The Tender Alchemy of Seeing Ourselves
“When I say I want to photograph someone,
what it really means is that I’d like to know them.”
Annie Leibovitz
I am an artist.
It is instinctual to me to always reach out and attempt to capture the real raw juicy threads of life - in many creative ways.
I’ve always taken photographs of myself and of people in my life - astounded and curious about time and moments and how transient they are. A way of trying to see who we are, what light and darkness we carry, what stories our faces are telling.
These days people often say that taking selfies/ photographs of ourselves is narcissistic, or that we should stop taking pictures with screens and just live in the moment. I feel that is far too simplistic a narrative. We have always reached up on cave walls to record the symbolism of our lives - it a deeply human creative instinct which I am so glad for. The artists, the photographers, the social anthropologists, the creative historians, the teenagers pouting at the screen… the world of imagery and photography should belong to everyone not just those deemed rich, beautiful, acceptable, worthy or trendy enough.
Having experienced life breaking deep loss, I know how important and soothing it can be to have photographs of our lives.
When Sandra died, I was so grateful for every snapshot we had recorded. The small, ordinary images of us laughing in the kitchen, walking by the sea, messing about doing nothing much at all became portals into a world we created. Proof that we existed. That we loved. That we were here.
I’ve become even more passionate about photographing the people I love. These images matter. They remind us who we’ve been, what we’ve survived, and how we’ve changed.
After Sandra died, in the depth of early grief, I wanted to record what I felt so that later on down the path I could remember what it felt like and what I had survived and also so I could show what others hid - the ugly snotty raw awfulness of the pain. It is hard to look at - but some days this is what grief looks like.
I know so many people who dread being photographed. I witness family, friends, artists, even people who work in creative and public roles. They flinch at the idea of being seen. I understand that. I do too at times especially if it’s uninvited, forced or the photographer wants me to look a certain way. The tightening in the body, the discomfort of being fixed in a frame.
“ come on, smile love ?” — f**K OFF
Through developing and facilitating journeys like “ The Big Love Boudoir” and recently “Adornment” - I have been offering alternative spaces where we can explore our relationship with ourselves and how we are seen and see ourselves.
In Adornment, assisted by artist Anthony Wong we’ve been exploring how we show up in the world through clothing, style, story and imagery. At the end of each semester we hold a photoshoot. It isn’t a glossy makeover or a before-and-after reveal. I hate the flood of social media before or afters - I think they can be deeply damaging and feed into the patriarchal punch bag of societies approval of whats good and bad and better.
Our work in Adornment is a gentle, brave act of exploring if and how we can begin seeing ourselves as we really are in all our fullness.
In the first Adornment, we began by asking a simple question that opened a deep canyon of wounds and wonder for everyone participating :
What’s the first photograph of yourself you remember seeing ?
How do you feel about it ?
How has it impacted how you view yourself and the stories you tell yourself about you ?
This question brought so much rich magic and buried pain to the surface.
Some people had no photographs of themselves as children. Others had images that carried pain. Maybe they’d been coerced into the photo, or were pictured alongside someone who wanted them to be someone else. Maybe they remembered something cruel being said just before the shutter clicked. Those moments stayed in the body and shaped how they saw themselves.
In the second semester we explored what I call raw photography, we explore with each other how to show up unmasked - as we are, without the fixed smile or the carefully curated acceptable face.
One participant looked at their photo and said, “I look so sad.” I look at her with gentle curiosity and after a pause, she added, “I AM really sad.” And that was the truth of it. The photo was honest.
“I like to photograph anyone before they know what their best angles are.”
Ellen Von Unwerth
I recognise that in my own pictures too. The forced smile, the performative face. These days, I am trying to let my face simply be. Grief and spinning into menopause has freed me from the urge to hide my anger, sadness, rage, tenderness or resting slightly irreverent grumpy face. Not twisting myself into something more palatable, just allowing myself to be seen, when I can, as I am.
One participant found it very hard to look at the photographs of herself. She peeked a look, pulled a disgusted face and recoiled. Then, after a while of looking more closely, there was a small, wry smile. I said, “You don’t want to like them, do you? But you do like something about them.” She nodded. “I actually really like those photographs of myself, even though I don’t want to admit it. Even though I look old and wrinkly and I want to fight against that and not surrender to it. Even though I don’t look how I think I look. They do look like me, and I’ve never seen photographs like that of myself before.”
