Daniel Archer came to photography through an association with theatre, a childhood passion that commanded audience attention and depended on the mechanisms of entertainment. His mother, a schoolteacher, and father, a police officer, raised him on the outskirts of Melbourne, where kangaroos “hopped in the garden,” to exaggerate his description. Archer was a notably young candidate when he enrolled in RMIT’s photography course at the age of 18. Despite this, he was accepted and spent three years mastering the technical aspects of photography, concentrating on the ratios and equations that contribute to creating a good image.

Only in his third year did he look outward from photography, taking note of fine artists like Francis Bacon and Bill Henson for the way they warped and worked the principles of colour and shade. After graduation, he thrust himself into commercial photography, where he learnt how to compose and frame products for prospective shoppers. Quickly, though, he felt like he hit the glass ceiling, a barrier familiar to Australians who find themselves desperately searching for an opportunity to advance—a pocket of air that they can swim, flee, or flurry through to escape. Archer fled all the way to New York and London, first on an internship with the Art Partner and then as an assistant for photographers whose names are so weighty that they could sink the screen. In 2020, after ten years of assisting and “digi-teching” for other people’s sets and images, Archer decided it was time to go out on his own, a sound choice considering the pandemic was looming large.

Before he started his solo endeavours, he collected images of all the things he admires: the artworks, films, music, colours and textures that he gravitated towards while developing his eye. This process of self-understanding reified the images he would come to eventually take. While his early photographs borrow traits from the photographers he worked amongst (understandably so), his images of the last two years are self-evolved, with surrealist qualities that can only be described with adjectives like sharp, cold, sullen, and strange. His aesthetic is reminiscent of Serge Lutens’ photographs for Shiseido in the 1970s, where the model is posed with crisp black hair, blushed eyes and plump checks, with contour lines that feather like a chiaroscuro painting, soft and shrewd. In each of Archer’s images there is a play of contrasts: dark and light, near and far, narrow and wide. There is something seductive and sadistic, as if the subject, landscape, or object is haunting and caressing us at once.

When I spoke with Archer in December, over Zoom, he was nearing the end of a year of large commercial projects for brands like Zara, Ami Paris, Boss and Dior Men and editorials for CR Fashion Book, Obscene and Numéro magazines. He told me he was ready to “switch off and recalibrate” and take time to reflect on his past, close chapters and open new books.

Throughout the conversation Archer uses the metaphor of a bubble to describe the delicate process of expanding your practice; a process that photographers like Juergen Teller, David Sims, and Paolo Roversi, whom all are mentioned, have done to great success. Our conversation begins with a discussion of Melbourne, then twists through topics like self-criticism, style, politics, and comparison—essentials for a photographer who has moved from the periphery to the commercial centre.

RACHEL WEINBERG What was growing up in the suburban Melbourne like?

DANIEL ARCHER It was a nice upbringing: lots of friends, lots of family, very Australian. Back then, there was not much to do. I did acting and theatre and would watch a lot of films. I was obsessed with fashion, not necessarily photography, but the way people in fashion could tell stories. This was in the 2000s, when Vogue Italia and Steven Meisel were creating the most incredible pictures. I found the fantasy, drama and theatre very inspiring.

RW How did you get your hands on magazines like Vogue Italia?

DA My mum used to do city trips, and I would always go to Magnation? I don’t know if it’s still there anymore.

RW It is!

DA Oh good! I would pick up magazines there and it was so otherworldly because I had no other point of connection to the world. It was pure fantasy.

RW What led you down the photography route?

DA I don’t really know; I kind of just fell into it. I played saxaphone in a band for a little bit, but thought if I wanted to make any money, music wasn’t the way, especially not with the saxaphone. I could have gone into acting. I felt very comfortable around the camera, and I felt comfortable connecting with people, so I felt like photography was a great way to do that. It wasn’t a chore to me. A lot of things in my life were a chore, but this I actually wanted to do. I followed my gut. That’s how I make a lot of my decisions.

RW And your family was happy with you choosing photography?

DA Totally. In the suburbs of Australia, you either become a tradie or get a job at Coles, so they were happy to see me branch out. I applied to RMIT straight out of high school and got in when I was 18. They usually don’t accept people that young because they want students to have a little bit of life experience. I really didn’t know anything about photography. They gave me a 5x4 camera, which I had never seen before. I guess that’s the way you learn. You just get chucked in the deep end and see if you sink or swim.

RW Were you the type of student that was looking to other people’s work as reference points, or were you looking to art or music? Before we started recording, you mentioned Bill Henson, which is an interesting person to reference because he is a fine artist who uses photography as his medium, like a painter uses paint.

