Conrad Hall once said, “The most important light on the set is the one you turn off.” That idea has guided my approach to lighting more than any technical rule. Early in my career, I overlit everything—too many fixtures, too much control, and not enough observation. Like many young cinematographers, I was chasing technique instead of truth. Lighting began to make sense only when I learned to trust what real light looks like and why it works.
Every lighting plan begins with the script. It’s the blueprint for the visual world. As I read, I mark every reference to light—fire, fog, storms, sunsets, candles—because each one carries creative and logistical consequences. Those notes inform conversations with the director, production designer, and gaffer. Creating a “look” isn’t a single decision; it’s the result of research, scouting, testing, and collaboration. Cinematography is never done in isolation.
It’s important to distinguish between look and tone. Look refers to the visual design of the film: lighting style, contrast, color palette, lenses, composition, and camera movement. Tone is emotional—it’s how the film feels. Story, performance, sound, and pacing all shape tone. The two must work together. A horror film might pair a dark, desaturated look with an ominous tone, while a romantic comedy may rely on warm light and vibrant color to support optimism and energy. Consistency is everything.
Lighting choices always begin with identifying sources. Outside, the sun is the key. Inside, it could be a window, a lamp, a TV screen, or a candle. Traditional three-point lighting—key, fill, and backlight—is a useful foundation, especially for interviews and portraits, but it’s only a starting point. Many of my favorite setups use a single motivated source, supported by ambient light rather than obvious fill. If it looks good with one light, stop there.
Ambient light is one of the most valuable—and fragile—elements on a set. It’s influenced by wall color, time of day, weather, and season. I think of it as visible air. Preserving ambience often means resisting the urge to add more fixtures. Sometimes the best solution is to raise the background slightly with a ceiling bounce or corner light, carefully matched in color temperature. When shooting with natural ambience only, capture wide shots first before the light changes.
Day exteriors demand planning and humility. The sun moves. Weather shifts. Light studies—photographing a location hourly—reveal when and how a space looks its best. Shooting in backlight often provides the most control, and creating shade with diffusion is essential for consistency. Grips are unsung heroes in this effort.
Night lighting has changed dramatically. Fast lenses and sensitive sensors allow cinematographers to build scenes from existing light—streetlamps, windows, practicals—rather than massive rigs. Still, the fundamentals remain. Start with a base layer of ambience, often three stops under key, and respect the inverse square law when lighting large spaces.
Lighting is not about equipment. It’s about restraint, observation, and intention. When light supports the story without calling attention to itself, you’ve done your job.