What Does Success Look Like in Your Room?

Somewhere along the way, the giant keynote stage became one of the defining images of success for professional speakers.

The massive auditorium. The enormous IMAG screens, with the speaker appearing as a tiny little peanut somewhere in the frame.

It's an impressive visual. But what if the work that makes your business successful happens in a room that looks nothing like it?

During a recent presentation to the National Speakers Association chapter in Kansas City, a speaker raised a question that was music to my ears.

He does a lot of his work in breakout rooms, speaking to smaller groups of people. And from what he shared, those engagements generate meaningful business for him.

His question, essentially, was how someone whose business thrives in smaller rooms is supposed to represent that work when the conventional image of speaking “success” looks so different.

I loved that he brought it up, because what success looks like for one expert isn't necessarily the same for another.

And I think we've become too accustomed to certain visual representations of professional success without stopping to consider whether they actually reflect the businesses being represented.

The impressive room isn't always where the value happens.

Don't get me wrong. There's absolutely a place for the big-stage photograph.

If you're delivering keynotes in front of hundreds or thousands of people, those images belong in your visual library. They provide legitimate evidence of the environments where you work and the experience you have.

And if you're trying to book more of those stages, photographs from the big events you've already delivered can help you represent that part of your business.

But what about the expert who spends most of their time facilitating workshops, leading executive discussions, or presenting specialized material to 40 people in an air-walled room?

What about the consultant working with a leadership team at an offsite, standing in front of a messy whiteboard that's next to the coffee machine and sink?

Or the speaker whose most profitable engagements happen in rooms with pipe and drape, roundtables, flip charts, and horrific overhead lighting?

There's meaningful work happening in those spaces. And the fact that the room itself isn't particularly impressive doesn't make the work any less valuable.

Here's what I'm looking for when I photograph a room like that.

Let's say I'm photographing an expert leading a breakout session with 22 participants.

The easiest photograph to capture is probably a wide shot from the back of the room. There they are - the participants and expert in front of the room. That's table stakes.

But if that's all I'm photographing, I'm leaving an enormous amount of the story on the table.

Consider what's happening throughout that room.

The expert leaning into a roundtable, having a one-on-one interaction with a participant. Someone asking a thoughtful question, leaning forward in their chair. People exchanging ideas, writing in workbooks, taking notes, or participating in an exercise.

Those are all opportunities to show what the experience actually looks like.

And there's a lot going on in my head while I'm capturing them.

I'm positioning myself to photograph the expert between the heads of attendees, bringing the viewer closer to the interaction instead of making them stare at 30 feet of empty carpet.

I'm watching facial expressions, body language, and gestures, anticipating the moments when the exchange between the expert and their participants becomes visually interesting.

At the same time, I'm working with the geometry of the room. The angles, the lines, the available light, and the opportunities to frame out distractions and direct attention toward what's actually happening.

Because that "ugly" room still gives me plenty to work with. I just have to stay focused on what's most important for the expert to share.

None of this requires pretending that the room is something it isn't. I'm not trying to make 50 attendees look like 5,000.

I want someone looking at those photographs to see the work happening among those 50 people and become interested in what that experience might be like.

That's what the photographs need to communicate.

Don't let somebody else's definition of success determine your photographs.

Back to that speaker in Kansas City.

His breakout-room work isn't some lesser version of a keynote. It's the work he does. It's where he serves people. And it's an important part of how his business succeeds.

Why would we treat photographs of that work as somehow less impressive because the room doesn't look like a multimillion-dollar spectacle? 

If your business revolves around intimate workshops, show them those workshops.

If you're facilitating discussions where participants are working through complicated problems together, show them what those discussions look like.

If you're delivering presentations in elaborate theaters with incredible stage production, show them that, too.

And if you're doing all of those things, show that variety.

The goal of sharing your visual assets is to help people understand the work you're doing today, the environments where you do it, and the experience you create for the people you serve.

The artistry comes from how those real moments are recognized, composed, and captured. The business value comes from having photographs that communicate something relevant about your work.

So before you decide you need a more impressive stage photograph, consider the photographs you already have.

Are they showing what success actually looks like in your business, or somebody else's idea of what it ought to look like?