There’s something deeply unsettling about being told to smile for a photo.
That stiff, awkward grin that creeps across your face when someone points a lens at you and chirps, “Say cheese!” It’s like a switch flips, and suddenly your mouth is doing one thing while the rest of your face panics, wondering what on earth is happening.
Your eyes betray you. Your shoulders tense. You’re no longer you. You’re a version of yourself performing “being happy” for the benefit of the camera.
I can’t stand it. Which is why I’ll never tell you to smile.
I’ve spent enough time behind the camera to know when someone’s smile is real and when it’s a mask. The difference is enormous.
A forced smile looks like a painting of a smile. Flat, hollow, too perfect, too clean.
But a genuine smile, the sort that sneaks up on you when you’re not thinking about it, that’s gold. It lights up your whole face. It pulls your posture into something more natural. It feels alive.
That’s what I want to photograph. Not the version of you that performs for strangers, but the one that forgets about the camera entirely.
When you take a portrait of someone, you’re capturing a moment of truth. That’s the whole point. So why would I want to ruin that by demanding you pretend to be happy?
Maybe you’re not happy that day. Maybe you’re nervous or tired or lost in thought. That’s fine. In fact, that’s beautiful.
Real faces are infinitely more interesting than fake ones. The tiny lines, the tension, the softness around the eyes when someone’s thinking of something important. That’s where the story is.
During a portrait session, I’ll talk to you, not instruct you. I’ll ask questions. I’ll make you laugh, but not in a “perform for me” way. More in a “we’re two humans in this strange little moment together” way.
Sometimes, people forget they’re being photographed entirely. They drop their guard for just a second, and that’s when the magic happens.
The real you peeks through, raw and unfiltered. It might not be perfect, but it’s honest, and honesty always looks good in photographs.
I once photographed a business owner who swore she hated having her photo taken. She told me she always looked stiff and unnatural in pictures. She was right, at first.
Every time I lifted the camera, she froze. So we ditched the camera for a bit and just talked. We walked around her workshop. She started showing me her work, explaining how she made things by hand, why she loved it, and the smell of the materials. Her whole face changed when she spoke about her craft.
That was the moment. I lifted the camera again, quietly, without asking her to pose. And there it was. Not a smile, exactly, but something far better. Pride. Joy. Passion. The kind that seeps out through your skin when you’re lost in something you care about.
That’s what I’m chasing.
Telling someone to smile for the camera is lazy. It’s a shortcut that misses the point of photography. It assumes happiness is the only emotion worth capturing. But life isn’t one long smile.
Sometimes the most powerful portraits are the quiet ones, the serious ones, the ones where the subject looks like they’re thinking about something they’ll never say out loud. There’s honesty in that kind of stillness.
Children are brilliant at this. They don’t fake it. You can tell immediately when a child’s being told to “smile nicely.” Their faces twist into something alien. But when they’re curious, when they’re laughing because they actually find something funny, that’s when you see who they are.
I’ll take a photo of a muddy, giggling child over a stiff “school photo smile” any day.
Even in brand photography, where businesses often want to appear approachable and friendly, authenticity still wins. Clients think they want everyone grinning at the camera, but what they really want is connection.
A smile that feels earned, not instructed. A moment that feels alive. You can’t fake that. You can’t pose for it. You have to find it, wait for it, create the conditions for it to appear naturally.
So no, I won’t tell you to smile. I won’t tell you to tilt your chin or lift your shoulders or open your eyes wider. I’ll talk to you instead. I’ll help you forget about the camera until you stop performing and start just existing. That’s when I’ll click the shutter.
You might look at the photo later and think, “I wasn’t even smiling.” But you’ll also think, “That’s me.” That’s the whole point. The camera should tell the truth, not sell a performance.
If you’re tired of the fake smiles, the awkward poses, and the endless pretending, let’s make something real. Let’s capture who you are when you’re not trying so hard to be perfect.
Get in touch, and let’s create portraits that feel alive.
