Architectural photography remains an intensely personal enterprise, and today’s top photographers each have their own approach. RECORD spoke to a number of photographers—as well as architects—to learn how they like to work. Despite their varied moods and methods, they are all devoted to the enormous challenge of capturing not only the details of architecture but expressing the experience of space and scale.

 

Click the thumbnails below to read more about each person’s process.

<br><h9>National Museum of African American History and Culture by Adjaye Associates <br>Washington, D.C., photo by Nic Lehoux, 2017</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>NIC LEHOUX</strong><br> Photographer based in Seattle<p> </p>Images are meant to open up a conversation. For the first 15 years, I shot on 4x5 film, with complex lighting—hot lights and strobes; technically, they were very involved shoots. I still have that in my DNA and apply some of those techniques in my current work. But I’ve always had a strong sensitivity to street photography; some of my heroes are documentary and war photographers, people who are looking to capture the soul of the culture we live in. It was harder to bring these instincts into 4x5 film work. However, the use of medium-format digital—I use Arca-Swiss and Fuji GFX cameras with an assortment of esoteric German lenses and filters adapted from the cinema industry—has given me the freedom to be more exploratory and experimental in how I approach architecture with people. At the same time, there’s a new openness on the part of my clients, who more and more are willing to have me tell almost a social story through their buildings.<p> </p>My compositions are extremely rigorous: no excessively wide angles, always very concise one-point perspectives, very sectional and elevational in composition, and then I break this rigor visually by mixing in the theater of people in the public space. It’s about setting the proper composition and then waiting for the natural ballet of people to enter the space at the decisive moment. Sometimes the shot is done in 30 seconds, and sometimes it takes 45 minutes. I want to capture people enthralled by the space, as well as the subtleties of the space itself. Why are people captivated? What is magical about this space? The result is a studied composition with an incredible natural looseness of people in the space. We’re lucky to be in an era where architecture is particularly interesting, aren’t we?</h6>
NIC LEHOUX
Photographer
<br><h9>Poetry Foundation by John Ronan Architects <br>Chicago, photo by James Florio, 2017</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>JOHN RONAN</strong><br> John Ronan Architects, Chicago<p> </p> When I’m choosing a photographer, I look for someone who “gets” the firm’s work and values. And I look for someone who’s easy to work with, since I am typically on-site with the photographer for the entire shoot, which can go on for several days. We tend to shoot a building periodically while it’s under construction, for project documentation and marketing purposes. Usually, we wait to shoot the finished building until after it is open and people are using it. Since a theme of our work is the integration of the building and site, I like to shoot at different times of the year, to show how the character and atmosphere of the spaces change from season to season. And after the building has been open for about a year, I will send in a “people” photographer to get candid shots of how people actually use the building; these photos tend to be more relaxed and genuine than the more formal building photos that typically show up in the design press. Another major theme that runs through my work is spatial layering, which is sometimes difficult to capture in a photograph (easier in a video). For photographs, I try to get figures in the foreground, mid-ground, and background to help communicate the layering; sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.</h6>
JOHN RONAN
Architect
<br><h9>LeFrak Center at Lakeside by Tod Williams Billie Tsien Architects <br>Brooklyn, photo by Michael Moran, 2013</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>BILLIE TSIEN</strong><br> Tod Williams Billie Tsien Architects, New York<p> </p>We have worked primarily with photographer Michael Moran. We admire his work and his eye and value his friendship. He knows the kinds of images we most appreciate: they are often frontal and stable rather than diagonal and dramatic.<p> </p> They do not attempt to replace experiencing the work firsthand. We also love the images that we find on Instagram or Flickr—just people enjoying themselves in spaces we have made. We are looking for the play of light, the change of seasons, and the sense of inhabitation. At most, we hope that a hint of what it might feel like to be there is transmitted. Our best work is the least photogenic.</h6>
BILLIE TSIEN
Architect
<br><h9>National Stadium by Herzog & de Meuron<br>Beijing, photo by Iwan Baan, 2007</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>IWAN BAAN</strong><br> Photographer based in Amsterdam<p> </p>I don’t like to be thought of as an architectural photographer. My background is in using photography to tell stories about people and places. Since I met Rem Koolhaas 13 years ago, I’ve been surrounded by architects and architecture, but my way of doing photography hasn’t really changed. Buildings and cities are the backdrops now, but I’m still focused on how people live.<p> </p> Even with a building I don’t like, I can still tell an interesting story. For example, I don’t find the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world, particularly interesting, but the context—a row of buildings rising out of the desert, with one trying to be taller than the others— is compelling. I recently shot two projects by Herzog & de Meuron. One is a cultural center in Hong Kong, in an incredibly dense setting. The other is a large new development near Moscow, in a vast, open landscape. The contexts couldn’t be more different.