This work asks a great deal of trust — of the body, of the story, and of the camera. What follows is how I hold that trust. It is published openly, before you ever ask, because you deserve to know exactly what you are stepping into.
I am a somatic practitioner, an archetypal guide, and a portrait photographer. I am trauma-informed — trained so that trauma-related material can be met and worked with as it arises.
I am not a licensed therapist, counselor, or medical provider, and this work is not psychotherapy or medical treatment. It can be deeply therapeutic. It is not therapy. I do not diagnose, and I do not promise outcomes — transformation is real, but it is personal, and it cannot be guaranteed by anyone who is honest with you.
This is a firm line. Somatic sessions are private working space — no camera, ever. Photography happens in its own dedicated, prepared sessions, planned in advance, timed to what the work has revealed. You are never photographed in the middle of being undone.
Consent is not a form you sign once. You may pause, slow down, decline any practice or setup, stop a session, or ask that an image be deleted — at any point, for any reason, without explaining yourself.
Being open, tender, or emotional is not consent. The camera only enters where you have said it may.
You decide how your images may be used, and you may choose private — meaning they are never shown to anyone, ever, including prospective clients. If you allow any public use, you see the images first and may decline any of them. You may change your mind, in writing, at any time.
Sessions are never recorded by default. If you ever want a session recorded — for your own reference, or for behind-the-scenes work — that is a separate, entirely optional consent, and the two are chosen independently.
Some things require licensed clinical care, and when I see that, I will say so plainly and help you find the right support. Referring out well is not a failure of this work; it is part of it.
This work is best suited to those who are stable enough to explore. It is not crisis care. If you are in an acute period, that is not a failing — it simply means this may not be the right season, and I will point you toward what will serve you better.
If you are working with a therapist or another provider, that is a strength, not a complication. With your written consent, I am glad to be in contact with them, so that we are tending the same whole person rather than working blind to one another.
What you bring is held in confidence. The only limits are situations of serious risk of harm, or where the law requires otherwise — and I would tell you.
Where a small crew is ever involved in building a world for a shoot, every collaborator is bound by the same confidentiality, and you will know who is in the room before you arrive.
An image is not the only way a person can be exposed. A story can do it just as easily — the details, the timing, the town. So I hold your story the way I hold your photograph.
I do not write or speak about a client's process without permission. Where I do write about this work — and I do, because it is how I think — it is either with explicit consent, genuinely anonymized, or drawn as a composite: a figure assembled from patterns across many people, true to the pattern and belonging to no one.
A photograph cannot prove that you have changed. Nothing can. What it can do is witness — hold the memory of who you were when you were most yourself, so that you have somewhere to return to when the old stories try to tell you nothing happened.
I will not tell you the image is evidence. I will tell you it is a mirror, and an anchor, and a marker that a threshold was crossed. That is the honest claim, and it is enough.
If anything here raises a question, ask me. I would rather answer it now than have you wonder.