Everyone Wears a Mask

Don’t we all wear a mask?

A mask given to us or one we have installed on ourselves so we can be liked, accepted, integrated, included.

The honesty of photography could be debatable.

After all, the photographer chooses what to include in the frame and what to leave out—the angle, the light, the distance, the moment. We decide when to press the shutter. Even before the photograph exists, countless decisions have already been made about what the viewer will be allowed to see.

A leaf becomes a mask, held between the viewer and a luna moth hidden beneath it. What we see is what we are allowed to see—but what happens when the mask is lifted?

And in portraiture, the person in front of the camera is making choices too.

They know they are being watched. They become aware of themselves. They adjust their posture, their expression, their body. They smile. They pose. They give us something they have decided is appropriate to be seen.

In that sense, every portrait is a meeting between what the photographer chooses to see and what the person being photographed chooses to reveal.

Then how do you create an honest photograph? And is it even possible?

How do you get into that space where you are allowed to go beneath the surface of the mask?

Not to force it off. Not to expose something private or take something that wasn't offered. But to create enough trust and enough space for someone to let you in.

For the person standing in front of the lens to open up—not so much to me or to the world, but to themselves—and for me to recognize that moment and know when to press the shutter.

Would being in that moment make an honest photograph? Isn’t something revealed, even for a fraction of a second, still truth?