Some people go their whole lives without being truly seen.
Their faces blur into the background of someone else’s story, their names left out of records, their lives unmarked in frames. For centuries, portraiture, whether painted on canvas or captured on film, belonged to the affluent and those deemed worthy of remembrance.

The rest were left in obscurity.

When they were photographed, it was seldom by invitation. A reporter hunting a headline. A government worker completing a file. A photographer deciding what the world would remember and what it would forget. The pictures told stories, but never theirs.

Who Holds The Camera Has Always Held The Power

Think of the Great Depression. Dorothea Lange’s portraits of migrant families were raw and unflinching, and they moved the public in ways words could not. They stirred empathy. They shifted policy. They changed lives. Yet those families had no choice in how they were shown, no voice in the narrative that defined them.

For generations, we have seen images of protests, of genocide, of immigration and displacement. The images carried truth, but that truth was filtered through someone else’s lens. The photograph spoke to its audience, but not always with the voices of the people inside it.

Restoring The Weight Of The Lense

Photographers carry an obligation. Those with access and influence carry an even greater one. It is never enough to simply press a button. The work asks for more. It asks us to understand, to listen, and to earn trust. It asks us to portray people as they wish to be seen, not as props in someone else’s story.

When we create with care, the photograph stops being an act of taking. It becomes collaboration. And the image becomes something deeper.

History has shown us what this looks like. Gordon Parks used his camera to tell the stories of segregation and poverty from the inside out, creating work that was both art and witness. Carrie Mae Weems made portraits that brought Black families into view in ways galleries and textbooks had long ignored. Their work proved what should have always been true. A photograph is never just an image. It is a statement about who is worth remembering.

Even In Our Studio, That Responsibility Matters

Maternity and branding photography may not carry the same political or social weight as photojournalism. But the responsibility is the same. The question is the same. Will the person in front of my camera feel seen?

Each time someone steps into my studio, there is an unspoken request in their eyes: Will you see me? Will you honor my story?

My answer is always yes.

Because Being Seen Is Everything

Photography has the power to erase, but it also has the power to heal. To validate. To affirm.

That is the kind of portraiture I want to create. The kind that says, You were here. You mattered. And you are worthy of being remembered.

Every portrait is an act of being seen. If you want portraits that carry that weight and tell your story honestly, my camera is here for you.

Further Reading on Representation in Photography

• Aperture Foundation – Essays and journals on the evolving role of portraiture.
• bell hooks on Representation – A critical exploration of how images shape identity.
• MoMA Magazine – Contemporary essays on photography, culture, and visibility.