Trip Report: Art of Tiny: Macro Photography Masterclass - October 2025

When most people think of photography in Chicago, they picture skyline views, street scenes, or the reflections of Cloud Gate in Millennium Park. But for one week, our group of photographers zoomed in instead—way in. We traded sweeping cityscapes for tiny ecosystems, focusing on worlds measured in millimeters rather than miles.

Macro photography has its roots in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when scientists and naturalists first began experimenting with close-up imaging to study the hidden details of plants, insects, and other small subjects. Early pioneers like F. Percy Smith used custom-built lenses and extension tubes to magnify the minute structures of nature, producing both scientific documentation and mesmerizing art. As technology advanced through the 20th century, companies such as Leica and Nikon developed dedicated macro lenses, allowing photographers to capture true 1:1 magnification—where the subject appears life-sized on the camera sensor.

Following in the footsteps and curiosity of our predecessors, our Art of Tiny: Macro Photography Masterclass is all about learning to see things differently. Chicago, it turns out, is an incredible classroom for that. From urban gardens to sprawling conservatories, the city hides a vibrant collection of miniature subjects that reward patience, creativity, and a little technical finesse.

We began our journey in the Ravenswood neighborhood, a leafy stretch of northwest Chicago filled with historic brick buildings, flower boxes, and old-growth trees. It might not sound like a photographic hotspot, but that’s the beauty of macro work—any patch of clover or drop of dew can become a universe unto itself. Here we tackled the essentials of macro technique and our trusty instructor, Nick Sinnott, taught us about depth of field at high magnifications, focus stacking, and how to achieve sharpness across razor-thin focal planes as demonstrated in the photo below.

This image of a coriander seed is a stack of 18 separate exposures, and yet 90% of the image is still out of focus!

Each flower petal, pollen grain, and raindrop offered a new challenge, but we were ready after Nick showed us how powerful software like Helicon can help us overcome certain obstacles with focus stacking.

As our skills grew, so did our ambition. We experimented with water droplets on springs and wires, using refraction to create surreal images where entire scenes appeared inside a single droplet. It’s a phenomenon of physics and art—light bending through curved surfaces to form tiny, upside-down reflections. With the addition of speedlights, we turned simple subjects into dramatic studies in light and shadow, exploring how flash falloff and shutter speed can isolate a subject against pure black. Suddenly, the city’s background noise disappeared, leaving only form, texture, and color.

Orb weaver spiders are master architects of the arachnid world, known for spinning the classic spiral-shaped webs that glisten with dew in the morning light. Despite their intimidating size and vibrant patterns, they’re harmless to humans and play a vital role in controlling insect populations. My arachnophobia would have to take a backseat this week because our workshop happened to take place during "spider season." In the Midwest, this is typically late summer into fall, and it's when orb weavers are at their largest and most visible.

When it came time to apply our techniques in the field, we stepped into a living jungle at the Garfield Park Conservatory, one of the largest and most beautiful botanical conservatories in the nation. Opened in 1908, it’s home to more than 600 species of plants, from prehistoric ferns to desert succulents. For macro photographers, it’s paradise. Every step revealed a new micro-landscape: the geometry of cacti spines, the delicate symmetry of fern fronds, the soft blur of tropical flowers, and even a few fast-moving insects and hummingbirds. The conservatory’s filtered light, diffused naturally through glass and humidity, created perfect conditions for close-up work.

Fern fiddleheads are the tightly coiled young fronds of ferns, named for their resemblance to the scroll of a violin. In spring, they emerge from the forest floor in elegant spirals, covered in delicate hairs or papery sheaths that catch the morning light beautifully.

As they slowly unfurl, they reveal the fern’s characteristic fronds, making them a favorite subject for macro photographers seeking patterns, texture, and the quiet beauty of seasonal renewal.

Later in the week, we ventured to Lincoln Park, where the city meets nature. Starting at the Alfred Caldwell Lily Pool, we found a bustling community of spiders spinning webs across the water and dragonflies zipping between reeds.

Just beyond, the gardens surrounding the Peggy Notebaert Nature Museum were alive with pollinators—bees, grasshoppers, and butterflies feeding on late-summer blooms. Inside the museum, our subjects got a little more exotic: snakes, cockroaches, and a particularly photogenic box turtle named Harrison, who quickly became a crowd favorite. Each encounter was a reminder that macro photography isn’t just about stillness—it’s about patience and timing, waiting for the perfect moment when light, composition, and behavior align.

Our final day took us back indoors for a creative finale. Using flash setups, colored gels, and backdrops, we explored the abstract side of macro photography—capturing incense smoke swirling like galaxies, soap bubbles shimmering with iridescent color, and fruits plunging into tanks of water, frozen in mid-splash. It was a high-energy way to end the week, full of laughter, experimentation, and shared “wow” moments as images appeared on screens more art than documentation.

By the end of the masterclass, each participant had developed a sharper technical eye—and a deeper appreciation for the beauty hiding in plain sight. Macro photography challenges us to slow down, look closer, and notice the things we usually overlook: the way light refracts through a drop of dew, the delicate hairs on a bee’s leg, the geometric perfection of a seed pod.

In a city known for its architecture and skyline, we found another Chicago—one built on textures, patterns, and color hidden in the small corners of the natural world. And perhaps that’s the greatest gift of macro photography: it reminds us that wonder doesn’t always come from grand vistas. Sometimes, it’s right under our noses, waiting to be seen!