When I was 10 years old I fulfilled my fashion photographer fantasy. For my birthday, I invited all of my friends over for a photo shoot. I set up a portrait studio in the bathroom, styled their hair and face and encouraged them to look at me with their most vixen-like pouty stare (that of course I learned about in every fashion magazine I could get my hands on).
I loved it. I would have an “assistant” blow dry their hair to give that windy effect, and tell them to look sad or worried or surprised. I wasn’t a bossy kid, but I was very comfortable in this director’s role and so joyous that they trusted me to be in charge.
I see so much beauty in every face, in the lines of each hand, in the curve of a pregnant woman’s belly… and I want to capture it, give the gift of the beauty I see. I’m probably obsessed with capturing it.
If I had to do it all again, I might be a fashion photographer. And maybe one day I will be, but for now I relish in the intimacy of taking portraits of friends and folks who hire me, and still feel that familiar joy when people trust me to do this.