I Didn’t Start Photography Because I Loved Cameras

I know that probably sounds strange coming from someone who built a career around them, but it’s true. It was not really about the gear for me. I wasn’t the person obsessing over technical specs or collecting lenses because I was fascinated by equipment. What drew me in was always people. Emotion. Connection. Although I would often get men saying things when I was travelling on holiday tours or buses: "Oh here's the girl with the camera." like my presence with one was laughable. For context, as a 22 year old travelling the world with a camera in the late 1990s, there were few "girls" with slr cameras.

Photography just became the language I happened to use to hold onto those moments.

When I look back now, I think what first pulled me toward photography was the feeling of noticing things deeply. I became interested in the way photographs could capture something people often couldn’t see in themselves.

That still feels like the heart of my work now.

I think many people assume photography is about appearances, but for me it has always been far more about capturing a truth but a beauty in truth. Of course I care about beautiful light, composition and creating strong images, but those things are not what stay with me most after a shoot. What stays with me are the conversations, the nervous energy at the beginning of a session that turns into happiness. I love the moment when somebody realises they don’t need to perform for the camera anymore.

Especially women.

Over the years, photographing women has taught me so much about how deeply we carry self-consciousness. So many women arrive apologising for themselves before we even begin. They apologise for ageing, for weight gain, for feeling awkward, for not knowing how to pose, for taking up space. There’s often this underlying belief that they need to become more polished, more perfect or more confident before they deserve to be photographed.

I understand that feeling because I think many of us were raised to see ourselves through constant scrutiny. We learned to analyse ourselves before we learned to simply exist comfortably in our own skin.

That’s partly why connection matters to me during a shoot. I never want photography to feel cold or transactional. I don’t want people to feel like they’re standing in front of a camera being assessed. I want them to feel seen properly as a human first.

Some of my favourite moments happen when people forget about the camera entirely. When they start laughing naturally, talking openly, moving without overthinking every angle of themselves. That’s usually when the most beautiful photographs happen too. Not because everything suddenly becomes technically perfect, but because something real finally appears.

I think photography has also changed the way I see women. Spending years photographing people up close has made me notice how harshly women judge themselves compared to how others actually see them. Women will point out every flaw while I’m seeing their warmth, resilience, humour, strength or softness. There’s often such a huge gap between how women experience themselves and how the world experiences them.

Sometimes I think part of my job is gently helping close that gap.

Not by changing people or by over-editing them into somebody else. Just by showing themselves with a little more kindness.

At its core, that’s probably why I still love this work after all these years. Not because of cameras. Not because of awards or equipment or technical perfection. I love photography because of people. Every person carries stories, emotions and pieces of themselves that deserve to be told.

Every now and then, someone looks at a photograph of themselves and says, “I like that photo of myself.”

That moment never gets old.