Why I Still Shoot the Ugly Stuff
nick beckner 2023.
Perfection is a liar. It tricks you into thinking everything’s clean, simple, easy. But life? Life’s none of those things. Life is rust. It’s cracked sidewalks. It’s chipped teeth and tired eyes and half-fixed fenders held together by zip ties and stubbornness. And that’s why I shoot the ugly stuff.I don’t mean ugly like bad lighting or lazy work. I mean ugly like real. Ugly like scars that healed but left a mark. Ugly like an old gas station that’s been open since ’59 with a flickering neon sign and one working pump. That kind of ugly. That kind of beautiful.
nick beckner 2023.
Because in the ugly, there’s history. Texture. Evidence. There’s proof that something or someone survived. A lot of photography today is obsessed with control. Controlled light. Controlled smiles. Controlled moments. But I’m chasing what leaks through the cracks when things get a little wild and a little honest.
Why “Ugly” Matters
Let me be blunt: anyone can shoot pretty. Pretty is easy. Pretty doesn’t challenge the viewer. It doesn’t stay with you. The moment you scroll past it, it’s gone. What I want is for someone to stop. To look again. To feel something that isn’t just admiration, but curiosity, discomfort, even nostalgia.
I’ve had clients come to me expecting glossy, polished images—and they walk away with something raw, imperfect, and real. Not by accident, but by design. That wrinkle in their suit? It tells a story. That stain on the shop apron? It says they’ve been working. These aren’t distractions—they’re features.
nick beckner 2023.
Influence and Instinct
My background in design sharpened my eye for structure, for how elements relate. But it’s my obsession with real-world grit that fills the frame with meaning. I look for balance in chaos. Symmetry in broken lines. Harmony in decay. That instinct drives every shutter press.
Some of my earliest photo work came from wandering alleys, parking garages, junkyards. I’d shoot the way broken concrete met rusted pipes. I’d wait until the light hit a crack in the wall just right. No models. No staging. Just decay, light, texture.
And the funny thing? That’s the work people kept coming back to. It wasn’t commercial. It wasn’t selling anything. But it was true. And in a world that’s algorithmically sanitized, true hits hard.
nick beckner 2022.
A Shot is a Document
When I pick up my camera—whether it’s my Ricoh GR III, Nikon D600, or even a beat-up smartphone—I’m not trying to impress. I’m trying to document. That rusted trailer parked behind the mechanic shop? It’s not just a cool shot. It’s a record. Of time, of use, of a life lived.
Photographs have always been used to archive. Somewhere along the way, especially in digital and social media spaces, that got warped into performance. But I’m not performing. I’m archiving feeling. Weight. Decay. Survival.
nick beckner 2023.
The Client Side of Ugly
Here’s the twist: clients want this. Maybe not the word “ugly,” but they want something true. When I shoot events, portraits, or branded work, I find the real stuff beneath the surface. A messy workbench tells more of a brand’s story than a fake showroom setup. A candid moment between bride and groom in imperfect light hits harder than a posed shot in golden hour.
This approach doesn’t mean chaos. It means purposefully looking past the expected. And building something stronger in its place.
nick beckner 2021.
For the Ones Who Get It
If you’re reading this and nodding, you probably get it. You’re probably someone who’s been through some things. Someone who doesn’t want everything polished and faceless. You want the cracks, the grain, the smoke.
You want something that lasts.
And that’s what I shoot. Ugly, if you want to call it that. But to me? It’s just real.
Want your brand, your life, or your story captured this way? Let’s make something raw. Something that shows who you really are.
