behavior was deliberate, repeated, and effective. Watching it perform this strategy again and again made me appreciate just how intelligent and specialized these animals are. It also deepened my respect for marine life and reinforced my desire to capture these behaviors in photographs, not just static images of animals sitting still.
What also stood out during this dive was how fearless the octopus became. After just a few minutes, it showed no sign of concern toward me or my camera setup. That kind of confidence in a wild animal is rare and precious. It created a perfect opportunity to not just shoot, but observe, and in those quiet moments underwater, it felt as though I was the guest in its world—allowed to watch without interference.
Crafting the Composition: Balancing Foreground and Background
When it comes to wide-angle underwater photography, composition plays a crucial role. Unlike macro photography, where the subject fills the frame and background distractions are minimal, wide-angle shots must take into account the surrounding environment. Elements like the position of the sun, the reef structure, the depth of field, and the water clarity all play vital roles in how the final image is perceived.
With the octopus hunting across the reef and the sun directly above, I had a rare opportunity to attempt a backlit composition. My goal was to incorporate the sunball—a visible burst of light rays radiating from the sun—into the frame behind the octopus. This would not only create a dramatic visual effect but also add depth and context to the image.
However, this type of composition is extremely difficult to pull off successfully underwater. The biggest challenge is managing the exposure so that both the foreground subject (the octopus) and the background element (the sunball) are properly lit. If the camera is exposed to the sun, the octopus may be too dark. If exposed to the octopus, the sun will often appear as a blown-out white circle. The solution is a delicate balance between ambient light and strobe lighting.
I experimented with a variety of settings throughout the encounter. My aperture stayed between f18 and f22, which allowed me to maintain a large depth of field while minimizing the overexposure of the sun. My shutter speed was typically set between 1/200 and 1/320 of a second to help reduce ambient light and capture sharp sun rays. The ISO was kept low—around ISO 200—to avoid unnecessary grain in the image.
Strobe placement was just as important as camera settings. I positioned the Sea & Sea YS-D1 strobes at the 10 o’clock and 2 o’clock positions, aiming slightly downward toward the reef. This ensured that the light hit the octopus without scattering into the water column, which would cause backscatter. Backscatter is one of the most frustrating challenges in underwater photography because even a small amount of particulate matter in the water can ruin an otherwise perfect shot.
What made this moment even more technically demanding was that I had to keep moving as the octopus did. Each time it repositioned itself on the reef, I had to adjust my distance, angle, and lighting to compensate. Underwater photography is often compared to dance, and in this case, it felt exactly like that—a dance between me, the camera, the animal, and the environment. I was constantly tweaking, floating, angling, and timing each shot as the light shifted and the subject moved.
Learning from the Challenges: Failures Before Success
The final image that won Best in Show didn’t happen on the first shot, or even in the first twenty. There were dozens of photos taken during that 30-minute dive, and many of them were flawed. Some were slightly out of focus due to the constant motion. Others had the sunball placed too far off-center. A few had backscatter that I couldn’t entirely remove. And several more had poor lighting because one strobe fired more strongly than the other, or I didn’t get the distance quite right.
One of the most important lessons I’ve learned as a photographer—above and below the surface—is that failure is part of the process. Every “bad” shot teaches you something. Whether it’s about camera settings, strobe angles, or simply being in the right place at the right time, each frame you discard is a stepping stone toward the image that finally works.
Reviewing images during the dive was difficult due to limited visibility on the LCD screen underwater. I had to trust my instincts and hope that at least one of the shots would capture everything just the way I envisioned. Once I surfaced and reviewed the images in full resolution, I could finally see the differences. That was when the winning shot stood out: the octopus perfectly lit, the sunball sharp and radiant, the reef in focus, and the entire frame balanced in a way that felt intentional and compelling.
One common misconception about photography contests is that the best equipment guarantees the best shot. While gear can help, it’s far more about experience, timing, and patience. That day, I had to use everything I had learned over years of diving and shooting—from understanding animal behavior to adjusting for light conditions, framing compositions, and troubleshooting equipment.
There were moments on that dive when I wasn’t sure I was getting anything usable at all. The octopus was moving fast. The sun was shifting. The reef was angled awkwardly. But I stayed focused and kept adjusting. In the end, I believe it was persistence more than luck that made the shot possible.
The Aftermath and the Meaning of Recognition
When I submitted the photo to the SoCal Shootout, I wasn’t expecting it to win. I believed it was a good shot and was proud of the moment it captured, but there were always so many talented photographers entering the competition. SoCal Shootout is known for bringing together some of the best underwater shooters in the region, and the images submitted each year are of incredibly high quality.
