Headshots for Eclipse Chasers: Look Like a Pro, Not a Tourist

Ditch the Eclipse Glasses in Your Headshot

Your first instinct is to include them. I get it. Those glasses are your badge, a symbol of the tribe. But in a headshot, they become a wall. They hide your eyes, which are the single most important tool for connection in any portrait. Think about it: would a master carpenter use a headshot where safety goggles covered their face? No. They’d show the focused squint, the line of concentration. Your eyes tell the story of patience, of tracking celestial mechanics, of waiting for that perfect moment of totality. Eclipse glasses turn you into a generic silhouette. I once shot an astrophysicist who insisted on wearing them. The final image looked like a stock photo for “tourist at science museum.” We reshot without them, and the difference was night and day—her gaze held a quiet, knowing intensity that the glasses completely erased.

What should you do with your hands instead? Hold something meaningful. A high-quality solar filter for your telescope lens, a well-worn star chart, or even just resting your hands calmly on your tripod legs. This gives you a natural, purposeful posture. The prop does the talking, so your face doesn’t have to strain.

Choose a Location That Hints at Your Work

A blank studio backdrop says nothing about you. A sweeping mountain vista says you’re a landscape photographer. For you, the location needs to whisper “precision” and “preparation.” This isn’t about the eclipse event itself—that’s chaos, crowds, and weather. It’s about where the work happens. The clean lines of an observatory catwalk, the organized clutter of a home control room with monitors, or even the stark geometry of a desert research station at dawn. I shot a solar researcher in his lab, with a rack of spectrometer lenses creating a beautiful, out-of-focus bokeh behind him. It looked like a galaxy at his shoulder, and he didn’t have to say a word.

Avoid the obvious trap: standing in a field squinting at the sky. That’s the “before” shot. Your professional headshot is the “during”—the calm, capable person who makes the magic happen. Find a spot with clean lines and a hint of your tools.

Wear Gear That Tells a Story of Precision

Forget the branded conference t-shirt and the cargo vest stuffed with granola bars. Your clothing should be intentional, not just functional. Think in layers and textures. A dark, well-fitted henley or a simple collared shirt in a solid color works beautifully. The goal is to look like you’re about to check polar alignment, not set up a lawn chair. I always notice when a client’s collar is rumpled or a shirt is too baggy; it pulls focus from their face and makes the whole image feel sloppy.

What about jewelry or accessories? Keep it minimal and meaningful. A sleek watch, a simple chain. I once photographed a veteran eclipse chaser who wore a necklace with a tiny, polished piece of obsidian. It caught the light just so, and when I asked, she said it was from a volcanic field she’d done work on. That one detail added a decade of backstory.

Avoid the 'Eureka!' Pose; Opt for Calm Focus

The biggest mistake I see is the over-the-top “I see it!” pose: mouth agape, finger pointing upward, eyes wide. It reads as amateur hour. Your expertise is shown through controlled anticipation, not surprised reaction. Think of the difference between a race car driver before a start and a fan in the stands. One is still, focused, all potential energy. The other is just yelling.

So how do you achieve that look? It starts with your breath. Exhale slowly, relax your jaw, and let your eyes soften slightly as if you’re looking at a complex data set. Your expression should say “I understand what’s about to happen,” not “Oh my god, it’s happening!” Practice in a mirror. A genuine, slight smile that reaches your eyes is worth more than any dramatic gesture. Ask yourself: do I look like the person others would ask for the timing of third contact? That’s your pose.

Use Lighting That Reveals Experience, Not Drama

Harsh, dramatic shadows might feel “celestial,” but they often just look like bad office lighting. We want to see the experience on your face—the laugh lines from long nights, the focused squint—not carve you into a mystery. Soft, directional light is your friend. A large window on a cloudy day is perfect. If we’re using artificial light, I’ll often use a single large softbox at a 45-degree angle, raised slightly above eye level. This creates a gentle shadow under the chin that defines the jawline and a nice catchlight in the eyes.

The key is to avoid flat, front-on flash. It washes out every detail and makes everyone look like a driver’s license photo. Conversely, light from directly below or the side can create a villainous, Halloween look. We’re aiming for clarity and depth. I’ll sometimes add a subtle reflector on the shadow side to just lift the detail out of the darkness, maybe bouncing a little light back into the eyes to make them sparkle. It’s about revealing, not hiding.

Your headshot is often the first handshake you give the world—a journal editor, a conference organizer, a potential research partner. Make it count by showing the thoughtful professional behind the eclipse glasses. Show them the person who plans for years, not just the person who looks up for two minutes. Pack your patience, your most worn-in field jacket, and trust that your quiet expertise is the most compelling thing in the frame.

Related, and worth reading next: Your Headshot for the Flight Deck: A Pilot's Guide.