That kind of courage is extraordinary. To really be seen. To allow that kind of tenderness and truth. I want to honour the bravery of those moments, and to encourage us all to keep showing up in front of the camera, to meet our own eyes with kindness, to learn to love or at least be gentle with that person we see.
During one of our Adornment sessions, we invited everyone to bring in photographs of people they loved. We made a whole long table altar of those faces and spent time gazing at them. We wrote what we saw - funny, loveable, soulful, mischievous, courageous people. We remembered what was happening when those pictures were taken, the jokes, the tenderness, the things unsaid. It was so poignant and beautiful. Reflecting how glad we had those photographs of those people and how we wanted our loved ones to have memories like this of us - to ensure that happens we have to actually get on photos instead of avoiding them at all cost because of our insecurities.
I’ve always been fascinated by artists who use self-portraiture. As a storyteller, that has always felt powerful and every painting and book we create tells something of the self. Frida Kahlo painted herself broken, wounded, multi layered. She didn’t turn away from her complex deep self and pain, she turned it into art. Cindy Sherman explored identity and disguise, showing how fluid selfhood can be. Zanele Muholi photographs themself as a living archive of Black queer identity. Claude Cahun, decades earlier, created images that still feel radical and intimate today.
These artists remind me that recording images of ourselves is a way of exploring our existence and the world we find ourselves in. A way of saying, I am here. You don’t get to define me - I get to explore me.
On the surface my courses may look like classes about fashion, clothes or colour, what we wear… but those of us who snuggle in on Sunday mornings, know there is deep alchemy and magic in those bright boa filled spaces.
In our final Adornment salon we step deeper into ourselves. We make brave space to explore how we want to tell our own story through imagery and photography. We look at our own mythologies, hopes, fears and the possibilities of seeing ourselves in kind, powerful ways through a different lens. It is a time for deepened seeing beyond what is expected of us by others or the part of ourselves who performs in order to be loved or approved of.
Many of us are still carrying around so many early messages about what we have to do to fit in - many of us still holding ourselves tight like in those early first photographs we had taken. Worried that if we soften we might spill out in all our messy glory.
Adornment is a playful, gentle space to challenge and shake up and dig deep into how we want to be seen. Whether it’s the first step into self-expression or a continuation of a much longer deeper unfolding, each person is held in creativity, care and celebration.
Here are some musings for you to explore - Creative Invitations
Memory Dive:
“What’s the first photograph of yourself you remember seeing — and feeling something about? Was it joy? Discomfort? Pride? What story did that photo tell?”
(journal for 5 mins and then share in the comments if you like .)
Dream Image Prompt:
“If someone saw a photo of you today — what do you hope they would feel or think? What do you want your image to say or shout?”
(Make a short list of 3 words or phrases — e.g. ‘gentle strength’, ‘rebellious joy’, ‘soft but unbreakable’.)
Mirror Whispering:
Take 2 minutes to stand in front of a mirror or selfie phone
Say quietly something affirming for eg.
“I give myself permission to be seen in my fullness.”
Repeat it or rewrite it in your own fierce, tender words.
Write it on your mirror in lipstick !
Some Affirmations for seeing yourself in all your fullness
• I give myself permission to be seen as I am
• My image is not my worth but invite myself to see worth in my image
• I honour every version of myself that has existed
• I do not have to smile to be lovable or accepted
• My face tells the story of survival, a life lived and becoming
• I can look with tenderness at the person I am today
I also wanted to gift you our Adornment Playlist for this module : click below
A tender playlist for seeing yourself with truth and kindness
We hope to run more Adornment sessions in the future, especially in community settings and organisations.
I also offer one-to-one photo sessions for people who want to book a therapeutic nurturing day to explore being seen in a way that feels authentic, kind and true. Together we create portraits that look and feel like you — images that you can actually like, and can see yourself with love in.
And maybe next time you take a photograph, or someone takes one of you, you could practice softening into being seen and captured in that moment in history.
Remember that you were here.
You existed.
You were part of the messy magical history of the world .
“A thing that you see in my pictures is that I was not afraid to fall in love with these people.”
Annie Leibovitz
