Mar 11
Written By Ky Khalil
Being camera shy doesn’t mean you don’t want your life documented. I know this from experience and with great empathy. I always feel pressure in front of a camera, when what I really want is to feel free. I wanted to put myself in my clients’ shoes and get a sense for what it’s like to be in front of my camera. So I set out solo, in the cold, armed with sequins and a tripod, to find out what it’s like to be photographed by me… from the other side of the lens. If you’re someone who usually dreads being in front of the camera, this is for you.
Listen, I loathe being in front of the camera. The second I find myself in front of a lens, I freeze. What am I supposed to do with my hands? What do I do with my arms? What even are arms?
I’m that person who, if there are ten photos taken of me, nine of them will catch my eyes half open and my mouth doing something weird that doesn’t translate into anything remotely graceful… Oh and also, I’m usually straight up not having a good time, or feeling present. It’s like an out of body experience that I really just don’t like. And when the camera goes away, relief follows.
You know what I’m talking about? (If you’re still reading… you probably do). So if you freeze in front of the camera too, yeah. I get it.
“Okay Kyle,” they say, “just stay away from cameras then.” (About that………..)
But in all seriousness, the problem with that is:
The truth is, I want my life documented, and I want it documented in a way that captures what my life actually feels like.
I think we all deserve to be seen, to be known, and to have a record of our lives. And to have the essence of what it was like to be here, now, with these people, immortalized.
And if you’re still here, reading this, you probably want that, too.
So……. what are we to do about this?
Well, I decided to f around and find out. One arctic spring evening, I got myself in front of the camera in, naturally, the most casual evening outfit I could locate.
This outing accomplished a few things. First: it put me in your shoes.
I packed up my fancy accoutrement and went OUTside outside. Like… dirt road, 45 degrees, wind howling, doing-my-makeup-in-the-rearview-mirror kind of outside. I got dressed in the front seat and got myself out in front of the lens. This, by the way, is something I’ve seen brides do time after time, but I’d never done it myself until now.
And even though it was technically a solo work night, something about it felt exposed. Not only in the practical sense (45 degrees with whipper wind is no joke, it turns out), but also, in the emotional sense. Can I witness myself, here? Can I let myself be seen, like, really seen, and not run from it? It’s so strange that I was asking that when I’m literally the only person around within a dozen-mile radius and no one is actually behind my camera but me. My already-enormous empathy grew 8 sizes this night.
TO BE CLEAR, I’m not planning to have you out eloping in 45 degrees with sideways drizzle, but let’s be honest: mountain weather has a mind of its own, and when it hits, I’ll be there. Your ride-or-die, the-show-must-go-on, we-out-here-in-these-streets kinda gal.
It was a …Scandanavian experience. But it gave me the chance to test out the little creature comforts I always pack for sessions when the weather turns.
If we end up with weather like this on your elopement day (because yep, mountain conditions can turn on a dime) I know exactly what to bring, thanks to not only a background of recreating in all kinds of conditions, but now also my own sequin-bedazzled field test.
Folks who’ve done sessions with me on chilly mornings and nights know I always come prepared:
- Hot hands for frozen fingers
- A thermos with something warm
- Heat patches for backs, bellies… (also butts? These could probably work for butt cheeks. Ngl my butt cheeks get cold)
- A big ol’ puffy coat
- A solid rotation of silly ski-trip dances for maximum circulation
I also know from experience that this kind of weather tends to create the most unforgettable moments….and some of the dreamiest photos.
I just want to say, I get it now even more than I did before. It took a lot to hype myself up enough to get out there.
Granted, this was technically a workday (I’m sorry? WHAT do you mean?) and not a grand adventure with a lover (a gal can certainly dream…). But there’s something about being in front of the camera that lays a person bare.
And even out there alone, BY MYSELF, I felt that sense of total exposure. No pun intended but also. Also. It got me thinking.
Why is it that so many of us, especially women, feel so uncomfortable in front of a camera?
For one, I think it’s because we’re taught to be looked at, but not taught to ask to be known. We’re asked to be photogenic, but not taught what it feels like to be fully seen. We grow up learning to perform beauty or likability for others, but not how to feel at home in our own image. We’re trained to see flaws first, and trained to apologize for taking up space, for asking to be seen.
So when the camera shows up, it can feel more like judgment than reflection.
And then we’re overcorrected, expected to offer a curated version of femininity (filters! poses! flattering angles! anti-aging! face-wrapping at night??? am I in the bad place???) and then often mocked and belittled for showing any amount of effort towards those ends (shallow! conceited! sell out! am I in the bad place??????).
We’re often already self-editing and self-surveilling before the camera even gets raised: primping, smoothing flyaways, tilting to catch the best angle. I know I used to and sometimes still do this. It’s because I’m afraid the images aren’t going to match how I feel from the inside. It’s because being captured as anything other than contained and put together feels… exposing.
As I was editing the session, I noticed that I was partially hiding my face in many of the early images from this session. It wasn’t until I spent some time grounding myself in the present moment that I started to open up to the camera more.
Before this experience, I don’t think I’d ever really felt what it was like to just… be in front of a camera, without self-surveillance, without scrutiny. I don’t know I’d ever let my presence and value simply exist in front of a camera before, not to be evaluated, by myself or anyone else, to have my inner narrator not running at 100mph, spiraling about how I’m being perceived.
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And then too, unexpectedly, almost oddly, there was grief.
Grief for all the versions of myself who weren’t documented with love and care. Grief for the parts of me that for so long were erased, silenced, distorted, hidden. And some of that grief, I think, comes from a history of being looked at in ways that never felt safe, or kind.
The camera, I realized, can stir that. Noted.
Being photographed can feel like trying to take a test we didn’t study for. But I’m learning that it actually doesn’t have to be like that.
The camera can be something else entirely: a place to practice, and actually revel in, being seen as you are, not as you’re expected to perform. A place to celebrate and document what moves us. Another way to see the things we love, and what makes us who we are.
Maybe you’re thinking okay, Kyle, it’s not that deep.
But idk dawg, I actually kinda think it is that deep.
Anyway – all of that was percolating in the background as I moved through the shoot. And instead of packing it up and heading home, I decided to push through and see what it might actually take to feel comfortable in front of the camera.
After all, I was alone. What did I have to lose?
Turns out- only dignity. Just kidding. (sort of.)
Among the list of things I did that resulted in images I genuinely love:
And somewhere along the way… I realized I was in it. Present. Embodied. And having fun.
That, I think, is what makes the best photographs: the ones that move us, that time-travel us straight back into the moment they were taken. Those images only happen when we’re relaxed, present, having fun, and connected to something deeper than poses or angles.
That feeling is what I’m after when I photograph you.
Yeah, we’ll take some cool photos. But what I’m really crafting here is the kind of magic that only shows up when you’re fully in it.
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Eventually, it did get so cold I couldn’t even do the “live long and prosper” without using my other hand to pry my properly frozen fingers into place.
That made me laugh, and gave me one of my favorite images from the night, because it felt most like me.
Here’s the thing I really want you to hear. Everything I chased out there alone in the sequins, including locating the permission to be seen without bracing for it, is the exact thing I’m guarding for you on your wedding day. You don’t have to show up knowing what to do with your arms (that’s my job, and I know how to do it better now that I’ve done this). It’s enough to know yourselves. And I’ll show you just how well I’ve come to know you from the other side of my camera.
If any part of this eased your fear about being in front of the camera… tell me. I’d love to hear.
And when you’re ready, let’s go write your next chapter together. xx Ky