DA I didn’t really know what I was looking at back then. I was still trying to figure out everything. RMIT was a technical school and was so in-depth. It was extremely difficult to focus on numbers and exposures. Only in the third year did we start to expand our horizon and actually look at other things and try figure out what we wanted to do. I was trying to copy other artists to see how they do it. More in the photography world, anyway. It wasn’t until later that I discovered my love for paintings.

RW And after you graduated, did you start working commercially?

DA Yes, I worked at the Myer Studios and Wellcom Studios, which I’m not sure are still around. It was all very catalogue stuff.

RW Did you enjoy it?

DA I learnt so much. I learnt how to light a pot and pan in one picture without any retouching. I still apply that knowledge. If someone asks me to shoot a fashion picture next to a perfume bottle, I can light the both comfortably. It’s amazing how lighting a pot and pan can relate to lighting a person as well. I’m thankful for those early years when I was just put in a studio.

RW For someone completing university today, would you recommend pursuing commercial studio work to enhance their technical and professional skills?

DA I think everyone should assist. I really do. I’ve learnt so much assisting. Nothing against my studies at RMIT, but I learnt everything I pretty much know through assisting.

RW Did you assist in Australia?

DA I started a little bit, but I ended up shooting more e-com work for money. I could press the button in -e-com, which is what I wanted to do. Only once I left Australia did I start assisting properly.

RW What prompted you to leave Australia?

DA I wanted more from photography, and I couldn’t find the market in Australia. I worked with a few well-known Sydney fashion photographers, but I could still see a limit in where I wanted to take my work. I didn’t want to be limited. I wanted to see the end and go to the very top. The top was in New York and Europe, essentially. I applied for an internship at the agency Art Partner and got accepted. I worked three months at the New York branch, which blew my mind. After that, I decided to move overseas. I was incredibly inspired by the artists and the work over there and thought that if I wanted to create that type of work and be amongst the best people, then I had to move.

RW Was it easy to find your way around when you arrived? Did you notice an immediate difference between the environment in Australia and what was available to you in New York? How easy was it to find collaborators and a community? Did you find it isolating at first?

DA People in New York are very friendly, and I found it relatively easy to make friends. I already knew a few people from my internship, and we stuck together because the industry can be quite tough. When I moved to London, I didn’t know anyone at first. Surprisingly, I ended up meeting several people from RMIT.

RW All together again! And was assisting a smooth process? Was it easy to get on set or did it take a while to find your way?

DA It took a while. Your name has to be passed around, essentially. It’s a networking thing, which is what fashion is. You don’t really have a folio as an assistant. You have a CV, but the way you get recommended is through other people. I started working for catalogue photographers, which were great, but I wanted more. I kept pushing and pushing, looking for new avenues and trying to find connections. I eventually had the opportunity to work for Tim Walker for a little bit. Working with Tim was incredible because we would work on a three-day editorial shoot. There would be 60 people on set and it was amazing to see all these creative energies come together to make one beautiful picture. They made fantasy into reality. It’s like a natural ecstasy. After Tim, I worked for Jackie Nickerson, which was also great. Jackie is a wonderful person and fantastic artist. I dabbled in retouching for a little bit. I was obsessed with working for other people and learning how they execute their craft. I spent ten years dipping in and out of assisting, retouching and digitech-ing. I worked on my own pictures, but never really solely focused on myself.

RW And at what point did you realise, now is my time?

DA During COVID. It was a good and bad choice. There was no work.

RW How did you survive?

DA I had one commercial client that kept me very busy, which was a blessing. I got to a point where I thought it was now or never. I think with photography you have to be all in. You can’t half-ass it. You need to put all your on the table. Otherwise, it doesn’t work. You need to be obsessed. There are so many other people that want to be photographers. If you’re not always pushing yourself, you’re going to be left behind, essentially.

RW Your images stand out for their technical precision and distinctive use of colour and light. The relationship between shadow and light in your work adds such depth that it blurs the boundaries of the backdrop, to the point where we don’t know where it starts and end. How do you go about conceptualising your images?

DA During COVID I had a lot of time to think, and I’m very thankful for that. I sat down and I asked myself, what do I actually like? During COVID, I printed out everything that I love about the world, including music, movies, paintings, photography, faces, and colours. I put it all on one big table and said, this is what I want my work to be. I want it to be like a Rothko painting as much as an Avedon picture. My work is a combination of what I love about the world and where I feel comfortable.

RW Do you think many photographers know how to bring what they like to life.

DA It’s a technical exercise. I can do it because of the years of assisting where I had to figure out how to achieve the ‘perfect red’ and learn tricks on how to converse with creatives to make one cohesive picture and world. It can be stressful at times because there are a lot of elements in place. That’s why it is important to have a good team. I put a lot of trust into people. I pick people because I love what they do. I want to create a world and see how they can contribute to it. I want to see what they can bring to the table.

RW Is that what you look for in an assistant, someone that can bring something new to the table?