A few weeks later, I received the news that “Octopus with Sunball” had been awarded Best in Show. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and pride. It wasn’t just about the prize or the title. It was a moment of validation for years of learning, struggling, and persevering through all the challenges that come with underwater photography.
Winning the award also opened up opportunities to talk about ocean conservation, marine biology, and the importance of protecting coastal habitats like those around Catalina. As photographers, we have the power to show people the beauty and fragility of the natural world. Every image can be a form of advocacy. This image, in particular, highlighted a species that many local divers see but rarely appreciate in full behavioral context. It became more than just a picture—it became a story and a call to appreciate what lives just beneath the waves.
From a personal standpoint, the recognition renewed my motivation. It reminded me that there is always more to learn, more to discover, and more to share. I began taking my craft even more seriously. I continued to study marine life behavior, improve my lighting techniques, and mentor newer divers who were interested in underwater photography.
I also started giving presentations and workshops, sharing the story behind this image and the many lessons I learned while capturing it. These sessions helped me realize how much knowledge I had gathered over the years, often through trial and error, and how important it is to pass that knowledge forward. Many photographers helped me when I was starting, and now I am in a position to do the same for others.
Post-Processing and Bringing the Vision to Life
After surfacing and reviewing the dive photos on my laptop, it was clear that one particular image stood out—the frame where the octopus was mid-hunt, beautifully lit, and framed by a radiant sunball. But the raw file, like most underwater images, still needed post-processing to achieve its full potential. Unlike topside photography, underwater shots require more attention due to the challenges of light loss, color distortion, and contrast reduction at depth.
The first step was sorting through all the files from the dive. I shot in RAW format, which retains far more information than JPEG and allows more flexibility during editing. I discarded blurry shots, poorly composed frames, or those with distracting backscatter. From the remaining set, I selected the image that best captured the moment—sharp, well-lit, and emotionally resonant.
Using Lightroom and Photoshop, I began by adjusting basic exposure, white balance, and contrast. Even with well-placed strobes, underwater photos often have a blue or green cast due to light absorption. I fine-tuned the white balance to bring out the natural color of the octopus and the reef. Slight warming of the image helped reveal the yellows, reds, and oranges that our eyes naturally see during a dive, but are lost in the raw image.
Next, I refined the clarity and sharpness of the image. Shooting at smaller apertures like f/22 ensures greater depth of field but can sometimes reduce overall image sharpness. Using subtle sharpening tools, I brought out the texture of the octopus’s skin, the fine details in the reef, and the crisp edges of the sunball’s rays. I avoided over-processing; my goal was to enhance what was already there, not to fabricate something artificial.
Backscatter was minimal due to good strobe positioning during the dive, but I still used Photoshop’s healing brush and clone stamp tools to clean up any remaining spots. This is a time-consuming process, but it's worth the effort when preparing an image for publication or competition.
One of the final adjustments was selective dodging and burning. By slightly brightening the octopus and darkening the surrounding reef, I subtly directed the viewer’s attention to the subject without altering the scene unnaturally. This technique mimics the way our eyes naturally focus on areas of light and contrast, enhancing the emotional draw of the image.
Once satisfied, I exported several versions of the file—one for print, one for web, and one for competition submission. The final result maintained the rawness of the original moment while improving visual clarity and emotional impact. Post-processing didn’t change the story. It amplified it.
The Power of Underwater Imagery in Ocean Conservation
Beyond artistic expression, underwater photography carries a deeper responsibility. The ocean is in crisis—from climate change and overfishing to habitat destruction and pollution. As photographers, we can document marine life in a way that inspires wonder, awareness, and action. The octopus photo was more than a personal achievement; it became a tool for outreach.
In presentations, social media posts, and local exhibitions, people often asked me questions like: “Is that real?” or “Where did you find it?” These questions revealed how disconnected many are from the ocean, even if they live near it. The photo became a window into a world that few people ever see with their own eyes. It helped start conversations not just about photography, but about the fragility of marine ecosystems.
Through that image and others I’ve taken since, I began collaborating with marine conservation organizations and educational programs. I spoke at dive clubs, high schools, and photography workshops, sharing both the technical side of capturing marine life and the ecological importance of the subjects. The octopus, often overlooked, became a symbol of intelligence, adaptability, and the need for habitat preservation.
