Production Notes

Why Do Video Shoots Use So Much Equipment?

Whenever a client or on-camera talent arrives for a video shoot, I can almost predict the first thing they'll say:

"Wow, that's a lot of equipment."

Sometimes that's where the conversation ends. Other times they'll add something like, "I feel like I'm on a movie set."

I usually smile because, from my perspective, the setup feels pretty modest. I've worked on productions with trucks full of gear, crews of dozens, and enough equipment to fill an entire room. Compared to those experiences, what I bring to most shoots feels relatively simple.

Still, I occasionally forget that for someone who doesn't work in video production, even a basic professional setup can look overwhelming.

The amount of equipment we use depends entirely on what we're filming. A single person speaking directly to the camera requires a very different setup than interviewing multiple people outdoors in broad daylight. Every project has unique requirements.

That said, there are a few essentials you'll almost always find on set: a camera, tripod, microphone, lighting equipment, batteries, memory cards, and enough cables to make you wonder if we're building a television studio.

Speaking of microphones, let me climb onto a soapbox for a moment.

If you want to make a video professional lose their mind, record without proper audio.

I've been seeing this more frequently lately. People invest in cameras, lenses, and editing software, then completely overlook sound. Viewers will forgive less-than-perfect visuals far more quickly than they will forgive poor audio. If your audience can't clearly hear what's being said, you've already lost them.

The other thing that surprises people is how much lighting is involved.

One of the biggest misconceptions about cameras is that they see light the same way our eyes do. They don't.

I could spend several paragraphs discussing aperture, sensor sizes, and exposure, but I'll spare you the technical lecture. The simple reality is that cameras need significantly more light than most people realize. What appears bright and comfortable to your eyes can look dark, flat, and lifeless through a camera lens.

That's why professional productions often use multiple lights.

A standard interview setup usually starts with three-point lighting: a key light to illuminate the subject, a fill light to soften shadows, and a back light to separate the subject from the background. If the background itself needs enhancement, additional lights may be added there as well.

Recently, I photographed professional headshots for a client. The participants were surprised by the amount of lighting involved. Looking at the finished photos, you'd never know. They looked like clean, straightforward corporate portraits.

That's actually the point.

Good lighting isn't supposed to draw attention to itself. It's supposed to look natural.

Those headshots required four lights to achieve a result that appeared simple and effortless.

And that's true of many things in our profession.

The more experience you gain, the more your work appears effortless to the viewer.

I'm not sharing this to brag about equipment or technical knowledge. What I hope people understand is that there is a tremendous amount of craft behind professional video production. There are skills that take years to develop—understanding composition, lighting, audio, storytelling, camera movement, color, and editing.

In today's world, it's easy to hear phrases like "We'll fix it in post" or assume that artificial intelligence can solve every production challenge. Technology is incredibly helpful, but it doesn't replace expertise.

I've always preferred the philosophy of getting it right in-camera.

That mindset comes from an era when filmmakers worked with far fewer opportunities to correct mistakes after production. Even though today's tools allow us to repair many problems later, I've never understood why you'd intentionally create more work for yourself.

The best footage is footage that already looks great when it's captured.

If you're hiring a video professional, pay attention to their work samples. Look beyond flashy editing and ask yourself whether the footage itself looks strong. Are the subjects well lit? Is the composition intentional? Is the audio clean? Those details reveal a great deal about a creator's skill.

And if you're a budding video professional, invest time in learning the fundamentals. Learn composition. Learn lighting. Learn lenses. Learn audio. Master the craft before relying on software to save you.

And for heaven's sake, use a microphone.

The Interview I'll Never Forget

You're here for the name drop, right? The big flex.

I won't bury the lead. Over the years, I've been fortunate enough to be around some pretty recognizable names:

  • Bob Ross (and shame on you if you had to Google him)

  • David Letterman

  • Katsuaki Watanabe

To be clear, I wasn't the one conducting those interviews. I was part of the production crew. But being there, watching everything happen behind the scenes, was incredible.