<p> </p> I divide my time between commissioned work and longer-term projects. Tatiana Bilbao and I have just completed a collaboration with 11 universities in the U.S. and Mexico in which we looked at various issues involving the border. It will be a book from Lars Müller and an exhibition at Yale—both called <em>Two Sides of the Border</em>.<p> </p> I use Canon 35-millimeter handheld cameras with a range of lenses. I don’t use tilt-shift lenses very much, because they’re about taking a building out of context and framing it perfectly, which is exactly what I don’t want to do. I use my iPhone a lot—I have more than 130,000 followers on Instagram—and I can’t wait for the day when the phone is all I need to carry.</h6>
IWAN BAAN
Photographer
<br><h9>Heydar Aliyev Centre by Zaha Hadid Architects <br>Baku, Azerbaijian, photo © Hélène Binet, courtesy Ammann Gallery, 2013</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>HÉLÈNE BINET</strong><br> Photographer based in London<p> </p>I have been working for 30 years to capture architectural space in photographs. I spend about half my time in the commercial world and half my time doing personal work. Recently I’ve been photographing traditional Korean architecture, which is astonishing. The photos may become a book.<p> </p> There are a few architects I’ve been working with for many years, including Peter Zumthor and Caruso St John. I like to have long relationships—I feel I grow with the architects; it’s not just shooting and going home. Zaha Hadid was very important to my career. I shot all of her buildings starting with Vitra. There was something primordial about her work, something very deep, which I hope I brought out in my photos. She’s often been misunderstood. Some people see her work as fashionable; I was never interested in that.<p> </p> I shoot mostly in black-and-white. The way we experience space is a complex thing, and color can compete with that experience. I go in the other direction. I prefer silence. I shoot on film; I don’t touch digital. I use a 4x5 camera called an Arca-Swiss—you put a film plate in and put a blanket over your head. It’s expensive, and it’s slow. Each image is a commitment. It’s like a performance: you have to be very good in the moment; you don’t get a chance to fix it later. I might make 20 images in a day, eight or nine that I’m happy with. I do all the printing myself, choosing everything: the paper, the contrast. The actual print is very important to me. A reproduction of the work is not the work.
HÉLÈNE BINET
Photographer
<br><h9>Tempelhof Airport by Ernst Sagebiel<br>Berlin, photo by Danica Kus, 2018</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>DANICA KUS</strong><br> Photographer based in Ljubljana and Antwerp<p> </p>I use a digital DSLR camera, a Canon EOS- 1D X; I can’t think of the last time I used artificial lighting. I generally use a Canon 24–70 millimeter lens as well as Canon tilt-shift lenses. I prefer to shoot in blackand- white—you can express more of your feelings—but for assignments, I have to shoot in color. I started my career working in a darkroom, and the black you get there is very different from the black you get digitally. But, either way, I try to capture that atmosphere of the space and the character of the building—it’s my task to show how you feel in the building. I pay attention to the play of light, the sound, smell, temperature, structures, rhythm, materials, etc. Sometimes I try to create an imaginary and ambiguous space with my camera.<p> </p> Recently I photographed a school in Brussels. It was quite difficult, because the architects wanted to show the space being used, but the school wouldn’t let me show the students’ faces. And I couldn’t stay more than about 20 minutes, because I was interrupting classes. Once an architect asked me to shoot a new office building during the guided tour, which lasted less than an hour—it was the only way to get access to some of the spaces. It was difficult because there was not enough time and there were too many people, but, despite the stress and speed, in the end, I was satisfied. In fact, it was such a great experience that, last summer, I shot Berlin’s Tempelhof Airport during the guided tour.<p> </p> Sometimes, when I see the work of a great architect, I’m overwhelmed. But if the building isn’t beautiful, I look for something else—how the light touches the walls and floors. I always find something.</h6>
DANICA KUS
Photographer
<br><h9>42 Crosby Street by Selldorf Architects<br>New York, photo by Nicholas Venezia, 2017</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>ANNABELLE SELLDORF</strong><br> Selldorf Architects, New York<p> </p>We are very lucky to have a gifted photographer, Nicholas Venezia, working for us, shooting for internal use as well as for publication. He is so familiar with our projects and our process that his photography is practically an extension of our vision for the work. For our most recent book, the majority of the photographs were taken by Todd Eberle. Todd is not only a good friend but also an artist—he has a very different and truly proprietary way of photographing architecture, which I appreciate a lot. He has known our work for a very long time and picks up on certain similarities and strategies among different spaces and typologies that sometimes I am not aware of until he points them out. I love having photos taken as a project evolves and emerges during construction. Photos of empty buildings and photos of buildings with people in them serve different purposes. In the end, architecture is for people, and so I love seeing people use our buildings.</h6>
ANNABELLE SELLDORF
Architect
