I Knew Very Little When I Started
Every so often I find myself opening one of my oldest folders.
CP090.
CP093.
CP094.
The numbers mean almost nothing to anyone else.
To me, they mark the beginning of a life I hadn't yet imagined.
I look at those portraits with enormous affection.
Not because they're my best work.
They're not.
I smile because I recognise the woman who made them.
She thought she was learning photography.
She had no idea she was beginning an education in people.
Looking back, the surprising thing isn't how much I've changed.
It's how much I already knew without understanding why.
I already preferred simple backgrounds.
I already trusted light more than props.
I already found myself waiting for a child to stop performing instead of trying to make them smile.
I couldn't have explained any of those decisions then.
I simply knew they felt right.
What I didn't know...
...was everything that would happen after the shutter closed.
I didn't know those babies would become adults.
I didn't know some parents would return carrying years I hadn't witnessed.
I didn't know that time would quietly become part of every portrait I'd ever make.
Back then, I thought my job was to make beautiful portraits.
Now I think it was something much quieter.
To notice.
People have always fascinated me.
Their lives.
Their people.
The places they've come from.
What they've survived.
What makes them laugh.
What they're carrying that nobody else can see.
When someone walks into my studio, my first thought isn't about lighting.
Or lenses.
Or where the softbox should go.
It's much simpler than that.
Who are you?
Not who do you want me to photograph.
Who are you?
What makes you laugh?
What makes you retreat?
Where do your eyes land when you forget there's a camera in the room?
The world asks us to perform often enough.
The studio doesn't need to.
Children don't have to perform.
Teenagers don't have to pretend they're enjoying themselves.
Parents don't have to arrive with everything under control.
Dogs don't have to sit still.
The first part of my job has very little to do with cameras.
It's helping people feel safe enough to be themselves.
Only then do I make the portrait.
People often thank me after a session.
The truth is...
I'm usually the grateful one.
Someone has trusted me with a small piece of their life.
That has never felt ordinary.
People often ask me what I photograph.
The answer has never really changed.
People.
I don't think photography taught me to see people.
I think people taught me to see people.
Photography simply gave me somewhere to stand while I paid attention.
Perhaps that's why I still open those old folders.
Not to see how much better I've become.
But to thank the younger woman who was already noticing things she didn't yet have the words for.
JOHANNESBURG PORTRAIT PHOTOGRAPHER
One Moment. One Portrait. Forever
© 2005–2026 Bridget Corke Photography
Blairgowrie · Johannesburg · South Africa
International Master's in Portrait Photography
One of only two in Africa.