Human Technique: A Photographer's Guide to Authentic Connection

This is about photography—for the person in the frame, and a little for the photographer. But really, it’s for me.

When the Magic Isn't Happening

They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But even a seasoned photographer, someone who’s shot their share of models and celebrities, can sometimes forget a crucial tip. It’s something you need to remember whether you’re in front of the camera or behind it, especially when you’re trying to create a specific mood or feeling.

Imagine this: you have a new subject, a ton of goodwill, but suddenly… it’s just not working. The energy is flat. The photos and the general vibe just aren't coming together.

It’s important to remember there’s no single winning formula for every shoot, every person, every situation. That’s just life, and it’s even more true on a short photo shoot packed with opinions, uncertainties, and very little time.

So back to our set. The photographer tells the subject to harden their brow a little, to narrow their eyes, to bring some drama into their gaze. Or maybe just to smile. If the request isn't landing, a good solution is to glance at some reference photos to get an idea of what the photographer is ultimately aiming for. It’s a great idea that can shorten the path to that winning shot, but it’s possible both sides have forgotten something fundamental. It happens on set, it happens at work, and it happens in daily life.

We forget to be present. To just be.

The Myth of Perfection

Sounds simple, right? It turns out, it’s not. In our modern, information-saturated lives, criticism and judgment have become part of our inner landscape. You have to be careful they don't burrow too deep, because honestly, they don't belong there. If an actor walks off stage and gets a bad review, it doesn't mean they're a bad actor. Same thing if someone doesn't like one of my landscape photos—it doesn't mean it's a bad photograph, just that it is in their eyes, and only there.

But sometimes, that external voice seeps in. We start to internalize the criticism of others, and that’s where things get complicated. We think, we weigh, we hesitate, we ponder… just for one more moment, to be more prepared, more professional, more perfect. And all the commercial images flooding our feeds certainly don't help, sharpening our awareness of just how far we are from that ideal. Because really, who looks like a top model besides top models?

But honestly? That kind of perfection is boring. Beyond that, it fosters a complicated relationship of self-love and self-loathing. We are our own harshest critics. He thinks his nose is too big, she thinks her chest is too small, and on and on it goes… it never ends. There’s always something to "improve." The problem is that all this "improving" just pulls us further away from simply "being."

When all this complexity invades a photo shoot, or even just the relationship between the photographer and the subject, the workday becomes much harder. For everyone. (You might be surprised to learn that even professional models sometimes feel uncomfortable on set).

The Simple Act of Being

So what do you do? It’s much easier said than done, but it really is simple. It's all a matter of experience, honesty, and above all, love.

Here’s a personal story. I met with a couple who were about to get married. During our meeting, I realized the groom was, to put it mildly, not eager to be photographed. He was generally anxious about large events. For a moment, I forgot that besides being a photographer, I am first and foremost a human being. In an attempt to soften him up and lighten the mood, I laughed and told him I had experience with plenty of people who’d said the same thing, and that I always find creative ways to get a final product (that makes everyone happy) without being too noticeable. Sounds convincing, right?

Well… the groom wasn't convinced. I could tell he felt I hadn't truly understood him.

So I asked him what he meant. And this time, I listened. I really listened. The person listening wasn't the photographer trying to impress a client; it was just me. The background noise of the café faded away, and all I heard and felt was the very personal experience of a man who was not like "all those people" who told me they didn't like being photographed, for the simple reason that he isn't "all those people." He is him.

The critical photographer and the shy groom stepped aside for a moment. In their place sat two people without roles, who were simply present.

The Takeaway

That’s the trick. To be. Not necessarily—in fact, preferably not—in the role of "photographer" or "subject," with all the responsibilities and calculations that come with the job. But to be a human among humans. To release control, to listen, to show empathy, and to truly understand one another.

Oh… and the wedding? It flowed like an easy conversation between two people. There was no pressure from job titles or the burden of proof. I felt like a beloved guest; they took care of me, made sure I was comfortable. It was almost perfect—just how I like it.