Why Great Professionals Don't Compete on Price

Not every profession is solving the same problem.
Neither should every professional.

A few weeks ago, I came across an advertisement for a portrait studio opening in Singapore. They were a large portrait studio chain from China offering a complete portrait experience for $199. Makeup, wardrobe and professional photography were all included. I looked through the photographs and, to be honest, they weren't bad. In fact, I could immediately see why many people would find the offer appealing.

What stopped me wasn't the price. It was my reaction. For a brief moment, I paused and wondered what this might mean for photographers like us. The thought disappeared almost as quickly as it arrived because I realised those simply weren't my clients.

That wasn't meant as a criticism of the studio, nor the people who would choose it. Every profession serves different people with different needs. Some clients are looking for an enjoyable afternoon, a makeover experience or a collection of glamorous portraits. There's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

It just isn't the problem I've chosen to solve.

The longer I've spent photographing founders and professionals, the more I've realised the ones I admire most all seem to think alike. Lawyers don't spend much time worrying about the cheapest alternative. A surgeon doesn't lose sleep over the consultation fee at a neighbourhood clinic. A Michelin-starred chef isn't trying to compete with the food court downstairs. Leica has never tried to become the most affordable camera in the market. If anything, they've spent decades making sure they never are. They all seem remarkably comfortable knowing exactly who they're for—and who they're not.

Not because they're better than everyone else. They're simply solving different problems.

I think that's an important distinction many professionals forget. We often become anxious when we see someone charging less because we assume clients are comparing us on price alone. Sometimes they are. More often, they're choosing between two entirely different solutions without realising it.

One portrait session might be about creating beautiful photographs.

Another might be about helping someone represent the business they've spent decades building.

Those aren't the same product, even if they both involve a camera.

Maybe that's where many professionals struggle, especially here in Singapore. We grow up believing humility means saying less about ourselves. We become uncomfortable explaining why our work costs more because we're afraid of sounding arrogant. So we stay silent and hope people notice the difference on their own.

I've never found that to be particularly fair.

If you've spent years refining your judgement, investing in better tools, creating a bespoke client experience and developing a way of working that genuinely serves people better, I don't think you're showing off by helping people understand it. You're simply giving them the information they need to decide whether you're the right fit.

The portrait itself is only one part of what my clients invest in. They're also investing in the time spent understanding who they are before the camera is ever raised. They're investing in judgement, intentional direction, restrained retouching, fine-art printing and craftsmanship. The ability to know what a portrait needs—and what it doesn't.

None of those things are obvious at first glance. Neither should we expect them to be.

That's why they deserve to be explained.

Over the years, I've come to realise that the professionals I've admired most all seem to have something in common. They never apologise for the standard they've chosen to uphold. They don't expect everyone to become their client, and they don't need to. They simply continue refining their work for the people who value it.

Maybe that's why great professionals don't compete on price.

They compete on the quality of the problem they're prepared to solve.

And when they've spent years becoming exceptional at solving that problem, explaining the value of their work isn't arrogance.

It's part of the responsibility.

After all, people can't value what they've never been given the opportunity to understand.

‘Ejun Low