Have you ever looked at a portrait and felt something stir that you couldn’t quite explain? Maybe it was a photo of yourself, maybe of someone else and for reasons you couldn’t put into words, it stayed with you.
That’s the thing about portraits: they don’t live only in the intention of the photographer. They live in the space between the image and the person who’s looking at it.
I can bring all the care in the world to shaping a portrait. I think about light, gesture, stillness. I hold the atmosphere in the room so my sitter feels safe enough to let their guard down. That’s my work, and my intention is always to create something true. But once the portrait leaves my hands, it no longer fully belongs to me.
The moment a photograph is seen, it becomes something else. A mirror. A reminder. A whisper. And what you feel looking at it might say more about where you are in your own life than what I was trying to say when I made it.
I’ve had clients see strength in their images that I didn’t consciously set out to create. Others have seen softness, or even a trace of sorrow. Sometimes their partner or child sees something different again – a flash of joy, a quiet determination, a tenderness only they would recognise.
And that’s the beauty of it. Portraits are alive. They shift and change depending on who’s looking, and when. An image that feels empowering today might feel nostalgic in ten years, and later still it might become a source of comfort.
A portrait is never a fixed story. It’s an invitation.
Not to see what I see, but to feel whatever it awakens in you.