I’ve spent years on both sides of the camera. As a musician, I know what it feels like to stand in front of the lens, feeling hopeful about — or sometimes dreading — how I will look on the screen. Now, as a photographer, I see musicians doing the same thing: bracing for impact, as if the click of the shutter might expose something they’re not ready to confront. Thankfully, that impact never comes. Instead, there’s just space to be held: the quiet, undeniable truth of being seen.
What I’ve learned is that most people don’t trust their perception of themselves; they don’t believe in their own instincts and feel limited in their vision. Many are carrying years of criticism, weighed down by what teachers have said about how they should look or present themselves to fit in. They show up to a photo shoot wanting direction, wanting someone else to tell them who they’re supposed to be. But here’s the truth: the best images happen when you let go of trying to control the process and allow yourself to be seen the way others already see you.
For musicians and many other creative professionals, your image is your currency. A photo has the ability to influence the timbre of your career before you even play a note. It’s all about owning your space, making choices that align with who you are, and trusting that your audience will meet you there. It’s also a chance to stand up proudly dressed in your own self-image, setting a different example for the next generation of artists.
Recently, I worked with a violinist who felt a bit uncertain about how she wanted to come across in her photos. She often performed the most demanding concerti filled with drama and electricity, but felt it was difficult to translate that into a visual aesthetic that didn’t feel forced. We started talking about the music itself – getting wrapped up in the evocative sweeping lines, the sudden shifts in energy, and the rapid emotional undercurrents.
Our conversation was almost like being in a rehearsal and brainstorming how to shape a phrase. We ended up experimenting with increasingly bold color palettes, dramatic lighting, and a bit of movement that captured the intensity of her repertoire. Leaning into how she felt when she performed those pieces, rather than focusing on what she thought she was “supposed” to look like, gave her images that felt undeniably authentic and matched the passion she pours into her performances.
I started thinking about image long before I picked up a camera. As a Black woman in classical music, I realized early on that how I presented myself mattered. People see you before they hear you, and they often project their own thoughts and expectations onto you. No matter how carefully you curate your photos or how polished your website is, you can’t completely control how people interpret your image. You can’t dictate the stories others tell about you, but there are things you can influence, like giving people better material to work with.
I like to think of it as feeding the narrative. Every digital asset – including photos, bios, and social posts – is an ingredient. If you feed the narrative thoughtfully, it will grow stronger, clearer, and more aligned with who you are. That clarity doesn’t just help others understand your artistry; it helps you understand it, too. This takes intention and a solid grasp of why you continue to choose your career, day in and day out. It goes beyond simply having a press kit; it’s about creating a presence that feels true to your values and your identity.
How to Find the Right Photographer
A good photographer doesn’t merely click a button. They see you, listen to you, and create an environment where exploration is treasured, especially in an industry where a focus on “appropriateness” often leaves little space for innovation. Personally, I try to expand the ways musicians see themselves: you don’t have to be a “natural” to do a session that embraces aesthetics and style. I believe my job as a photographer is to see the innate beauty in you and bring it forward using the techniques I’ve developed. More than anything, trust is essential.
When searching for a photographer, look at their portfolio: Do they document all skin colors well? Do they photograph people who match your energy? Do their images evoke a feeling? If all their work looks identical, they might not be the one to bring out your individuality.
Once you’ve identified someone whose work speaks to you, schedule a conversation with them: If you don’t feel comfortable talking with them, you likely won’t feel comfortable in front of their camera. Ask about their process: Do they prefer to collaborate or call the shots? Do they want to understand you, or just “get the picture”? Think of it as a relationship. You would not go into a chamber music rehearsal expecting one person to run the entire session, and it’s the same with a photo shoot.
I’ve found that it’s rare for a client to come to me with a fully formed concept in mind. More often, they have a mood for their album, a favorite scene from pop culture that lives rent-free in their head, or just a feeling they want to capture. My job is to help bring that vision to life.
For example, a composer once told me they were drawn to the visual world of film director Wong Kar-wai – the rich colors, the sense of longing, the surrealist dreamlike atmosphere – so that became our jumping-off point. We played with saturated lighting, in camera-effects, and haze alongside a set I built that evoked the cinematic stillness of Wong’s 2000 film, In the Mood for Love. The photoshoot was a playground for creativity, and the final images captured the composer’s unique artistic sensibility through that lens.
