Shared intimacies

I was having a conversations with someone who wanted to use my photos as inspiration for her art. I said that was okay by me, but it might be a bit hard to find something that worked, because I do not create art for the masses. Instead, what I do is create images of a shared intimacy, a moment between the artist and the subject, and—while beautiful—the meaning of the images are designed to resonate specifically for that person or those people.

I called these shared intimacies, but I feel the word intimacy needs to be explained. We frequently take the word to be code for “would you like to go back to my place, bouncy bouncy?” And while physical and sexual intimacy are perfectly valid parts of what the word mean, psychologists tell us there are four types of intimacy, or five, or seven, or even 12. But no matter which way you slice it, only one of those intimacies is physical. The others are emotional, or spiritual, or intellectual or work-based intimacy. (There are even more, and if you want to read about them, you could do worse than checking out this article.)

If you are looking at the long list, two types of intimacies shared are aesthetic and creative.

Aesthetic intimacy is the experience of beauty: a sunset, a forest, a mountain peak. Creative intimacy is the act of, well, creating things. this can be things like personal growth together, but also creating art together.

It is these two that are at the heart of what I mean by a shared intimacy. Portrait photography is a creative process, a way of working together to make something beyond what either person can do alone. To accomplish that, there must be at least some overlap on what a definition of beauty is. For me, it is an interior process as much as it is an exterior, which is why I strive to capture emotion and character. A laugh, a moment of confidence or passion or joy.

This, too, becomes a shared moment of intimacy. Making a client laugh or feel powerful or sexy or joyful? There is a connection formed. An experience created. A memory made.

My goal here is not to be just a button pusher. Point, click, next. My hope is to create an environment where people can feel free to be who they are, at their core.

This is not art for the masses, to be appreciated by all. And that’s okay. In another corner of my life, I am a musician, and there are plenty of genres of music; you don’t have to like all of them. Certain things appeal to different people. Some people love rap, while others don’t understand the magnetic appeal of country. The art that, say, Mozart made will resonate with some people, while others will gravitate towards the soothing sounds of Slayer.

Or consider live music. A concert is a shared experience between the band and the people that are there. It lasts for a time, and then is over. Nobody else will experience that very show, even if it was recorded. Anyone who watches or listens to a recording after the fact, will not feel the thump of the bass in their chest, the press of bodies around them or the smells of sweat and weed and fog machine. They won’t feel the sheer elation of the dance, as the music swells and transports you to a different place.

The music is just a memento, a token held that brings back memories of the experience. For someone who was at the show, the music brings back recollections of the feelings that ran through you as the band started your favourite song. But for someone who wasn’t at the show? They might appreciate the art from the outside, admire the skill of the players. They might even feel something listening to the music, but it will not be the same feeling of someone who was there.

That is what photography is about. It’s about creating an experience. It’s about taking a moment and creating a memory. Creating art that may only resonate with one person, that may only ever be seen by one person. It is something greater than the sum of its parts, a combination of the photographer and the subject, working together to make something special. 

In order to do this, there needs to be trust, which is a building block of intimacy. You need to trust that I am going to try and capture that which is best about you, the most beautiful, even if the pose feels awkward, or the moment feels strange. It’s like two dancers on stage; she needs to trust that he will catch her when she leaps into the air.

There is no “say cheese” here. This is a process of opening up and of pouring out. Of revelation and creation. Of connecting to the ineffable part of you and making it visible. It’s not just capturing the seen, but the unseen.

It is a shared process, a shared moment, a shared intimacy.