A Portrait Story
A meaningful image matters more than a perfect one.
I want you to look at this portrait. Really look at it. Feel it. Let it draw you in.
Where does your eye travel to first? Does it stay there, or does it move? How does it move? Do your eyes dart from here to there, or do they slowly swirl and absorb?
What does that movement say to you? How does this portrait make you feel?
There’s a real power to a portrait, and it’s not always obvious. What you see in a portrait can be different from how you feel about it. And often, your feelings are more representative of who you are and where you’re at than the actual intent of the artist ever could be.
Recently, I attended an artist’s talk at the Ipswich Art Gallery that opened my eyes. Hearing the thought process behind the work was incredible; I would never have “got there” on my own. It made me think deeply about the communication of my own work.
Usually, I don’t talk about my clients. I’m a firm believer that “what happens in the studio, stays in the studio.” I don’t even tag clients on social media. I believe their story is theirs to tell, not mine. My job is simply to show that I can create a space where truth emerges, and trust that word of mouth will do the rest.
But with permission, and with a heavy heart, I am going to share this one story.
Ian and Shelly
I’ve known Ian and Shelly since the early 2000s, when I lived in Marysville. We went through a lot together until I moved up north after Black Saturday. Despite the distance, we always kept in touch.
A few years ago, Ian and Shelly received bad news. Ian had cancer.
In the blink of an eye, three years passed. 2024 arrived, and they flew me back to Marysville to document a day with them. They each had ideas of what they wanted to create, and we did them all. I added in a few of my own. It was one of the most special days of my life.
I thought I knew love. But what I bore witness to that day showed me that I really didn’t know that kind of love at all. There’s a melancholy for me, an anemoia even, when I think of the time we shared.
The Swirl of Connection
We created this portrait together.
I wanted to show that they are two parts of a whole: never apart, yet not always together. The swirl of Shelly’s hair connects their minds to their hands and their hearts. Saudade. That deep, emotional state of longing for something or someone that you love.
We knew what we were creating. We knew why. Ian died a few weeks later.
The Meaningful Thing
A portrait doesn’t need to be a big thing. It needs to be a meaningful thing.
Portraits are what we hold on to when we can no longer hold on in person.
We all carry around cameras in our phones these days. We take thousands of snapshots. But I urge you: get yours out and make sure you have photographs of yourself and those you love. Not just selfies, but portraits. Images where you have taken the time to really see each other.
Print them. Frame them. Surround yourself with who and what matters most to you.
Because one day, that image might be the only place you can still find their hand in yours.
