Chasing Light, Finding Style
A close-up of soft pink wildflowers blooming beneath a rusted metal gate, captured with the Fujifilm X100VI using the Fuji X Weekly “Vibrant Velvia” recipe—but with a personal twist: Classic Negative film simulation was used instead of Velvia. The result is a more muted, nostalgic version of the vibrant original, with a painterly softness and subtle pastel tones that still hold depth and character.
Yesterday, I saw someone post photos taken with their Fujifilm X100VI on Facebook—sun-drenched shots from Pisa that instantly caught my eye. The light, the tones, the softness… it was all so beautiful. I loved how the camera handled those bright sunny conditions, and since today is also clear and golden, I decided to try their exact settings for myself.
The idea was simple: use their Fujifilm recipe all day and see how my images turn out. It felt like a mini challenge—a way to push myself creatively while learning something new.
But as the day went on, I remembered something about myself.
Trying on Someone Else’s Style
I’ve noticed that whenever I see other people’s work using film simulations or custom Fujifilm recipes, I fall in love with the results. But when I try them myself? I often hate how my photos turn out. I end up frustrated, returning to my tried-and-true basics—then editing in VSCO or Lightroom to bring them to life.
That’s the funny thing about Fujifilm recipes. In theory, you don’t need to edit them at all. But if the result doesn’t feel like you, it’s hard to be satisfied with the image straight out of camera.
So, I began tweaking. I changed the film simulation, played with color temperature indoors, adjusted shadows outdoors… and by the afternoon, I had completely abandoned the original settings.
It wasn’t failure—more like exploration.
“Style isn’t something we copy. It’s something we grow into.”
A Lesson in Letting Go
Even though I didn’t stick to the original recipe, I held to one part of the challenge: I didn’t edit a single photo. I let them be what they were, and that alone was a stretch for me.
This whole process reminded me that it’s okay to admire other people’s styles while staying true to your own. I love seeing soft, pastel-toned, unedited photos in other people’s feeds—but that doesn’t mean I have to love it in my own work. And that’s perfectly fine.
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The afternoon sun kept pouring in, and I hoped to make the most of it—maybe take my family out for a walk so I could keep playing with light. But it didn’t happen. I came home to a teenager who was worn down by the day and caught in a wave of seasonal allergies. So we stayed in, where it was calm and comfortable.
What I learned
By the end of the day, I felt like I’d “failed” the challenge—but really, I didn’t. I discovered a beautiful pastel Fujifilm recipe that works wonderfully on sunny days, and I’ll save it for those moments when I’m after that particular look.
But for everyday use? I’m going back to what works for me.
I’ve also realized I’m still in a bit of a creative tug-of-war between loving the light and airy aesthetic and being drawn to dark and moody tones. And that’s okay, too. I’ll keep experimenting. Keep shooting. Keep tweaking.
Because style isn’t something you decide once. It’s something you uncover slowly, image by image.
Where This Leaves Me
Today didn’t go as planned—and yet, it still taught me something. I may not have followed the recipe, but I leaned into experimentation. I stepped out of my editing comfort zone. And I remembered that style isn’t something we copy—it’s something we grow into.
There’s beauty in trying, in changing course, and in discovering what really resonates with us creatively.
Have you ever tried someone else’s creative process or style—only to realize it didn’t feel like you?
I’m learning to hold space for both trying and tweaking. What would happen if you gave yourself permission to explore without needing to get it “right”?