DA I think everyone on my set has to bring something. I don’t like people hanging about and being on their phone, it’s a waste of time. I want everyone to be excited. Even my lighting director, he’s super excited about the briefs, and he’s obsessed with light. I work off energy. I think through assisting, I’ve been on a lot of sets in the past that have a very bad, toxic energy. For me to create the pictures that I want to create, there needs to be a good, healthy energy. It is very important to me. In the end, we are taking pictures, not saving lives. But I do take the job very seriously. It’s a dream.

RW In this industry, we’re all striving to create and inspire. However, sometimes the visual aspects dominate, inflating egos and diluting our mission. It’s important to remember that while we’re all aiming for the same goal, we each have our own approach. At times, we may share the same path, and at other times, we follow our own. Yet, we are all on the same road.

DA Yeah, it’s important to step back sometimes because you can get caught up in the transaction. I have learnt not to take anything personally and to focus on what is in my control. That is, everyone on set is happy and wants to be there. After all, I am the director of the set. I try my best to select the people who are there and I am responsible for them.

RW We briefly discussed your focus on technique, but I’m curious if you would like your images to be recognised primarily for that aspect?

DA I never really think about technique. It’s autopilot for me, which is what I wanted. I don’t want to think about mills and measurements. I wanted to focus on conveying a feeling. How can I enhance the feeling by adding more shadow or light? Especially with lighting, there’s a lot of technique and cabling involved. I don’t want to think about that. That’s why I hire other people. I tell my lighting director to enact the lighting changes. Yes, I could go over there and do it myself, but I’m speaking to the model to make sure they’re comfortable. I do a lot of colour work in Photoshop, which is technical in many ways and completely random in others. Sometimes I am just playing with sliders to see if the image visually speaks to me. It’s all about the quality. I think you have to learn the rules to eventually break them. You have to find the way that speaks to you the most.

RW Do you believe it’s possible to teach the skill of recognising what looks good and what works visually? Can you teach someone to develop an eye for aesthetics, or can you only enhance the innate sense they already possess?

DA When I was teaching in Venice last year, I tried to teach students how to feel a picture. They were very inquisitive for my opinion, but at the end of the day, my opinion doesn’t really matter. Only theirs’. I think people have to start asking themselves more and more because that’s what makes you unique as an artist and as a person. It’s your perspective. I think in the early days of your career, you’re looking for gratification, you’re looking for a pat on the back. But the older I get and the more experiences I have, it’s about whether I like the image. It can be hard as well, because some things I really love and can be received badly. It’s a balance.

RW Do you think there’s a clear distinction between personal and professional work, or do you see them as largely the same? Should you focus on projects that are exclusively yours and not shared with commercial clients?

DA It depends. To be a photographer and make money can be very difficult. At times I shoot commercial work that doesn’t look like my own work. I enjoy the challenge as its more a technical problem-solving approach.

That being said, I try to work with clients that want my aesthetic so I can apply my own visual style to their products. More and more clients come to me saying, “We love your energy, and it would work perfectly with our perfume. We want what you want to do.” Other clients might say, “We can’t see the shoes because it’s too dark.” Understanding the client and their particular needs is key.

RW How do photographers reach a point in their careers where clients seek them out for their distinct aesthetic, like Juergen Teller or Paolo Roversi, who are hired specifically for their style? It seems like it would take decades to achieve that level of recognition.

DA It is interesting. I don’t like to limit myself. I feel like sometimes you could box yourself into your own style and then you can’t get out. And I don’t want to become a fad. I don’t want to become a trend. I want a long career, which is why I don’t want to just keep doing the same thing over and over again. In that sense, I am always challenging myself. I don’t want to walk in the studio and all the lights are the same all the time. The same goes in a commercial capacity. Some clients will ask for the same yellow background I used in an editorial and that’s fine, I’m happy to fulfil the brief but personally, I’m always trying to expand.

Fashion is also quite political, and I’m always thinking about whether it is the right magazine with the right clothing, the right model, etc. But then again, there’s some new designers that are incredible who have little money, and I love their work, so I would be happy to collaborate with them.

RW What do you mean by the word ‘political’?

DA You have to be strategic, which I’m not very good at! When you pick up an editorial project, there’s a lot of things that come into play between politics and creation. Especially with the PR companies. A stylist working on an independent or niche magazine shoot might not be able to pull a Valentino gown if someone at Vogue has requested it. That is why it can sometimes be nicer to work with smaller up-and-coming designers that are doing incredible work and make just as beautiful pictures with them. At the end of the day, fashion is a multi-billion-dollar business, so you have to play the game.

RW Do you ever feel tired of the game or are you still excited?

DA Oh absolutely. I dip in and dip out. This time of year I switch off and recalibrate so I can come back in January with a new plan and new inspiration. It is very tiring to always wait for the next opportunity. I always think of concepts, and I collect boards and just wait for the right opportunity to come into my mailbox or the right meeting to happen. I have ideas that I’ve been thinking about for years now. They’re on the shelf waiting for the right thing to happen. The stars have to align.

