THE PROCESS
Most women come to me wanting one photo.
Just one good one for the website or LinkedIn, and then they’re done.
And I get it. More than that feels like a lot — who’s it even for? I don’t need a whole album of myself. I don’t want to look vain, I don't want people thinking I need attention.
I don’t think that’s really about photos. I think most of us just quietly stopped looking at ourselves somewhere along the way — without even realizing it — and stopped thinking of ourselves as someone worth taking pictures of.
That’s why my work starts before the camera, and it doesn’t stop when I hand you the images. I’m not photographing the version you became to survive — I’m reminding you of who you are, and how to find her, keep her close, and continue to become who you want to be.
First, I’m going to ask you a lot of questions.
I’ll send you a few things to sit with - about 20 minutes, and you can go as deep as you want.
✓ Three to five adjectives your friends (or you) would choose to describe you.
✓ The last photo you loved of yourself, and how long ago that was.
✓ What the most beautiful version of yourself looks like in your head - and why you decided that one isn’t available to you.
✓ Why you want photos. And the why underneath that one.
I didn’t always ask any of this. It came from noticing how many women told me it had been 10 or 20 years since they’d been photographed, and wanting to know why.
So I started asking. Most of them tell me nobody’s asked me before.
When you show up, I already have a good idea of who I’m looking for.
Hair and makeup, if you want it, the outfit you love and never have anywhere to wear, music on, and a couple of hours that are just about you — which, let’s be honest, probably hasn’t happened in a while.
You don’t need to know how to pose. I’ll walk you through all of it.
20+ years in, the thing I’m actually good at is making a woman feel safe enough to let her guard down.
Because that’s when it happens. Somewhere in the middle, you stop performing, and your real self comes out. Sometimes that looks like laughing, sometimes it’s quiet and you just… breathe.
It shows up in the eyes first. Something in the way she’s holding herself lets go, and I can see it. That’s the moment I’m waiting for.
That’s the one I’m photographing.
So who are these photos actually for?
Most women assume the answer is everybody else. The website, the profile, the people who will see it.
What surprised me is how often it turns out to be the opposite. Some of these are only ever going to be for you, just like the experience. That’s what matters most.
A couple of weeks later we look at them for the first time. I want you to look for evidence — not to check whether you look good, because that’s outward, that’s for everybody else.
You thought it was too late, or you were too old, or that nobody wants to see this. The photographs are the argument — the proof — against all of it.
There’s a version of yourself you can picture, and you’ve probably decided she’s only in the past or only in your imagination. When we actually make that photograph, she stops being imaginary. You saw her. And then you carry her with you — into the room, into the work, into your life. It doesn’t stay in the picture.
Because the person who has to see you and love you exactly as you are is the one looking at you in the mirror.
“The only pictures of me I’ve ever felt beautiful and confident in, while still feeling like myself.”
I’m not asking you to do anything I haven’t done.
For most of my life I was the one holding the camera. Comfortable behind it. Safe behind it.
And when I was in front of it, I made sure it was the perfect version - the one I thought people wanted. I didn’t think being “the real me” was enough.
You have something to give that nobody else can — but first, you have to see it for yourself.
Let me show you.
You don’t have to feel ready.
You just have to show up, I got you.
You’ll leave with images that look like you, and something to look at on the days you forget.
Oh, and something your loved ones will find one day and say, this is soooo her!
And honestly — if you’ve read this far, you already started. Some part of you knows it’s time.