This kind of connection is something you can bring to your photographer, using it as a creative foundation. It’s also completely normal to share personal hesitations, like: “I’m usually uncomfortable in front of the camera,” “I don’t have any good clothes,” or even, “My last photographer did me dirty, and I didn’t like how I looked. Can you help??”
These conversations foster trust and give your photographer the flexibility to shape the experience in a way that makes you feel comfortable. A photoshoot isn’t just about getting a great picture — it’s about capturing a version of you that feels authentic. And creativity thrives on vulnerability and connection.
Conceptualizing a Shoot
Many musicians have no idea what they want from a photo shoot because we were never trained to think visually. That’s totally fine! A few foundational questions can help:
- What is my “why”?
- What feeling do I want people to have when they see this photo?
- What story am I telling?
- How do I want to be seen?
Your shoot doesn’t have to be elaborate. Unless it fits your vision, you don’t need props or costumes. Try to focus on intentionality and how you can link various aspects of your “why” to the image. If you’re making an album, think about the music and how it translates visually.
If you find yourself on empty searching for visual inspiration that fits your personal aesthetic, try deconstructing an existing photo that you like. This is an important exercise that helps identify what elements resonate with you in different images. Is it the outfit, the color, the framing, the pose? It could be a simple photo in terms of background, but perhaps the strong facial expression draws you in. Much like a Rothko painting, color can have a powerful effect on the viewer, with reds seeming to pulse with energy and blues providing depth.
By highlighting these different components, you can pinpoint what inspires you. And at this stage, it’s essential to remember that a picture, much like a performance, captures you in a particular moment in time. Just as no two performances are ever identical, your visual identity will evolve, but the intentionality behind it is what makes it meaningful.
If you’re having photos done after many years, celebrate what’s changed in your artistry rather than focusing on how long it took you to get here. A photographer’s job is to translate and enhance, but we cannot invent from a place of negativity. Arrive prepared, but remain flexible. The best images often happen in the space where planning meets spontaneity.
The Vulnerability and Power of Being Seen
The ability to express yourself clearly is not one to take for granted. Vulnerability is a crucial ingredient, whether showing up authentically online, on stage, or IRL. We get scared that every post, every reel, and every note may be open to critique. Even with this level of scrutiny, you can shape your narrative and nourish it with honest material. Visual representation isn’t about finding a single image that does it all. A great shot today may not capture who you are five years down the line, and that’s perfectly normal. We are ever-evolving as artists, and so our images should evolve, too.
Ideally, there is a moment that happens in every shoot where the guard drops. It’s a small shift: a dash of candor in the eyes, the fullness after a deep breath, a beautiful angle following a small release in your shoulders. That’s what I’m looking for. So many of us musicians have spent years agonizing over how we want to be perceived, but in that unguarded moment, when you stop orchestrating every detail, something changes. You stop worrying about whether your hair is perfectly coiffed or if your expression is too stern or too sweet or too you. You simply exist.
I can promise you that is the image that resonates because it feels the most like you. A great photograph doesn’t just capture you; it gives you a chance to see yourself with fresh and forgiving eyes. You’re not only purchasing a set of photos, but gaining confidence that your humanity doesn’t need anyone else’s approval. So often, it’s like we’ve spent our lives practicing to live up to someone else’s standard, then nobody teaches us how to be ourselves again. The real measure of a successful shoot is not whether the photo looks impressive, but whether the person in it recognizes themselves. If I’ve done my job, they’ll leave starting to know there was never any reason to hide — and that the things they were bracing against weren’t so scary after all.
This article is part of ACF’s digital media expansion to empower artists, made possible by funding from the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation. Learn more at kf.org and follow @knightfdn on social media.
I CARE IF YOU LISTEN is an editorially-independent program of the American Composers Forum, and is made possible thanks to generous donor and institutional support. Opinions expressed are solely those of the author and may not represent the views of ICIYL or ACF.
You can support the work of ICIYL with a tax-deductible gift to ACF. For more on ACF, visit composersforum.org.
