And It Only Took 14 Years to Admit It
I realized something tonight while scanning my film photos from last weekend's boudoir shoot: I’m a DAMN good photographer.
Silly, right? I’ve been doing this for what...fourteen years? You’d think I’d have said that my first year of business. Or maybe I did say it, with the bravado of a new artist who doesn’t know the weight of what they’re claiming. But if I said it back then, I believed it about 50%. Maybe less. Maybe I just hoped it would be true if I said it enough times.
But tonight…something clicked(pun not intended).
I looked at the film scans on my computer screen, those beautiful, grainy little miracles of shadow and light, and I grinned. Ear to ear. Like a lunatic. Not because of a silly photo I had forgotten about or some lighting setup that paid off. No, I smiled because for the first time in forever, I didn’t feel like an impostor.
I looked at the photos and saw the work. The real work. The kind that doesn’t show up in the frame but lives in it anyway. The drawings in my notebook. The hundreds of magazine pages, dog eared. The poses I’ve whispered through while pacing my studio floor. The awkward giggles and the little yeses I've collected from clients, models, partners, the people who let me guide them and pose them, and remind them who the hell they are.
These photos aren’t happy accidents. These are repetitions. Rituals. This is muscle memory meets heart memory.
You don’t know how to pose? That’s fine. I do. I don’t expect you to show up ready to perform. You’re not auditioning for beautiful. You already are.
Here’s the thing: You have taken a good photo before. Maybe it was a selfie with the sun just right. Maybe a friend caught you laughing when you forgot to hide your true self. You looked at it and said, “Damn… that’s me. And I look hot.”
But what if I told you that moment wasn’t rare? What if I told you I can repeat it? Over and over. On purpose. Because your beauty isn’t a mistake. It’s not new. It’s not surprising. It didn’t magically show up after you lost ten pounds, bought a new bra or broke up with your partner. It was always there. Your beauty has a past, a present, and a future. And I photograph all three.
I see you now, through the lens. I see the person you’ve always been and the person you'll become. I see the softness, the resilience, the little smirks and the big sighs. I see what your loved ones see when they stare too long. I see what your mirror sometimes lies about. And I’ll be damned if I don’t photograph you like art.
Because you are.
You are art.
You always were.
And tonight, looking at film in between bites of french fries with mumbo sauce, I finally let myself believe the thing I’ve known for years: I’m good at this. Not by luck. Not by accident. Not even by talent alone. By love. By obsession. By repetition.
So let me be your mirror. Let me remind you. Let me photograph you for the future, so when you forget, you’ll have proof. You were beautiful. You still are. You will always be.
Come be my muse. Let’s make something honest. Let’s make something unforgettable. Let's celebrate you.
-Marvin