<br><h9>American Copper by SHoP<br> New York, photo © Jeff Goldberg/ESTO </h9><p> </p><h6><strong>JEFF GOLDBERG</strong><br> Photographer based in New York<p> </p>For the first 25 years of my career, I used a 4x5 camera and transparency film. The medium was very unforgiving. At the time of making the exposure, everything had to be perfect. To deal with subjects of high contrast, I used electronic flash or hot lights to balance tonalities. Now I use a small Canon DSLR camera, which lets me be more spontaneous. I only need a tripod for shots requiring long time exposures—otherwise, I prefer to hold the camera in my hand. And I don’t usually need an assistant (though I’m happy if someone from the architect’s office helps to organize things). And I rarely need lights—I can correct tonalities and color balance on the computer, using Adobe Camera Raw and Photoshop. I also use the computer to correct perspective and to remove small pieces of garbage that I used to pick up by hand. As for the architecture, my job is not to judge but to interpret and explain the architecture in photographs. I always find something to enjoy in every project I photograph. </h6>
JEFF GOLDBERG
Photographer
<br><h9>Alabama Silo<br>Greensboro, Alabama, photo by Timothy Hursley, 2008</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>TIMOTHY HURSLEY</strong><br> Photographer based in Little Rock, Arkansas<p> </p>I’ve shot intentional architecture all over the world, but I also like to shoot less-intentional architecture. These days, I’m doing one series on the funeral homes of the South, and another on decrepit industrial buildings. If I’m on the road for a job, I extend my time. Whenever I can, I drive somewhere from Little Rock. I prefer to be out on a cloudy day. It makes things more photographable; you’re not fighting the sun. In one town, I saw a dog food factory that was being taken down; it looked like something BIG would have designed. My photo ended up in the Oxford American magazine.<p> </p> I started out when I was 17, as an apprentice to [Detroit-based architecture, art, and landscape photographer] Balthazar Korab; I just sort of fell into it. I’ve been shooting the Rural Studio [Auburn University’s design-build program out of Alabama] since day one, and I shot things like the construction of Yoshio Taniguchi’s MoMA from 2004 to 2008; they flew me up to New York 14 times for that. I used a view camera all my life. Now I use a Phase One back (which enables cameras designed to use film to take digital photographs): you put it on a technical camera, with Rodenstock lenses. If I want to shoot people in dimmer conditions, I pull out a Sony DSLR.<p> </p> I recently found a funeral home with eight abandoned caskets; it was dark, so I used two iPhone flashlights, and I got a really cool shot. Not long ago, I bought a broken silo near the Rural Studio buildings in Alabama, and I put up a surveillance camera, which I set to shoot once every 12 seconds—I was getting thousands of images a day. It was great to find an interesting object and not have to be like Ansel Adams. Set it up and walk away.</h6>
TIMOTHY HURSLEY
Photographer
<br><h9>Prada Foundation by OMA<br> Milan, photo by Roland Halbe, 2015 </h9><p> </p><h6><strong>ROLAND HALBE</strong><br> Photographer based in Stuttgart<p> </p>I bring a mix of documentation with emotion to the assignment—I’m not as dry as some photographers, nor as glamorous as others. I have been photographing for Odile Decq for about eight years—we are a good team. I shot the Museum of Contemporary Art in Rome (2010) on spec, and she started using me. She knows I am reliable, dedicated, and I like being on a time schedule—it triggers my creativity. I’ve also been working with Jean Nouvel, who asked his client to hire me for the Louvre Abu Dhabi when it opened last year. For the last 15 years I’ve been shooting almost all Thom Mayne’s projects, and I have recently photographed Richard Meier’s newest work in Taipei, Bogotá, and Mexico City. I started getting a lot of work from Chilean architects through Alejandro Aravena in 2002. (It helps that I speak Spanish, along with English, Italian, French—and, of course, German.)<p> </p> Travel to photograph newly completed buildings is hard in terms of timing: press conferences require photos when the building isn’t complete. I believe in using natural light instead of killing the atmosphere with flash lights—but balancing light is hard. So the pressure mounts if the weather is lousy, since I just have to stay at the site, while my family is home in Stuttgart. My architect clients—who pay me—don’t often have me return when the building is totally finished and installed. I use a large-format camera (ALPA, a Swiss camera) with very good lenses and a digital back. Basically, it is a similar way of working to the predigital era when I was using a 4x5 camera, correcting the perspective on-site, and shooting with film. Now you correct the perspective post-production with Photoshop. The digital age has resulted in photographers’ being faster, less accurate, less profound. We all react to striking, eye-catching photos, and lines are blurred between professionals and amateurs.</h6>
ROLAND HALBE
Photographer
<br><h9>Meg Home by Olson Kundig,<br>Seattle, photo by Nic Lehoux, 2016</h9><p> </p><h6><strong>TOM KUNDIG</strong><br> Olson Kundig, Seattle<p> </p>The reason I like working with photographer Nic Lehoux is that he looks at a building the way an architect would—as line, plane, volume. His type of photography is crisp, clean, and edited—for architecture, it’s spot-on. We work with a couple of other photographers, too, because we’ve completed a lot of buildings recently. Different photographers have different ways of looking at a building, which is a good thing, but, for publication, you don’t necessarily want to mix them—if the shots are all by the same photographer, with the same instincts, the story holds together.</h6>
TOM KUNDIG
Architect