Twilight has always been my favourite time to photograph hotels. During the day, architecture and interiors can look impressive, but at twilight a property begins to feel different; the building settles into its atmosphere, interior lighting starts to glow against the exterior light and for a very brief period, everything comes into balance.

It’s that balance which makes twilight photography so compelling, but also what makes it so challenging.

There is only a brief window, often no more than ten or minutes, where the relationship between the sky, the architectural lighting and the interior illumination feels natural. Too early and the exterior still dominates. Too late and the windows become dark mirrors while the building loses detail and depth. In that brief transition, though, a hotel can take on an entirely different mood: calmer, warmer and more cinematic.

For me, twilight photography usually arrives at the end of a long shooting day. By then, the styling has been refined, the rooms have been adjusted repeatedly and there is usually a calmer atmosphere among everyone involved. The pressure is still there because the timing matters enormously, but there is also something quite rewarding about working towards a single moment all day and finally seeing it come together.

What many people do not realise is that the actual twilight capture may last only a few minutes, but the preparation often begins much earlier in the day. A successful twilight photograph is rarely spontaneous. At eleven in the morning I may already be thinking about where the sun will set, how reflections will behave later in the evening, which lights inside the building will need to remain on and which areas may become distracting once darkness begins to fall. Furniture may need moving hours beforehand. Exterior seating might need adjusting. Cars, barriers, signage or temporary objects often have to be removed long before the final image is made.

In many cases, there is no guarantee the scene will fully work until twilight actually arrives. That uncertainty is part of the skill and part of the appeal. You are effectively building a photograph in advance, based on experience and instinct, trusting that the balance of light will eventually arrive exactly as anticipated.

Weather also plays a major role. A completely clear sky can sometimes feel flat and empty, while heavy cloud can absorb too much remaining light. Often the most interesting twilight conditions happen when there is still a subtle texture in the sky, allowing the photograph to retain atmosphere and depth rather than simply becoming dark.

Technically, twilight photography requires precision; exposure balance becomes extremely delicate because the brightest and darkest areas of the image are moving closer together minute by minute. Interior lights that felt subtle an hour earlier can suddenly appear overpowering. Reflections in glass become stronger. Small lighting inconsistencies that were invisible during daylight become surprisingly obvious.

Hotels themselves add another layer of complexity because they are living operational spaces. Guests are arriving, staff are preparing restaurants, exterior lighting schedules may not yet be programmed correctly and public areas are constantly changing. Particularly on opening shoots, it is not unusual for lighting systems to still be unfinished or for certain parts of the building to behave unpredictably as evening approaches.

Yet when everything aligns, twilight can produce photographs with a sense of atmosphere that is very difficult to achieve at any other time of day. Light appears softer and more inviting and the building feels inhabited rather than simply documented. Spaces connect visually in a more natural way, with interiors and exteriors existing together rather than competing for attention.

For all the planning and technical considerations involved, there is still something slightly unpredictable about twilight. Every evening behaves differently. The light never repeats itself exactly. And despite photographing it many times over the years, there is still a moment, just before the balance finally appears, where it is impossible to know with complete certainty whether the image will fully come together.

Then suddenly it does, often only for a minute or two, before disappearing again.