Portrait photography has always lived somewhere between representation and interpretation. This reflection sits within my broader work in portrait photography, where the focus is on presence, intention, and the moment someone becomes more than just a subject. It explores what happens when a portrait moves beyond likeness and becomes an act of recognition.
Things are still shedding. Ideas are still forming – shedding and forming at the same time. It’s that point in the year, isn’t it? And perhaps especially this year, when so much feels in flux.
There are pieces of art in my studio that I look at every day. They remind me of something I return to again and again in my work: we need anchors – to who we are, to how we show up in the world. But we also need threads that lead us to who we are becoming.
To our ideals.
To the version of ourselves we glimpse when we close our eyes – before the world weighs in, before practicality dulls the edges, before we start negotiating with what feels true.
Anchors keep us steady. They root us. They allow us to stand with integrity in the present. But it is those quieter inner visions – the ones we don’t always have language for – that keep us moving forward.
This is the space my books are now open for. Not simply to be photographed, but to create art that holds both of these truths at once.
Artwork for women who understand that shedding and forming are not phases to pass through, but practices to return to. Women who know that the year turns through the body first, before it ever shows up on a calendar.
These are spaces where anchors matter: ritual, devotion, repetition, the ways we tend our inner fires. And they are also spaces of relationship – with what is calling us forward, with the ideals we are still growing into. The woman we meet when we close our eyes – the one who remembers, even when we forget.
This is work for witches who understand that grounding without vision becomes stagnation, and vision without grounding becomes fantasy. That both are required and that art can hold the tension between the two.
These portraits are not about performance or self-improvement. They are not about becoming someone else. They are about giving form to what is already present and what is emerging.
This reflection sits within my broader work in intentional portrait photography – where presence, not performance, is the centre of the experience.
If you recognise yourself in this – in the shedding, the forming, the quiet remembering – you are welcome here.
My books are open for Portraiture.