You’ve seen them. Those incredible, eye-popping shots of a Mandarin dragonet or a Great White that look like they were taken in a studio, but they’re actually thousands of miles away under the Pacific. Then you try it. You take your GoPro or your fancy mirrorless rig underwater, click a few shutter buttons, and everything comes back looking like a smudgy, monochromatic bowl of blueberry soup. It's frustrating. Honestly, capturing high-quality images of fishes in the sea is one of the hardest sub-genres of photography because physics is literally fighting against you every single inch you descend.
Light behaves weirdly in the ocean. The second you go below the surface, the water starts "eating" colors. Red is the first to go, usually disappearing within the first 15 to 20 feet. By the time you’re at 60 feet, orange and yellow have checked out too. You’re left with nothing but blue and green. This is why most amateur photos look so washed out. People think they need a better camera, but what they actually need is a better understanding of light attenuation and how to bring their own sun with them.
The gear reality check for images of fishes in the sea
If you’re serious about this, stop looking at the megapixels on the box. Water is 800 times denser than air. That density creates a massive barrier for clarity. To get crisp images of fishes in the sea, you have to minimize the amount of water between your lens and the subject. This is the "Golden Rule" of underwater work: get close, then get closer.
Most pros use wide-angle lenses or even fisheyes. It sounds counterintuitive, right? You’d think you want a big zoom to stay away from the shark. Nope. A long lens means more water between you and the fish, which means more "backscatter." Backscatter is that annoying snowy effect where your flash hits tiny particles of sand or plankton in the water and reflects back into the lens. It ruins shots. By using a wide lens and getting within 12 inches of a reef fish, you cut out the middleman—the murky water—and get that razor-sharp detail people crave.
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Then there’s the lighting. Natural light is okay for snorkelling, but for "real" images, you need strobes. And not just one. Two strobes mounted on long, articulating arms allow you to position the light out to the sides. This prevents the light from hitting the particles directly in front of the lens. It’s a technical dance. Move the arm, check the shadows, hope the fish doesn't swim away. If you’re on a budget, a "red filter" can help bring back some warmth, but it’s a Band-Aid, not a cure.
Why the "fishes" vs "fish" debate actually matters for your metadata
A quick side note for the nerds out there: if you’re labeling your photo collection, use the right terminology. In biology, "fish" refers to one or many individuals of the same species. "Fishes" refers to multiple species. So, if you have a photo of a school of Tuna, it’s a photo of fish. If you have a photo of a Reef featuring a Clownfish, a Tang, and a Parrotfish, you are looking at images of fishes in the sea. Using the correct pluralization actually helps with SEO because researchers and high-end enthusiasts often search for "fishes" when looking for biodiversity shots.
Composition: Don't just shoot the back of the fish
Most beginners spend their entire dive chasing fish from behind. You end up with a hard drive full of "tail shots." Nobody wants to see a Grouper's butt. The best images of fishes in the sea always feature the eye. If the eye isn't in focus, the photo is trash. It’s the same as human portraiture. We need that "eye contact" to feel a connection to the animal.
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Try to get at eye level or even slightly below the fish. Shooting "up" toward the surface is a classic pro move. It creates a beautiful silhouette and uses the "Snell's Window" effect, where the surface of the water looks like a circular portal to the sky. It adds drama. It makes the fish look heroic rather than just a speck against a dark background.
Take the Pygmy Seahorse, for example. These things are the size of a grain of rice. To photograph them, you need a dedicated macro lens and a lot of patience. You can't just blast them with light; they’re sensitive. You have to wait for them to turn their heads just right. It’s tedious. It’s cold. Your ears might hurt from the pressure. But when you nail that shot of a creature that most humans will never see in person, it's a rush.
The ethics of the shot
Let’s talk about something that gets ignored too often: the environment. No photo is worth breaking a piece of coral. I've seen photographers literally lay on a reef to stabilize a shot of a Nudibranch. Don't be that person. Good buoyancy is the most important "camera gear" you can have. If you can't hover perfectly still without touching anything, you shouldn't be carrying a camera yet.
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Furthermore, don't harass the wildlife. Some "pros" will poke a Pufferfish to make it inflate or move a seahorse to a prettier background. That's not photography; that's animal cruelty. The best images of fishes in the sea are the ones where the animal is behaving naturally. A "cleaning station" shot where a tiny wrasse is picking parasites out of a Moray Eel's mouth is a thousand times more interesting than a stressed-out fish trying to escape a lens.
Post-processing: Where the magic (or the lie) happens
Every single professional underwater photo you’ve ever seen has been edited. It has to be. Because of the way water absorbs light, raw files come out looking flat and muddy. Adobe Lightroom is basically the industry standard here. The first thing you do is "white balance." You find something that should be white or grey in the shot and click it. Suddenly, the reds and yellows pop back into existence.
But be careful. It’s easy to overdo it. You see those photos on Instagram where the water is neon purple and the fish look like they're glowing in the dark? That’s fake. It looks like a cartoon. Real underwater photography should feel like the ocean. It’s okay to have some blue. It’s okay if the shadows are deep.
How to actually improve your underwater shots today
If you want to start taking better images of fishes in the sea, stop focusing on the camera and start focusing on these specific technical steps:
- Master your buoyancy first. If you are flailing your arms, you're scaring the fish and kicking up sand. Practice hovering in a pool until you can stay at one depth using only your lungs.
- Shoot in RAW format. JPEGs throw away all that "hidden" color data that you need to recover later in editing.
- Turn off your "Auto" flash. The built-in flash on most compact cameras is too close to the lens. It will only illuminate the gunk in the water. Buy a cheap external "video light" or strobe if you can.
- Get low and shoot up. This separates the fish from the messy reef background and gives it a clear silhouette against the water column.
- Focus on the eye. Use a single-point focus mode on your camera and lock it right on the fish’s eye. If the eye is blurry, the whole photo feels out of focus.
- Don't zoom. Use your fins to move closer. If you think you're close enough, move six inches closer (without hitting the reef).
The ocean is a chaotic, three-dimensional studio. You have to deal with currents, surge, limited air, and subjects that don't take directions. But that's the point. When you finally get that perfect frame of a schooling Barracuda or a tiny Goby, you aren't just taking a picture. You're bringing a piece of a hidden world back to the surface. It takes practice, a bit of gear, and a lot of respect for the creatures you're documenting. Just keep diving and keep the lens clean.