Photos like this are powerful because they create empathy. When people see the eyes of an octopus, the behavior it exhibits, and the environment it lives in, they begin to see marine life as more than just abstract creatures. They see personalities, instincts, and purpose. That shift in perception is critical if we want to protect our oceans.
I also became more mindful of my practices. I started planning dives around minimal impact, avoiding touching reefs or disturbing animals. I educated myself further on responsible wildlife interaction and began sharing that knowledge with others. Photography, in this context, became both a privilege and a platform for stewardship.
Building Relationships Through Photography
The "Octopus with Sunball" image not only brought recognition but helped build lasting relationships in the dive and photography community. At the SoCal Shootout awards event, I met other photographers who had spent years developing their craft. We shared stories about difficult dives, once-in-a-lifetime encounters, and the technical puzzles we faced in different underwater conditions.
What struck me most was how collaborative the underwater photography community can be. Unlike competitive arenas where secrets are guarded, most underwater shooters are eager to share tips, locations, and techniques. We all face the same challenges: limited light, fast-moving subjects, currents, and limited dive time. The joy comes in overcoming those challenges together.
After the shootout, I was invited to contribute to local underwater photography exhibits and joined conservation-focused events where photography played a key role. These opportunities allowed me to use my work not just for artistic expression, but as a visual voice for marine education and sustainability.
Mentorship also became an important aspect of this journey. I found myself helping newer divers get comfortable with camera gear underwater, guiding them through techniques that took me years to learn. From strobe positioning to buoyancy control, sharing my knowledge felt like paying forward the guidance I had received from mentors when I started.
The relationships built through photography extended beyond just divers and photographers. Scientists, marine biologists, and educators began reaching out, interested in using some of my images in their work. The photo of the octopus, for example, was used in a marine biology presentation to discuss cephalopod hunting behavior and camouflage.
This interconnection of art, science, and storytelling gave my work a new dimension. It became clear that underwater photography wasn’t just about beauty—it was about communication. Through one image, you could express a narrative of biology, emotion, and environment. It was a form of language everyone could understand, regardless of background or education.
Evolving Goals and Continuing the Journey
The octopus photo marked a turning point in my journey as a diver and photographer. It changed how I approached every dive afterward. Instead of just seeking technically great shots, I began looking for stories—behavioral moments, interactions between species, or subtle expressions of marine life that conveyed a message or a feeling.
This shift led me to explore different kinds of marine environments. I dived deeper into kelp forests, explored wreck sites, and spent time in tide pools, paying closer attention to the small details I might have overlooked before. I started bringing back not just photographs, but observations—about changes in species behavior, shifts in water temperature, or differences in coral health.
In my post-dive logs, I noted environmental conditions more carefully: algae blooms, water clarity, and the presence or absence of certain fish species. Photography made me more observant, more curious, and ultimately more connected to the underwater world. I wasn’t just capturing images; I was participating in the life cycles of the reef.
The gear I used also evolved. I experimented with new lenses, dome ports, and lighting modifiers. But I remained cautious not to let the pursuit of equipment overshadow the purpose behind the work. The best gear in the world means little without intention behind the shot.
Over time, I built a portfolio not just of striking images, but of meaningful ones. I included scenes of predation, courtship, camouflage, and symbiosis—moments that reflected the complexity and wonder of ocean life. Some of these images were displayed in galleries. Others were published in articles about marine research. A few simply lived on my walls at home as reminders of the adventures that shaped me.
Each dive brought new challenges, and each photo added to the evolving narrative of my growth as a photographer. But through it all, I never forgot that single octopus and that one extraordinary moment. It had set a standard—not in terms of technical perfection, but in terms of emotional impact and storytelling power.
The Role of Patience and Timing in Underwater Success
One of the most profound lessons reinforced during the “Octopus with Sunball” experience is the importance of patience. Underwater photography does not reward haste. There’s no guarantee you’ll see something amazing, let alone have a camera in position with the right settings to capture it. You have to wait, observe, and allow the environment to reveal its rhythm to you.
That day at Catalina, I had no specific goal beyond exploring. I didn’t descend with the intent of photographing an octopus, let alone capturing an award-winning image. The success of that dive was due entirely to staying in the moment. Instead of chasing scenes or rushing from one subject to another, I allowed myself to slow down. I watched. I waited. And when the opportunity came, I was ready.
