27/05/2026
Every founder I’ve ever photographed has said some version of the same thing. “I hate having my photo taken.” Every single one. And yet…
…most of us have no problem taking selfies and posting them all over social media.
I’ve often thought about why that is.
I don’t think it’s actually the camera that makes us uncomfortable. I think it’s the loss of control.
When we take our own photos, we decide everything. The angle, the expression, the lighting, the version of ourselves we want other people to see. We can take fifty shots and delete forty-nine of them. We can carefully curate how we show up.
When someone else is behind the camera, all of that control disappears. Suddenly we’re worried about how we look, whether we’ll appear awkward, whether we’ll recognise ourselves in the images. There’s a vulnerability in allowing someone else to see you and reflect you back to the world.
I’ve been fascinated by that idea for as long as I can remember.
When I was about twelve years old, I watched my first photograph being developed in a darkroom. I can still remember standing there, watching a blank sheet of paper rocking gently back and forth in a tray of chemicals. Slowly, almost like magic, a face started to appear.
It was one of the farm workers from my aunt and uncle’s farm in South Africa.
I remember staring at that image. He had a rolled-up newspaper cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth and the biggest grin stretching across his face. There was nothing self-conscious about him. Nothing performative. No attempt to look a certain way. He simply looked completely at ease in himself.
What struck me was that although he had far less than many of the people around him, he carried himself with a confidence and contentment that was impossible to ignore. You could feel it in the photograph.
That image has stayed with me for more than twenty years.
And if I’m honest, that’s what I’ve been chasing ever since.
Not perfect poses.
Not polished smiles.
Not photographs that make people look like someone they think they should be.
I’m looking for that moment when somebody settles into themselves. The moment the masks drop, the nerves disappear and they stop worrying about how they’re coming across.
Because anyone can learn how to use a camera.
The real skill is helping people feel comfortable enough to be themselves in front of one.
That’s why something always shifts during a shoot.
People arrive telling me they’re awkward, unphotogenic or that they never know what to do with their hands. They brace themselves for an experience they’re convinced they’re going to hate.
Then we start talking.
About their business.
About what drives them.
About the people they want to help.
About the impact they’re making.
The focus moves away from the camera and onto who they are.
And somewhere in that process, they relax.
The stiffness softens. Their personality starts to shine through. They stop performing and start showing up.
That’s when the photographs happen.
The images people end up loving are rarely about looking perfect. They’re the ones where they recognise themselves. The ones where they see the confidence, warmth, leadership and personality that everybody else already sees.
Capturing that authenticity whilst also building the right perception around your role, leadership and personal brand is what I’ve spent the last twenty years refining.
My process isn’t designed to make you look like somebody else.
It’s designed to help you feel comfortable enough to look like yourself.
And that’s why even the founders who swear they hate having their photo taken leave with images they’re genuinely excited to share.
Because confidence isn’t something I create.
It’s already there.
My job is helping you see it.