These were big productions. The best equipment. The most talented professionals. Massive sets. Teams of people operating at the highest level.

There's something special about being around people who are masters of their craft. I'm sure you've experienced it in your own profession. You learn simply by standing next to talented people and watching how they work.

But when I think about the interviews and productions that left the biggest impact on me, two experiences stand out; and neither has much to do with celebrity.

The first was working with Jimmy Houston.

If you're not familiar with Jimmy, he's a legendary professional fisherman whose television show ran on NBC for more than two decades. I had the opportunity to visit his ranch and help produce a series of commercials with him.

First, Jimmy and his wife are two of the nicest people you'll ever meet.

Instead of putting the crew in hotels, they opened their home to us. They fed us; and when I say fed us, I mean FED us. The production meeting at 6 p.m. felt like Thanksgiving dinner. Crew call at 4 a.m.? Another full spread waiting for us.

Jimmy was also a complete professional when it came to content creation. He came prepared with ideas, schedules, and practical solutions that made every shoot run smoother.

One example stands out.

When we went out on the boat, everyone got to fish. At first, I thought it was simply because Jimmy wanted us to enjoy the experience. And part of that was true.

But there was another reason.

We were stocking the boat with fish that could be used as props throughout the shoot. Every fish we caught helped create opportunities for better footage and more production flexibility. (And yes, every fish was released afterward.)

At one point during the shoot, Barry Switzer called him. Jimmy put the call on speakerphone and introduced me.

Now look, I'm a nobody.

But Jimmy didn't see it that way.

Here's a guy who was a legend in his industry, and yet he treated every person around him with kindness and respect. He didn't act like he was more important than anyone else on set.

That stuck with me.

His professionalism impressed me, but his humility taught me something far more valuable.

The second experience changed me in ways I never expected.

During the pandemic, I worked on a fundraising program for the YWCA.

Like many organizations at the time, they had to cancel their annual in-person banquet and move the event online. They wanted it to feel like a live broadcast but didn't want the risks that come with an actual livestream.

Their first question was simple: "Can we make it feel live without actually being live?"

The answer was yes.

We filmed everything as though it were happening in real time, built the program to mirror a live event, and promoted it accordingly. The audience experienced a seamless broadcast, but everything had been carefully produced in advance. (For the record, this happens a lot more often than people realize.)

This project was especially meaningful because it came during my early days of self-employment. A friend had recommended me for the job—huge thanks to Tim—and it was one of the first major pitches I made on my own.

As part of the program, we interviewed several clients whose lives had been changed through the YWCA.

If you're unfamiliar with the organization, their work is remarkable.

They provide safe housing for women facing homelessness, domestic violence, and other difficult circumstances. More importantly, they provide support, counseling, education, and resources that help people rebuild their lives.

One interview in particular has never left me.

The woman we interviewed was incredibly open about the circumstances that led her to the YWCA. She shared stories of homelessness and an abusive relationship. What struck me most was how completely her experiences shattered every stereotype I thought I understood about homelessness.

I left that interview shaken. Not because the story was sensational. Because it was real. It forced me to see people differently. Even editing the piece afterward was difficult. Every time I reviewed the footage, I was reminded of what she had endured and how close many people live to circumstances most of us never imagine.

That's why I love what I do.

"Fortunate" isn't a strong enough word for the stories I've been trusted to tell. I've written before about how seriously I take that responsibility. When clients invite me into their world, they aren't just hiring someone to create content. They're trusting me with their mission, their experiences, and often their most personal stories.

Sometimes that means helping a business tell customers what they do.

Sometimes it means helping an organization raise support for a cause.

And sometimes it means sitting across from someone whose story changes the way you see the world.

Those are the moments I remember.

Not the celebrities.

Not the equipment.

Not the productions.

The people.

The people who love what they do. The people overcoming impossible circumstances. The people making a difference every day. Being around them makes me better at my job. More importantly, it makes me a better human being.

And that's something I'll never forget.