Finding the unfamiliar in the world’s most photographed places

London‑based photographer Joe Howard is known for his painterly use of light and colour, capturing everyday moments and overlooked scenes. His work centres on documentary, travel and observational landscapes.

One of my favourite things about photography is that it forces you to pay attention – to stop scrolling and practice the art of seeing. Photography is as much about finding images as it is about taking them. Your eye is everything, and capturing a new perspective of a place is the kind of challenge I look for when creating photographs.

For me, photography is about walking around aimlessly, getting lost, finding restaurants or beaches, and discovering areas you may have otherwise missed if you had just planned everything based on something you saw on social media. This approach is something I recently discussed with other photographers. Within this art form, we can be guilty of following trends, chasing “spots” or recreating frames we’ve already seen countless times. It almost becomes like a collection, rather than an act of creating your own images, and I believe that comes at the expense of creativity.

This debate stemmed from an interaction I had on Instagram when I shared a photo of Mount Fuji, taken from a rural area and what I thought was a fairly unique perspective. A photographer messaged me asking for the coordinates so he could take the same shot. I refused for multiple reasons, but mainly to encourage him to go out and find his own image – because the hunt is part of the reward. Another reason I didn’t share the location was because Instagram tourism has become a fairly big problem in places like Japan. I don’t want to be directing people down a small country lane past people’s homes for a photo, especially when we’ve already seen views of Fuji being covered up due to overcrowding.

It doesn’t take much for Instagram trends to take off these days. This is also why I never share beach locations when I travel. Being from Cornwall, I’ve seen the shift since places like Pedn Vounder started trending on social media. Beaches that didn’t even appear on Google Maps are now chaotic at certain times of year, with people queuing for photos. If you have any kind of influence in a niche like this, there’s a responsibility to consider the people who actually live there. Where Is The Cool magazine said on its Substack, “Secrecy is a form of care” – I couldn’t agree more.

In 2023, I was finishing my first self-published book KYANOS, an exploration of 10 Greek islands over a five-year period. I wanted to show what I felt was a more authentic representation of them – the contrast between the Ionian islands and the Cyclades, and the shifts in landscape, architecture and geology – to challenge the idea that Greece is only white-and-blue houses and windmills. The final location I chose was Santorini, almost as a challenge: to photograph a different side of the island – not the familiar cliffs of Oia seen on countless travel magazine covers.

Santorini is unlike any other Greek island. It’s a sinking volcano, with black sand and it feels part toy town, part working village. There are around 15,000 permanent residents, yet reports say 743,000 people arrive by air each year. On top of that, up to 17,000 people can arrive daily on cruise ships. For an island that’s only 29 square miles, it’s remarkable that it functions at all during peak season.

When I travel, my days tend to revolve around lunch and swimming – the in-between is where I look for photos. After years of travelling through Greece, I’ve learnt the best food is usually inland or in working fishing towns, and Santorini proved no different. By exploring without a plan, we found scenes that don’t usually saturate your Instagram feed. I understand the pull of Oia, but is it about wanting to experience it, or just showing that you’ve been? It’s overcrowded, the restaurants are repetitive and you pay a premium for the view. With the sheer volume of people, it becomes difficult, at least for me, to take photographs there.

Someone once said something to me that stuck: “You feel like you have to see Big Ben or Tower Bridge, otherwise you haven’t really done London, because that’s what people expect.” Are we travelling so we can say we’ve been somewhere, or so we can actually experience it? The photos I took on Santorini ended up being some of my favourites in the book – something I hadn’t expected. Someone told me they wouldn’t have guessed they were Santorini if I hadn’t said so, and I take that as a success. They are Santorini, just a version that feels unfamiliar.

It’s important to step outside your comfort zone and work a little harder for your images. Turning up, taking the obvious shot, and moving on feels like a missed opportunity. This trip taught me that there’s always more to a place than the images you see online, and that you shouldn’t let social media define your expectations before you arrive.