Rob Corpuz Images

16/01/2026

15/08/2025

Seemingly small choices can make a big difference in photography:

These three shots were taken with the same camera and lens, from essentially the same spot, in the same direction, within the same 23-minute period.

#1

In the first photo, the drama of the sky and waves did the heavy lifting, but because of the brightness, I had to underexpose significantly (1/2000-second shutter speed).

I could have left it at that and been reasonably happy with the result, but I stuck around, knowing there’d be a completely different opportunity very soon.

#2

The sun appears to set faster the closer you get to the equator, so in Hawai‘i, the magic/golden hour we photographers adore is actually closer to half an hour.

With the blinding rays hidden behind the mountain, the harsh shadows and contrast softened.

The drop in brightness meant I could raise the exposure and use a slower shutter speed (1/6 second). After multiple attempts, I got this moment where the spray of the crashing waves looked striking. I converted it to black and white to keep the focus on detail rather than the color of the sky.

What I didn’t notice at first (did you?) was that between the first and second shots, someone had wandered out to sit on the rocks in the distance, but they were a little out of focus.

#3

I zoomed in, reframed, adjusted focus, and because I had a tripod and the figure was sitting quite still, I was able to slow the shutter speed even more (0.4 seconds), letting the ocean waves turn glassy smooth.

I can’t necessarily say which—if any—of these photos is “better,” but they definitely feel different in spite of all the similarities, because even the "small" decisions matter in photography: exposure settings, where to crop and focus, and lugging your heavy tripod along instead of leaving it at home.

Sometimes, the most important decision is simply to wait and see if something changes.

What do you think? Do you prefer one of these photos over the other?

01/06/2025

MANNEQUIN ADMIRES TATTOO - Berlin, Germany

I rarely do street photography these days—and when I do, it’s usually just with my phone. I used to carry my big DSLR camera everywhere, but now I hardly ever bring it. Honestly, for most moments like this, a modern phone is more than enough. This was taken years ago, but there’s nothing about it I couldn’t have captured today with the camera in my pocket.

There’s that old saying, “The best camera is the one you have with you.” But even that doesn’t matter if you’re not looking. You’ve got to use the lenses in your head before you ever touch the one in your hand.

I love this about street photography. These weird, fleeting little scenes just show up sometimes—funny coincidences, visual jokes, tiny moments of accidental poetry—and if you’re paying attention, you get to keep one.

Is there an unexpected moment you saw out in the world—whether you managed to photograph it or not—that’s stuck with you? I’d love to hear it.

17/05/2025

Have you ever had the perfect gift to give someone—something they couldn’t normally get, maybe even something they wouldn’t know they wanted—but just… couldn’t give it to them?

As a photographer, this happens sometimes. Particularly when you’re shooting from a distance with a telephoto lens, you can catch a beautiful moment and think, “They’d probably love to have this photo.”

But you hesitate. Could be awkward, approaching them as a stranger. Might ruin the moment. I’ve been there lots of times, but in the case of the first photo, I literally couldn’t catch up to him.

Ironically, it wasn’t taken with a telephoto lens—it was a wide-angle, so I was much closer to the guy than it looks.

I was hanging out in Hawai‘i and saw he was about to jump, so I got ready and snapped it, catching him mid-air. Years later, I still think he’d love to have this shot, even if he didn’t seem like the type to treat it as a once-in-a-lifetime moment—more like someone who jumps off cliffs all the time. But still. I waited around, hoping he’d climb back up, but as far as I remember, he got on the boat in the distance and sailed off.

I even posted the photo back in the day hoping someone might recognize him—no luck yet. If you do, let me know. I’d still love to send it to him.

The second photo is a different story. I saw this family from a distance walking along an Oregon beach and grabbed a couple of shots.

This time, I made the effort to chase them down—partly because of that previous experience. I handed the dad my card and said, “Hey, I just took a cool photo of you. If you want it, email me and I’ll send it.”

And he did. They were genuinely happy to receive it. I like to think they’ve got it on their wall.

Sometimes, the photos you’d most love to have are the ones you’re least likely to get. Would you hand your phone to a random stranger to take a shot from 100 yards away and trust them not to run off with it? Probably not. Even if you have someone with you, it’s not easy to find someone willing—or able—to get the shot from that distance.
And when you’re soaking wet and about to jump off a cliff?
Nah.

So whenever I have the chance to give a gift like this now—I do.

17/05/2025

Have you ever had the perfect gift to give someone—something they couldn’t normally get, maybe even something they wouldn’t know they wanted—but just… couldn’t give it to them?

As a photographer, this happens sometimes. Particularly when you’re shooting from a distance with a telephoto lens, you can catch a beautiful moment and think, “They’d probably love to have this photo.”

But you hesitate. Could be awkward, approaching them as a stranger. Might ruin the moment. I’ve been there lots of times, but in the case of the first photo, I literally couldn’t catch up to him.

