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Threats to the Indian male model don’t always come from the outside. There are clear and present dangers closer home. Models in Kolkata are a case in point. Derided for not being groomed enough, they are often left scavenging for the dregs their Delhi and Mumbai colleagues leave behind. Before he returned to Kolkata in 2012, fashion photographer Ipsito Das worked in Delhi for two years. “If asked to name competent male models in Kolkata, I can still only point to Nick Rampal. There’s a vacuum of talent here, and every time there’s a show or a fashion week in the city, that vacuum comes to be filled by models from Delhi and Mumbai.” So where do Kolkata’s models go? “There’s always Odisha.”
Das says he makes it a point to forward the portfolios he shoots to recruiters and other corporate clients. “It’s a tough crowd,” he admits. Sumukh Parasramka’s WhatsApp is flooded with such pictures and portfolios. Owner of Czarr Innovations, an advertising solutions provider, Parasramka says that grooming in the modelling industry boils down to just one thing — your relationship with the camera. “It’s sad but Kolkata’s models are usually not very camera-friendly. As a result of that, they really never get past that middle bracket. To have a lucrative modelling career, you have to be part of the cream, and the cream can include only 50 men. Let’s face it, those 50 do come from elsewhere.”
How fat is thin? Quite, depending on where you are.
The body positivity movement has made it de rigueur for any self-respecting ramp to be inclusive: to include a plus-size model as part of the show, or devote an entire show to plus-size. A fashion show by Prabal Gurung, the boy from this part of the world who has captivated the Western world, is also an exercise in diversity, of ethnicity, race, gender, body size and body type.
Yet in reality not much has changed. The tyranny of sizes remain. Despite all the political correctness, the mannequin remains the ideal shape for the woman in the fashion world — and outside. The mannequin has been internalised, literally, not only by women in the West, but also in India. The curves that Indian women are celebrated for are now often wished away.
Models here are sent back from shoots for being ‘fat’, which can mean just big-boned or curvy. An Indian woman with an average body, buying clothes off the shelf or online, split between the measurements of ‘XS’, ‘S’, ‘M’, ‘L’ or ‘XL’, often doesn’t know where to fit.
The image presaged no celebration: a child barely alive, a vulture so eager for carrion. Yet the photograph that epitomized Sudan’s famine would win Kevin Carter fame — and hopes for anchoring a career spent hounding the news, free- lancing in war zones, waiting anxiously for assignments amid dire finances, staying in the line of fire for that one great picture. On May 23, 14 months after capturing that memorable scene, Carter walked up to the dais in the classical rotunda of Columbia University’s Low Memorial Library and received the Pulitzer Prize for feature photography. The South African soaked up the attention. “I swear I got the most applause of anybody,” Carter wrote back to his parents in Johannesburg. “I can’t wait to show you the trophy. It is the most precious thing, and the highest acknowledgment of my work I could receive.”
Carter was feted at some of the most fashionable spots in New York City. Restaurant patrons, overhearing his claim to fame, would come up and ask for his autograph. Photo editors at the major magazines wanted to meet the new hotshot, dressed in his black jeans and T shirts, with the tribal bracelets and diamond-stud earring, with the war-weary eyes and tales from the front lines of Nelson Mandela’s new South Africa. Carter signed with Sygma, a prestigious picture agency representing 200 of the world’s best photojournalists. “It can be a very glamorous business,” says Sygma’s U.S. director, Eliane Laffont. “It’s very hard to make it, but Kevin is one of the few who really broke through. The pretty girls were falling for him, and everybody wanted to hear what he had to say.”
There would be little time for that. Two months after receiving his Pulitzer, Carter would be dead of carbon-monoxide poisoning in Johannesburg, a suicide at 33. His red pickup truck was parked near a small river where he used to play as a child; a green garden hose attached to the vehicle’s exhaust funneled the fumes inside. “I’m really, really sorry,” he explained in a note left on the passenger seat beneath a knapsack. “The pain of life overrides the joy to the point that joy does not exist.”
How could a man who had moved so many people with his work end up a suicide so soon after his great triumph? The brief obituaries that appeared around the world suggested a morality tale about a person undone by the curse of fame. The details, however, show how fame was only the final, dramatic sting of a death foretold by Carter’s personality, the pressure to be first where the action is, the fear that his pictures were never good enough, the existential lucidity that came to him from surviving violence again and again — and the drugs he used to banish that lucidity. If there is a paramount lesson to be drawn from Carter’s meteoric rise and fall, it is that tragedy does not always have heroic dimensions. “I have always had it all at my feet,” read the last words of his suicide note, “but being me just fit up anyway.”
First, there was history. Kevin Carter was born in 1960, the year Nelson Mandela’s African National Congress was outlawed. Descended from English immigrants, Carter was not part of the Afrikaner mainstream that ruled the country. Indeed, its ideology appalled him. Yet he was caught up in its historic misadventure.
