Capturing Industry: A Practical Guide to Photographing Pumps

There’s something oddly satisfying about photographing industrial pumps. They’re heavy, complex and full of stories—the kind of subjects that don’t pose or shine unless you make them. Over time, I’ve learned that capturing a good image of a pump isn’t about having the most expensive camera; it’s about understanding the space you’re in, respecting the machinery and knowing how light and perspective can tell the story of engineering done right.

Why It Matters 

In the flow-control world, most of what we build will never sit in a showroom or on a sales floor. Our work lives in plants, refineries and treatment facilities—out of sight for most people. Photography bridges that gap. It’s how we share the craftsmanship, reliability and scale of what we build with those who might never see it in person.

A well-taken image can communicate precision and pride faster than a page of specifications. It helps users, partners and even new employees understand the care that goes into each piece of equipment. For me, photographing pumps isn’t just about documentation; it’s about showing the world that behind every bolt and casing is expertise, teamwork and craftsmanship worth seeing.

Work With the Environment You Have 

Most of my photos happen right on the manufacturing floor, sometimes outside, sometimes deep in the assembly area. I don’t move pumps; they stay where I find them. They’re massive, and moving them just for a photo doesn’t make sense. That limitation becomes part of the challenge and part of the fun. 

Before I shoot, I tidy up the area as much as possible. If there’s obvious trash or clutter, I’ll clear it out, but I don’t aim for perfection. A little grit gives context. The cables, the cranes, the concrete floor—they all tell you something about where that machine comes from. When I do need to remove bigger distractions, I handle it later in post-production using Lightroom’s generative remove tool. The goal is authenticity, not artificial polish. 

Let the Light Lead You 

Lighting is the hardest part of photographing pumps because it’s rarely under your control. I work almost entirely with natural and existing shop lighting (whatever comes through the bay doors or overhead fixtures). You learn quickly that reflections and glare are your constant enemies, especially on painted or stainless surfaces. 

The trick is to move yourself, not the light. I look for the right angle where reflections fall off and the shape of the pump stands out cleanly. If it’s too reflective, a polarizing filter helps reduce shine and deepen color. When the light is streaming through a bay door, I’ll often position myself so the pump is front-lit and facing into that light source. It keeps details crisp and colors accurate. 

One small but important note: If you’re wearing a high-visibility safety vest, you’ll see its reflection everywhere. Those bright yellows and oranges bounce right off glossy paint and become impossible to edit out cleanly. I’ve learned to angle myself slightly off to the side or to step behind something that blocks that reflection. It’s one of those small details that makes a huge difference when you review your shots later. 

Of course, it doesn’t always work out perfectly. Sometimes the pump’s just not in the right spot to get good light. When that happens, I embrace it. Shooting into the open bay door, for example, can create a moody, high-contrast look where the pump fades into shadow. It’s dramatic and industrial—a bit of art in the middle of steel and concrete. 

Find the Right Angle 

If you only remember one thing about photographing pumps, remember this: get low.The best angle is usually the front quarter, not dead-on, not straight from the side but somewhere in between. From that position, the pump’s body and flanges line up in a way that shows both depth and form. If you shoot from a slightly lower height and tilt upward, the front of the pump feels larger, almost monumental. Everything behind it gradually recedes, which exaggerates its size and gives it presence. 

Most of the vertical turbine pumps I photograph are in process and lying on their side during machining or assembly. The same “get low” principle still applies, but in this case, it’s about finding a grounded, level view that captures the full length and structure of the pump as it stretches through the frame. It helps communicate scale and the precision of the build. 

When I’m on-site at an installation, I especially enjoy photographing crane lifts. Seeing a massive pump suspended mid-air, whether it’s being installed or positioned for alignment, tells a story of teamwork and capability that’s hard to capture any other way. Including people in those frames adds a powerful sense of scale and collaboration. Those moments highlight not just the equipment, but the people and partnerships that bring these machines to life.

Keep Your Setup Simple 

I shoot with a mirrorless camera—lightweight, reliable and easy to maneuver in tight spaces. My go-to lenses are a 35-millimeter (mm) prime or a zoom that covers anywhere between 16 mm and 105 mm. Those focal lengths give me flexibility without distortion. 

I control shutter speed and aperture manually and let the camera meter with ISO automatically. I keep a cap at 6,400 so things don’t get too grainy. I also never shoot slower than 1/100 of a second since I work handheld. Pumps don’t move, but my hands do. Aperture is where I make most of my creative choices—faster for dramatic depth, slower when I want everything from flange to motor crisp and sharp. 

Embrace Imperfection 

Industrial photography isn’t about perfection; it’s about honesty. Some shots will be glossy and symmetrical. Others will have shadows, dust or scuffed paint. Those things give a pump its character. When you photograph something that’s built to move the world’s essential materials, it doesn’t need to look delicate. It just needs to look real. 

In fact, I’ve taken some of my favorite photos by embracing these imperfections. A casting waiting to be machined might sit outside long enough to pick up a layer of rust, and when the sunlight hits it just right, it becomes something special. The texture, the color and the rawness tell a different story about the materials and the process behind them. Sure, it might not be the best fit for a marketing brochure, but for my own archive, those are the kinds of shots that remind me why I enjoy this work. There’s art in the everyday details if you take the time to look for it. 

Photographing pumps is a balancing act between documentation and art. You’re not just recording what’s there; you’re shaping how others will see it. A good photo tells a story of precision, scale and strength. Whether you’re shooting with a professional camera or a phone, the same principle applies: Find the right light, get the right angle and respect the machine. Anybody can take a good photo, and I am confident that by following these simple rules, anybody will be able to take professional-level photos of pumps and equipment. Because when you do, even a 10,000-pound pump can look like a masterpiece.