A Note on Why I Photograph the Way I Do
I think I have always been drawn to the parts of a moment that most people do not notice right away. The small shifts. The quiet expressions. The way someone softens when they stop trying to look a certain way. Those are the moments that feel real to me, and they are the reason my work looks the way it does.
At almost every session, someone tells me they are not photogenic. Or they warn me that they never like photos of themselves. I hear it so often that it is almost part of the warmup. But I have never photographed a single person who did not have something honest and interesting about them. What they think they see in the mirror is rarely what I see through the camera.
So I wait.
I watch for the moment when their shoulders drop or their voice changes or they forget about the camera for a second. That is usually when the real version of them shows up. And once that happens, everything gets easier. I give less direction. They move more naturally. Their presence takes over, and I just follow it.
I am not really chasing perfect smiles. I am more drawn to the in between things: the lingering look, the soft frown, the almost laugh, the quiet interaction between two people. Even the small gestures, like scratching a head or brushing a hand across a chin. And there is something about the way someone looks directly into the camera, past the lens and through me, whether their lips are smiling or not. Not trying to be anything, just present. Those are the frames that stay with me.
I take my time because when the pace slows down, people settle into themselves. The moment becomes unhurried. The atmosphere softens. And that is usually when the photograph I have been waiting for appears.
My energy shifts depending on what the moment needs. I can be bubbly and loud when the right shot hits, and boy am I loud. And I can be gentle when someone needs coaxing into a softer space. But underneath all of that, I am always watching for the natural presence that makes a photograph feel honest.
When I edit, I still follow my gut. I always ask what clients prefer, and I take that seriously, but I am naturally pulled toward tones and colors that feel honest to the moment. I try to land in that middle place where their vision meets what my eye knows to be true. And when someone tells me they trust me with it, I feel a little like Anton Ego in Ratatouille when he says, “Surprise me.”
Maybe the simplest way to explain why I photograph the way I do is this. I am not trying to create a perfect version of anyone. Even when I guide someone into a certain stance or angle, it is never to turn them into something they are not. It is just to help them settle into the version of themselves I already see. And when something real slips through in the middle of that, the kind of moment that appears when someone stops trying to be anything else, it feels less like something I created and more like something I was lucky enough to witness.