RW Would you prefer to create projects independently, or are you looking for a platform or commercial backing?

DA Magazine's budgets have dwindled. A lot of the funds for my editorials come from my own investment. Professional photography has become very expensive. I can’t just shoot endless editorials because I would be bankrupt. If I do a huge set design and have a large number of people on set, it costs a fortune. If I want to do a project like that, I need ad jobs lined up to make up for it. When I do an editorial, I go all in. I put all my time, investment, and money into it so I can make all the decisions.

RW It surprises me that photographers like David Sims, who seem to favour the white or grey backdrop these days, might be doing so out of preference or necessity. Does he genuinely prefer this style, or do photographers reach a point where they stop pursuing what they want because they’re exhausted from constant compromise? It’s hard to know for sure, but I imagine consistently not achieving one’s desires can indeed be draining.

DA I’m not one to judge others work, however, I will say If a client like Gucci wants a simple white background, he accommodates that. It’s similar for Steven Meisel. While I wish the industry would offer more opportunities to younger talents who have fresh perspectives to offer, big brands still prefer established names like Steven or David because their reputation adds prestige to the images. It’s like Jurgen Teller’s campaign for Balenciaga, shooting sofas outdoors—it’s uniquely his style. His entire career has built up to these moments, so I think if you have the chance to create like that, absolutely go for it. No one else can replicate that.

RW You mentioned wanting to expand your bubble, which I understand as a desire to both challenge yourself and increase your opportunities. Considering someone like Jurgen Teller, who has spent 20 to 30 years perfecting his style before reaching the point where he could shoot iconic campaigns like the couch for Balenciaga, do you think there’s value in maintaining a consistent practice? Essentially, is consistency key to eventually reaching a point where you can truly do what you want?

DA Yes, in some ways. The way I see it, it’s about creating your own universe. What does your universe look like? What does Jurgen Teller’s universe look like? The ultimate goal is for someone to view an image without any identifiers and recognise it as Jurgen’s work. We become so familiar with his aesthetic and approach.

Similarly, whether I’m photographing a lamp, a sunset, or a cow in the street, I want each image to reflect my unique perspective—my universe. Ideally, this distinctiveness emerges naturally because it’s inherently how I see things.

RW Your images should have an identity.

DA Totally.

RW Are you self-critical? Do you compare your work to other people’s and think about how you can better your own?

DA No, I use other people’s achievements to push myself. Without competition, I wouldn’t have any motivation, really. I need other people to do amazing things to stay determined. Comparison is the thief of joy. But I think it’s necessary for my practice anyway. I need to see people doing amazing work for me to keep pushing myself. Otherwise, I’m complacent.

RW Is there someone that motivates you in particular?

DA Not necessarily. I think if I see an amazing picture, it makes me want to go out and take amazing pictures. Similarly, if I see a beautiful painting or if I hear a nice piece of music, it makes me want to create.

RW What are you looking forward to in 2025? Expanding your bubble?

DA I’ve been taking a lot of landscapes. I would like to look at doing an exhibition or a book. I don’t really know yet, but I do want to take a moment to pause and look at my work so I can sign off my past and move forward. I would love to see my work in print. I only have my own little print folio, which I obsess with, but I would like to see it in a gallery. That’s a way of expanding my bubble.

RW Do you come back to Australia often?

DA I try to but it’s so expensive now.

RW You don’t see yourself living here eventually?

DA I really love Melbourne, but it doesn’t inspire me. I really want Melbourne to do better. I think what you’re doing with the magazine is amazing for the city. I really want Melbourne to do well because I think it’s the best city in the world.

RW Why do you say that?

DA I just think the balance between work and life is good. There’s a great energy. Maybe I’m biassed because I was brought up there. If you could move Melbourne closer to Europe, I think it would be the place to be.

RW I often get in a spiral. I want Melbourne to be better, but I also want to be closer to the world. I guess its important to lean into our niche and make it as good as it can be.

DA Why do people have to leave Australia to be recognised?

RW Ask yourself that.

DA Yeah, I guess. It shouldn’t be like that.

RW Yes but I wonder if we foster an environment where people think that they can succeed here and that their tastes and interests are accounted for, would they want to still leave?

DA Is there enough creative work and jobs in Australia to keep creatives from leaving?

RW Yes, well, Dior is not coming down here. We hit the glass ceiling very quickly.

DA It’s a real shame. All I can say is that Australians do very well overseas. Australians have a go-getter attitude. They have a hard-working attitude but also can take the piss and have a laugh. If you want to make it work in Australia, you can. But I think you have to be a realist and understand that, yes, maybe Dior will never come. However, when has that stopped anyone from making incredible work?