My boy. My photographs. Our years together.
Of all the people I have photographed over the years, there is one who has been in front of my camera more than most.
My son, Sebastian. Bas to those who know him.
He was little when I began building my portrait photography business. And somewhere between raising him, running a studio and photographing other people's families, I kept making portraits of us.
Sometimes he was small enough to fit into my arms.
Sometimes he was cooperative.
Sometimes decidedly less so.
And somewhere along the way, the boy I once persuaded to stand in front of my camera became the young man asking for another shoot.
I have watched this boy grow through my lens.
The little face changed.
The arms grew longer.
The child became a teenager, and the teenager became a man.
The photographs changed too.
There are the early years, when he fitted so easily against me.
The years when I could still pull him close without negotiation.
And the later portraits, when the young man beside me began to look increasingly like an adult.
But when I look at these photographs, I don't see only the changes in him.
I see the years of my own life passing alongside his.
We were both growing older.
I just hadn't noticed quite how quickly.
As a photographer, I have always believed that mothers belong in photographs with their children.
Not only behind the camera. Not only taking the pictures. But in them.
And I have tried to practise what I preach.
These portraits are not about how I looked at a particular age, what I was wearing or whether everything in our lives was going according to plan.
They are about being there.
Being his mother.
Holding him when he was small.
Standing beside him as he grew.
And continuing to make photographs together, even when he was quite capable of having other ideas.
Because one day, these photographs will belong to him.
Bas is grown now, with a life and a career of his own.
There is something extraordinary about watching the child you once carried make his way into the world.
You spend years teaching them to become independent, and then discover that the relationship doesn't disappear. It simply finds another way of being.
But motherhood doesn't end when childhood does.
The relationship changes.
The conversations change.
The hugs change.
And these days, the invitation sometimes comes from him.
He will always be my boy.
Looking at these photographs together, I am reminded why I have spent so much of my life making portraits.
Not because photographs can stop time.
They can't.
But because they give us something to hold when time has moved on.
These are photographs of my son and me, made across the years.
They hold a childhood, a motherhood and a relationship that continues to change.
And of all the photographs I have made, these are among the ones I treasure most.
You don't have to wait for your children to be grown before realising how quickly the years pass.
Get into the photographs with them.
One day, they'll be glad you did.
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.