Portraiture: The Language of the Camera in Digital and Film
This past summer, I was asked to photograph my family reunion in North Carolina. Compared to our previous gathering four years ago, this one was incredibly significant — we were having it near the plantation where our ancestors worked as slaves. I was intent on figuring out how to best capture the significance of the event: how would I frame it? Who would be in the photo? What emotion was I striving to convey? Ultimately, I grabbed my digital camera and decided that these were just decisions that I’d have to make in the moment.
Film and digital portraiture lend themselves to different kinds of storytelling. Through working on both staged portraits and photographing unplanned moments, I’ve learned that photography is less about perfection and more about the convergence of intention and chance.
When I arrived at my family reunion, I experienced exactly this when I spotted my Cousin Val carrying her daughter Ori as she cried in front of the gates of the plantation my ancestors had previously worked as slaves on; it was the exact moment that I was keeping my eyes peeled for.
I was very focused on capturing the significance of generational perspective when thinking about what I wanted to achieve with my photography. Then, I found my Cousin Antoinne, with his father sitting behind him, and his father’s father behind him. While each of them naturally have differences in appearance, they also display similarities in style, showcasing the influence each past generation has had on the next.
Pictured in the photo below is my Aunt Cynthia (center), Aunt Tamika (left) and Cousin Nyier (right). This picture holds much significance to me because of the story it tells about their relationship: Nyier clings closely to his Aunt Meeka a lot of the time; both Meeka and Cynthia are like mother figures to little Nyier. What makes photography so powerful is its ability to quietly reveal these kinds of relationships and emotional truths without a direct explanation.
In contrast, working in a controlled environment, where I was able to manage the detail and intent of every frame, presented a different challenge. When shooting on film, attention isn’t optional, it’s built into the process. Every frame requires intense focus, awareness of space and precision. It demands patience, knowing that ultimately every decision you make will be final. The fragility of film exists twofold: its literal physical nature gives it a quality of feeling alive, but it is also a fragile art in its need for physical attention — a practice that requires care.
This semester, I planned a photo series titled “Starboy,” in which I photographed Owen Cuomo, a talented musician and peer who plays the guitar and bass. In this shoot, he embodies the idea of an artist rising to stardom and the gap between expectations and reality — juxtaposing prospects of fame, popularity and happiness with the realities of burnout, isolation and pressure.
My goal was to create a softer look on my subject, without lacking depth or contrast. When shooting black and white, there’s much more of a necessity for variations in texture and light, rather than just focusing on differences in shades of color. So, for this shoot, I focused on achieving soft contrast across his face and torso, paired with a minimalistic but suitable backdrop fit for an eccentric artist.
On both analog and digital, portraiture is my favorite kind of photography to explore. Subtle shifts in posture, expression and lighting have the ability to completely transform an image and its message. There’s much creativity in portraits that goes unrecognized because the photograph can seem “simple” –– but every detail that you see is intentional. Having the patience to find the right frame has allowed me to produce the work I’m most proud of. Not only because of my effort, but because I was able to capture something real.
Regions: Boston