top of page

Media Related Tips, Tricks, and Experiences for Upstate New York 

Why I Hated Photographing Luke Combs…

Luke Combs throws a beer can into a crowd
(c) Ben Gifford Media

Yes. The cats out of the bag, but let me be clear right away — I didn’t actually hate photographing Luke Combs. Photographing country music star Luke Combs five times across three different states made me hate the fact I didn't pick up concert photography sooner in my career. The experiences challenged me in ways I didn’t expect, forced me out of my comfort zone, and completely reshaped how I look at photography. In the moment, sure, it was overwhelming. Looking back, it’s one of the most important experiences I’ve had behind a camera that had reshaped my career as a small-town photographer who experienced a big city stage.


I Hated Photographing Luke Combs because...

1. It Unlocked a Passion I Didn’t Know I Had

Up until that point, photography had been something I enjoyed and worked hard at — but this was different. The pace. The pressure. The energy of a live show at that scale. Suddenly, photography wasn’t just about getting a “good shot.” It became about anticipation, timing, and storytelling in fractions of a second. I realized I loved working in environments where you don’t get second chances — where instinct matters as much as settings, and where patience from hunting and fishing all my life came into play. That realization alone made the entire experience worth it.


2. It Made Me Want to Buy New Camera Gear (Immediately)

Anyone who’s photographed a major concert knows this feeling.

Low light. Fast movement. Harsh spotlights. Dark shadows. You quickly become very aware of what your gear can — and can’t — handle. I found myself thinking less about just the brand names and more about capabilities: autofocus performance, low-light reliability, dynamic range, lens speed.

It wasn’t about chasing gear for the sake of it — it was about understanding the tools needed to execute under pressure. It influenced what I use for every event to this day.


a young fan holds up a sign at a Luke Combs concert
(c) Ben Gifford Media

3. I Met Some Incredible People

One of the most underrated parts of big shoots is the people. Sure, it's one thing to like the music, but you gain so much more respect for a band based on the hospitality or willingness of relationships they provide on and off the stage.

I've met:

  • Fellow photographers grinding for the same shots

  • Crew members who make massive productions run smoothly

  • People who had been doing this at a high level for years

There’s a shared respect in those environments. Everyone knows the stakes, the rules, and the unspoken etiquette. Watching how experienced shooters move, communicate, and adapt taught me as much as the shoot itself and I still connect with most of them on occasions.


4. I Learned From the Best (Without a Classroom)

No YouTube tutorial prepares you for this. Being on stage next to the best in a sold out arena can't be experienced watching a video on the internet.

Watching seasoned photographers work in real time — how they:

  • Position themselves

  • Read lighting cues

  • Predict moments before they happen

  • Stay calm when things don’t go as planned

You don’t learn it by memorizing camera settings. You learn it by being there, making mistakes, and paying attention.


Luke Combs pours a drink into a cup of a fan
(c) Ben Gifford Media

5. I Finally Understood the Little Moments

This was the biggest shift for me.

At first, you chase the obvious shots:

  • The big chorus

  • The lights

  • The crowd reactions

But the images that last?They’re the small moments:

  • A glance offstage

  • A quiet breath between songs

  • A split-second expression no one else noticed

That experience taught me that the best photos aren’t always loud — they’re honest. And once you see that, it changes how you photograph everything.


Luke combs holds the hands of fans while singing
(c) Ben Gifford Media

So… Why Did I “Hate” It?

Because it pushed me to learn something new that I now crave.

It exposed gaps in my skills. It made me anxious. It forced growth instead of comfort.

And that’s usually how you know something mattered, especially for a small-town photographer like me...

Comments


bottom of page