Learning to See

"Expect the unexpected" has been my go to phrase for years, and honestly, it pretty much sums up everything I do. Whether I'm behind the camera, designing graphics, or editing video, there's this constant element of unpredictability that keeps me on my toes. In most other jobs I've had, you could map things out pretty clearly. But part of the joy that comes from sports is you never know what will happen.

You never know when that buzzer-beater is coming. You can't predict when someone's going to score in overtime, or when some random kid in the stands is going to catch a foul ball. These moments just happen, and they're usually the best ones. That's what I love about this work: it keeps me guessing, and it forces me to stay sharp.

Reading that article and assembling my image board got me thinking about all this in a different way. Sure, I can't control what happens on the field or court, but I have complete control over what I do with those moments afterward. I get to decide which shots make the cut, how I edit them, what story they tell together. That's where my creative voice really comes through.

Click the image to see my image board

Which brings me to why I'm working on my website for this course. Don't get me wrong my current site works fine. It gets the job done. But "fine" isn't what I'm going for anymore. I want people to land on my page and immediately think "Okay this person knows what they're doing." I want it to stay with them. I want people to frequently return to my site and use it as a template for others. Right now, my site is perfectly adequate, but not exactly memorable.

There was this one line in the article that really hit me: "we don't see with our eyes, we see with our brain." I've been thinking about that a lot lately. It's so true, especially in creative work. What we notice, what catches our attention, what we think looks good, etc. All of that is filtered through our own experiences and expectations. Two people can look at the exact same design and walk away with completely different impressions. One person might focus on the fonts, another on the color scheme, someone else might not even notice those details but get caught up in the overall mood.

This made me realize I need to think more carefully about who's actually going to be looking at my site. They're not going to scrutinize every little detail the way I do when I'm building it. They're going to form an opinion in three seconds based on their own frame of reference. That's both terrifying and liberating.

The article also pushed this idea that design should prioritize function over aesthetics. I get the logic behind that, but I'm not completely sold on it for what I'm trying to do. In my line of work the visual impact is huge. People are naturally drawn to things that look good first, then they worry about whether it works well. If something looks boring or bland right off the bat, people aren't going to stick around long enough to appreciate how good the fundamentals might be. That's the reality I'm working with.

So my goal is to create something that works beautifully and looks beautiful working, if that makes sense. When I look back at my portfolio, I realize it's never really been about just collecting technically perfect shots. Yeah, I want clean edits and good composition, but what I'm really after is building a collection that adds up to something bigger than the individual pieces. I've gotten better over the years at spotting moments that aren't necessarily the obvious ones but often end up being more powerful.

Sure, the game-winning dunk is exciting, but sometimes what happens right after (the teammate who pulls the shooter into a bear hug, the bench going absolutely crazy, the fan in the front row burying their face in their hands) can be even more compelling than the main event. These are the moments that capture the emotion behind the highlight reel, and learning to recognize them has become second nature.

That's what the article's whole "learning to see" concept meant to me. It's not about documenting everything that happens; it's about developing an eye for which moments actually matter and will resonate with people later.

When I was researching other portfolio sites, Marcus Eriksson's work really stood out. His site just feels right. It has this effortless quality that I really admire. There's variety without it feeling all over the place, and everything flows naturally when you're browsing through it. His logo is understated but effective, the typography is clean without being bland, and his color palette sets the right tone without being distracting. That balance is exactly what I want to achieve.

One of Eriksson’s portfolio pages. Click the image to view his site.

A second portfolio page with a different style

A client page that is simple but effective

After spending more time comparing his site to mine, I've started to see what I'm missing. Don't get me wrong – there are things about my current site that I really like. The buttons that cycle through images add a nice interactive element, and I think my dropdown menus have a unique feel to them that sets them apart from the standard approach. But Eriksson's circular rotating menu is something else entirely. It's both functional and visually engaging in a way that feels almost playful, which is perfect for sports content. There's something about that smooth rotation that just feels more intuitive than traditional dropdowns.

My dropdown buttons

My buttons which cycle through images

I looked at plenty of other approaches too. Some photographers go super minimal: lots of white space, rigid grid layouts, very clean and clinical. Others go the opposite direction with flashy animations and experimental layouts that are almost more about showing off technical skills than showcasing the actual work. Both approaches can work depending on what you're going for, but neither one feels right for me.

Looking at the images for this assignment I naturally gravitate toward cinematic visuals with darker tones and strong contrast. Something about that aesthetic matches the intensity of sports. It feels dramatic and powerful in the right way. For typography, I prefer fonts that are modern and clean but still have some character, which is why I chose to use Georgia. They don't need to be flashy, just confident.

The combination of dramatic imagery with sharp, straightforward type feels like the sweet spot for the kind of work I do. It lets the photos be the star while keeping everything organized and professional-looking.

What really excites me about this whole project is the opportunity to elevate my site to match the level of work I'm actually doing. Sports will always be unpredictable. That's part of what makes it great. But my job is to take that chaos and turn it into something polished and emotional that people will remember.

The article reminded me that good design is about training yourself to see things differently and then using that perspective intentionally. That's what I want my site to communicate: not just the best shots I've captured, but my whole approach to seeing the game, reading the crowd, and finding the stories that happen between the obvious moments.

If I can build something that accomplishes that, then I'll have created more than just another portfolio site. It'll be a genuine reflection of how I work and what I bring to this field.