The Visible Invisible One

The Visible Invisible One

When I was flipping through my work from the past few years I had to smile. There it was again, this unmistakable style in my pictures. Like a red thread, it weaves through my portfolio, without me ever consciously searching for it. Sometimes I'm amazed how distinct my signature has become. I probably couldn't even publish my images under a pseudonym without being immediately discovered.

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I find myself increasingly wondering: Is this personal style actually a gift or perhaps even a creative limitation? Does it sit within us like photographic DNA, just waiting to be discovered? Or is it more of a comfort zone that sometimes blocks our view of something new?

Sometimes I feel like a chef who unconsciously reaches for the same spice mixture over and over, despite firmly intending to create something completely different.

What fascinates me about this: In my photography, each image emerges from an encounter between two people. Every shoot is like a dance where photographer and model must tune into each other. Sometimes the chemistry clicks immediately, and special moments arise naturally.

On other days, it takes half an hour before a trustful atmosphere develops. And sometimes you feel like you're in your first dance class, unsure who's actually leading.

The longer I think about it, the clearer it becomes: My images are a reflection of myself on various levels. First, there's the direct interaction during the shoot. My mood, my body language, my way of communicating. All of this inevitably transfers to the model. A relaxed, positive day leads to different images than one where I'm internally restless or mentally distracted.

Then there are the creative decisions in the moment of capture: Which light I use, which moment I catch, which frame I choose. All these decisions are shaped by my current emotional state and worldview. Sometimes I later recognize in the images what state I was in. A kind of photographic diary that I never intended to keep.

And finally, my personality is also reflected in the selection and editing of the images. Which photos I choose from a series, how I develop them, which mood I enhance in post-processing. These are all highly subjective decisions shaped by my aesthetic and emotional preferences.

Perhaps it's like handwriting: Even when we try to write particularly neatly or completely differently, certain characteristic traits remain. They've become part of our personality, developed and internalized over years. Our style reflects who we are and how we see the world, even when we ourselves are often the most surprised by it.

So what does this mean for me as a photographer? The realization is actually quite simple: The quality of my images lies partly in my own hands. When I go to a shoot balanced and well-prepared, this calmness transfers to the entire atmosphere. On days when I consciously bring positive energy, more vibrant images emerge. I'm not entirely sure about this yet. But it's at least a theory.

Ultimately, it's a form of self-reflection: The better I understand myself and my impact, the more deliberately I can influence the mood of a shoot. This doesn't automatically make me a better photographer, but certainly a better partner in this photographic dance for two.

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