Ironically, it wasn’t taken with a telephoto lens—it was a wide-angle, so I was much closer to the guy than it looks. I was hanging out in Hawai‘i and saw he was about to jump, so I got ready and snapped it, catching him mid-air. Even years later, I still think he’d love to have this shot. Even if he didn’t seem like the type to treat it as a once-in-a-lifetime moment—more like someone who jumps off cliffs all the time. But still. I waited around, hoping he’d climb back up, but as far as I remember, he got on the boat in the distance and sailed off. I even posted the photo back in the day hoping someone might recognize him—no luck yet. If you do, let me know. I’d still love to send it to him.

The second photo is a different story. I saw this family from a distance walking along an Oregon beach and grabbed a couple of shots. This time, I made the effort to chase them down—partly because of that previous experience. I handed the dad my card and said, “Hey, I just took a cool photo of you. If you want it, email me and I’ll send it.”

And he did. They were genuinely happy to receive it. I like to think they’ve got it on their wall.

Sometimes, the photos you’d most love to have are the ones you’re least likely to get. Would you hand your phone to a random stranger to take a shot from 100 yards away and trust them not to run off with it? Probably not. Even if you have someone with you, it’s not easy to find someone willing—or able—to get the shot from that distance.
And when you’re soaking wet and about to jump off a cliff?
Nah.

So when I have the chance to give a gift like this now—I take it.

11/05/2025

MOM – Honolulu, HI, USA

A while back, my mom asked me to take a portrait of her that could work as a profile picture. I was happy to oblige, but pleasantly surprised.

Like many, she’s rarely been excited to be in front of the camera. So I took this rare opportunity to set myself a challenge: create something that worked as both a headshot and an environmental portrait, which captures not just the person, but also something meaningful about their surroundings to help tell their story. It's perhaps my favorite kind of photography to do, but I also had an ulterior motive.

In this case, without context, it’s probably not evident to you why the setting matters here—but it mattered to her, so it mattered to me.

That’s her favorite chair, the one she sits in the most.

She loves the lamp on the right, and it's also one that my dad picked out.

Tulips are her favorite flowers, so I included some in the frame.

The purple light in the background is part of a set my brother gifted our family. When one of us touches our light, the others all glow in our chosen color. Mom adores how these lights connect us, and purple is her color.

I’m always fascinated by the objects that matter to people—and why. My mom particularly loves sentimental knickknacks in her space, so narrowing it down was no small task. There were so many things I could have included, but it needed to feel balanced, not overwhelming. (If someone took an environmental portrait of you, where would it be, and what would you want to include? I’d love to hear.)

My goal was helping her feel more at ease by being in her element, a familiar, safe place. When your portrait subject knows the photo won’t be zoomed in on their face alone—that they are part of a bigger picture—it can soften the self-consciousness that often comes with having your photo taken, even while still being the center of attention.

Love you, Mom!

(See comments for photo/tech nerd details.)

10/05/2025

2 - Jerusalem, Israel (2013)

08/05/2025

DAD – Honolulu, HI, USA

This is my dad. I took the first couple of these photos a few months before he died in 2012 (I didn't take the last 3).

I realized today that my dad’s birthday passed a couple of weeks ago without me noticing. Hit me harder than I expected. I usually think about him when the date rolls around, but this time I didn’t give it a second thought until now—which brought a mix of guilt, and then self-forgiveness.

I looked at these photos again for the first time in a while and saw them with fresh, albeit older eyes. Dad looks younger than I remembered—presumably because I'm closer to the age he was back then.

I recall him being reluctant at first when I pushed him into a portrait session. But he relented quickly: he knew I was obsessive about shooting and carried my camera everywhere back then. I would’ve kept pestering him until he gave in. Dad may also have been a little flattered, and as other photos show, he often enjoyed being photographed.

All this got me thinking about why still photography still matters in an age of video dominance and AI creeping into—and sometimes smothering—creative spaces. A real photo freezes not just what was seen, but what was felt. As a photographer, you reflect on what you chose to include or leave out of the frame, the process of trying to achieve your goals, and perhaps even how you felt about the person, and what your relationship was like at the time.

Even if you weren’t the photographer, a good still portrait of someone you love is special—letting you really see them in a way you never get to in real life, which is always in motion, always passing, slipping away. The further you get from the moment it was taken, the more powerful it becomes.

For anyone who’s recently lost someone: it does get easier. Grief doesn’t disappear, but it softens. It becomes something you can carry—still heavy some days, but bearable. Even meaningful. Sometimes, even beautiful. Grief is the price paid for love by those left behind. That pain means you had something truly valuable—but it’s still a relief when grief fades, even if a part of you misses it.

(Note: check the caption for the photo nerd details)

28/05/2020

"GROUP" ONLINE CHAT

I was interviewed by The Unipiper at Weird Portland United about a project I'm working on.

You can read it here:

https://weirdportlandunited.org/2020/05/06/sage-interview-project/ ⁣

01/05/2020

So... you’re spending more time at home these days, and you’re looking for something to do that will be more rewarding than binging yet another episode of a random show. ⁣
⁣
Here's an idea:⁣
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Get in touch with your 𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦: an older family member or mentor that you love and respect. Invite them to record a video interview with you. Ask them some meaningful questions and... (to read more, find my comments in the comments section)