This approach has since changed how I dive. I no longer try to collect dozens of shots during a single dive. Now, I often spend an entire dive observing one subject or focusing on a small section of reef. I’ve learned that the most meaningful moments are often subtle. A color shift. A feeding ritual. A territorial dance. These behaviors reveal stories that a quick snapshot never could.
Patience underwater also involves trusting your skills. Once you’ve dialed in your exposure settings and understand your lighting, you can let the scene dictate the moment rather than constantly tinkering with the camera. It becomes less about chasing the perfect shot and more about capturing authenticity. And when something unexpected happens—like an octopus rising into a sunbeam—you’re prepared to make the most of it.
In this way, patience and timing go hand-in-hand. The timing of the shot wasn’t just about shutter speed. It was about months of practice, dozens of previous dives, failed photos, learned techniques, and quiet hours observing. Every dive that didn’t yield a great shot helped me prepare for the one that did.
Finding Deeper Purpose Through Storytelling
The image of the octopus with the sunball may have started as a technical triumph, but it evolved into something far more significant. It became a story worth telling—one about respect for marine life, the power of visual narrative, and the role of photographers in shaping how people see the ocean.
Through workshops, presentations, and conversations sparked by this photo, I’ve seen how storytelling can connect people to unfamiliar worlds. When I describe the octopus inflating like a balloon or changing color while hunting, people often express disbelief or amazement. That curiosity opens the door to deeper discussions about marine biodiversity, ecosystem health, and the impact of human activity on the ocean.
Storytelling also allows space for vulnerability. I’ve shared not only the successes behind the image but the many failures that led up to it. That honesty helps aspiring photographers understand that growth in this field is rarely linear. It’s messy, frustrating, and full of surprises. But it’s also deeply rewarding when approached with humility and openness.
In telling the story of the shot, I’ve come to better understand my motivations. It’s not about collecting trophies or building a name. It’s about sharing the wonder I experience underwater in a way that resonates with others. I want people to care—not just about the photo, but about the subject, the setting, and the fragile world it comes from.
This sense of purpose drives me now. It influences the images I pursue, the edits I choose, and the platforms I use to share my work. Every image becomes an opportunity to educate, inspire, and advocate.
Shaping Future Goals with Intent
The success of “Octopus with Sunball” was a pivotal moment, but it also set a new benchmark for what I want my photography to represent. I no longer view each shot in isolation. Instead, I think about how individual images contribute to a broader body of work—one that documents the richness of ocean life while reflecting a personal journey.
Looking forward, I want to expand the kinds of stories I tell through photography. This includes exploring new ecosystems beyond California’s kelp forests, documenting lesser-known marine species, and working alongside scientists to help visualize data and research findings in a more accessible way.
I’m also more focused than ever on ethical photography. This means limiting stress on animals, avoiding fragile habitats, and putting the welfare of the subject above getting the shot. Education is a key part of this effort, especially when teaching newer divers and photographers. By modeling respectful behavior underwater, I hope to foster a culture where artistry and ethics go hand-in-hand.
Another long-term goal is to collaborate more with conservation organizations and science communicators. Images like the octopus shot have real value when used in outreach programs, marine education, and citizen science. Visuals have the power to simplify complex ideas and engage diverse audiences—from school children to policymakers.
Finally, I aim to keep growing creatively. This means experimenting with new techniques, refining my use of natural light, and even exploring video storytelling. The ocean is constantly changing, and so should the ways we document it. By continuing to learn and adapt, I hope to stay connected not just to my craft, but to the deeper emotional and environmental truths it reflects.
Conclusion:
The photo titled “Octopus with Sunball” began as a lucky encounter on a reef. But as the years have passed, it has become much more. It represents everything I value about underwater photography: curiosity, patience, skill, timing, and above all, respect for the natural world.
That single moment—an octopus hunting beneath a glowing sun—captured a sense of magic that’s difficult to put into words. And yet, through the camera lens, through thoughtful editing, and through sharing the story behind it, I was able to convey a small piece of that magic to others. That, to me, is the essence of photography.
The image reminds me why I started this journey in the first place. Not for awards or attention, but for connection—to nature, to people, and to purpose. Every time I look at that photo, I remember the quiet awe I felt underwater, and I am motivated to keep exploring, keep learning, and keep sharing.
In the end, great images don’t just happen. They’re built on years of dedication, moments of clarity, and a willingness to look beyond the obvious. They invite us to see the world differently—and sometimes, to care a little more about the parts of it we rarely notice.
That’s what I hope “Octopus with Sunball” continues to do. Not just for me, but for everyone who sees it.