Seeing and Being Seen
My photography is an act of presence. For decades, I have made portraits of women not as subjects to control, but as individuals to meet in a shared moment of stillness. In that space, something quiet unfolds—something more honest than performance, more intimate than direction.
As the camera disappears, so too does the divide between “observer” and “observed.” We are no longer two, but part of a single, unspoken exchange. The photograph is the artifact of that shared silence.
Guided by mindfulness, I have come to see beauty not as something to pursue or define, but something that reveals itself when we are truly still. These images are not about perfection. They are about what it feels like to be seen, and to see, without judgment. My photographs are, “Artifacts of intimate moments shared.”
No artificial intelligence tools were used in this photograph.
I actually wished I had some Kodak Portra 400 or 800 film, and would have used one of my totally mechanical cameras. I am old(ish) and some of my sensibilities are even older. Two words that people often use regarding my photographs are Authentic and Raw. Most of my friends know I am not a fan of AI. I can't remember any photograph that has been in a gallery or won a contest, where I used AI to do anything. Now before you call me a hypocrite, I do/have used AI for fun things, and if I was still doing portraits everyday and especially weddings, I know I would use all the AI tools to make work more productive and profitable. I sometimes use AI tools at a client's request to upscale photographs, I don't use it on my own photographs. But these days I do what brings me joy, not money.
Now to this specific photograph of my friend Maria. I did use a good digital camera, Nikon Z8. I have "edited" or "processed" this photograph in ways that I could have half a century ago, only now digitally I can do some things in seconds rather than minutes or hours. This is Maria. Not a "perfected" or idealized version; this is her beauty. She was actually sitting next to me when I started looking at this photograph on the monitor. We have long discussed how I like the beauty I find in her, and all my subjects, not a Westernized Insta version. She was having an acne breakout that day but she only wanted me to retouch one pimple that she had "picked at." I do routinely retouch temporary things, but a skillfully applied touch of concealer makeup usually does the trick. No computerized skin smoothing. We agreed we wanted her skin texture. I have spent a lifetime learning how to see light, I really struggled with that when I was younger, and some days I still think I don't have a clue. On a very good day, my subject trusts me enough to allow me to see her; I don't mean see her body, that is easy, but to see who she is, when she may not even know who she is, that takes a huge amount of trust. Usually there are near infinite walls and boundaries that were built over years, and traumas. It is not a one way flow of energy and trust, for I have to be seen as well. It is as I stated above, "As the camera disappears, so too does the divide between “observer” and “observed.” We are no longer two, but part of a single, unspoken exchange."
There is no cheat sheet, no recipe, I don't know if I would share it if there was. What is required is to sit with your collaborator, to play, to abandon pretense.
On a good day, we may get an artifact such as this one of a moment that Maria and I spent one afternoon in Bowman Georgia. This is the beauty I see, whether she is posing for a photograph or coming into the kitchen to get coffee and try to wake up to the new day.
© Jason Machen