His devoutly Roman Catholic parents, Jimmy and Roma, lived in Parkmore, a tree-lined Johannesburg suburb — and they accepted apartheid. Kevin, however, | like many of his generation, soon began to question it openly. “The police used to go around arresting black people for not carrying their passes,” his mother recalls. “They used to treat them very badly, and we felt unable to do anything about it. But Kevin got very angry about it. He used to have arguments with his father. ‘Why couldn’t we do something about it? Why didn’t we go shout at those police?’ ”
Though Carter insisted he loved his parents, he told his closest friends his childhood was unhappy. As a teenager, he found his thrills riding motorcycles and fantasized about becoming a race-car driver. After graduating from a Catholic boarding school in Pretoria in 1976, Carter studied pharmacy before dropping out with bad grades a year later. Without a student deferment, he was conscripted into the South African Defense Force, where he found upholding the apartheid regime loathsome. Once, after he took the side of a black mess-hall waiter, some Afrikaans-speaking soldiers called him a kaffir-boetie (“nigger lover”) and beat him up. In 1980 Carter went absent without leave, rode a motorcycle to Durban and, calling himself David, became a disk jockey. He longed to see his family but felt too ashamed to return. One day after he lost his job, he swallowed scores of sleeping pills, pain-killers and rat poison. He survived. He returned to the S.A.D.F. to finish his service and was injured in 1983 while on guard duty at air force headquarters in Pretoria. A bomb attributed to the A.N.C. had exploded, killing 19 people. After leaving the service, Carter got a job at a camera supply shop and drifted into journalism, first as a weekend sports photographer for the Johannesburg Sunday Express. When riots began sweeping the black townships in 1984, Carter moved to the Johannesburg Star and aligned himself with the crop of young, white photojournalists who wanted to expose the brutality of apartheid — a mission that had once been the almost exclusive calling of South Africa’s black photographers. “They put themselves in face of danger, were arrested numerous times, but never quit. They literally were willing to sacrifice themselves for what they believed in,” says American photojournalist James Nachtwey, who frequently worked with Carter and his friends. By 1990, civil war was raging between Mandela’s A.N.C. and the Zulu-supported Inkatha Freedom Party. For whites, it became potentially fatal to work the townships alone. To diminish the dangers, Carter hooked up with three friends — Ken Oosterbroek of the Star and free-lancers Greg Marinovich and Joao Silva — and they began moving through Soweto and Tokoza at dawn. If a murderous gang was going to shoot up a bus, throw someone off a train or cut up somebody on the street, it was most likely to happen as township dwellers began their journeys to work in the soft, shadowy light of an African morning. The four became so well known for capturing the violence that Living, a Johannesburg magazine, dubbed them “the Bang-Bang Club.”
Even with the teamwork, however, cruising the townships was often a perilous affair. Well-armed government security forces used excessive firepower. The chaotic hand-to-hand street fighting between black factions involved AK-47s, spears and axes. “At a funeral some mourners caught one guy, hacked him, shot him, ran over him with a car and set him on fire,” says Silva, describing a typical encounter. “My first photo showed this guy on the ground as the crowd told him they were going to kill him. We were lucky to get away.”
Sometimes it took more than a camera and camaraderie to get through the work. Marijuana, known locally as dagga, is widely available in South Africa. Carter and many other photojournalists smoked it habitually in the townships, partly to relieve tension and partly to bond with gun-toting street warriors. Although he denied it, Carter, like many hard-core dagga users, moved on to something more dangerous: smoking the “white pipe,” a mixture of dagga and Mandrax, a banned tranquilizer containing methaqualone. It provides an intense, immediate kick and then allows the user to mellow out for an hour or two.
By 1991, working on the dawn patrol had paid off for one of the Bang-Bang Club. Marinovich won a Pulitzer for his September 1990 photographs of a Zulu being stabbed to death by A.N.C. supporters. That prize raised the stakes for the rest of the club — especially Carter. And for Carter other comparisons cropped up. Though Oosterbroek was his best friend, they were, according to Nachtwey, “like the polarities of personality types. Ken was the successful photographer with the loving wife. His life was in order.” Carter had bounced from romance to romance, fathering a daughter out of wedlock. In 1993 Carter headed north of the border with Silva to photograph the rebel movement in famine-stricken Sudan. To make the trip, Carter had taken a leave from the Weekly Mail and borrowed money for the air fare. Immediately after their plane ) touched down in the village of Ayod, Carter began snapping photos of famine victims. Seeking relief from the sight of masses of people starving to death, he wandered into the open bush. He heard a soft, high-pitched whimpering and saw a tiny girl trying to make her way to the feeding center. As he crouched to photograph her, a vulture landed in view. Careful not to disturb the bird, he positioned himself for the best possible image. He would later say he waited about 20 minutes, hoping the vulture would spread its wings. It did not, and after he took his photographs, he chased the bird away and watched as the little girl resumed her struggle. Afterward he sat under a tree, lit a cigarette, talked to God and cried. “He was depressed afterward,” Silva recalls. “He kept saying he wanted to hug his daughter.”
After another day in Sudan, Carter returned to Johannesburg. Coincidentally, the New York Times, which was looking for pictures of Sudan, bought his photograph and ran it on March 26, 1993. The picture immediately became an icon of Africa’s anguish. Hundreds of people wrote and called the Times asking what had happened to the child (the paper reported that it was not known whether she reached the feeding center); and papers around the world reproduced the photo. Friends and colleagues complimented Carter on his feat. His self-confidence climbed.
Carter quit the Weekly Mail and became a free-lance photojournalist — an alluring but financially risky way of making a living, providing no job security, no health insurance and no death benefits. He eventually signed up with the Reuter news agency for a guarantee of roughly $2,000 a month and began to lay plans for covering his country’s first multiracial elections in April. The next few weeks, however, would bring depression and self-doubt, only momentarily interrupted by triumph.
The troubles started on March 11. Carter was covering the unsuccessful invasion of Bophuthatswana by white right-wing vigilantes intent on propping up a black homeland, a showcase of apartheid. Carter found himself just feet away from the summary execution of right-wingers by a black “Bop” policeman. “Lying in the middle of the gunfight,” he said, “I was wondering about which millisecond next I was going to die, about putting something on film they could use as my last picture.”
His pictures would eventually be splashed across front pages around the world, but he came away from the scene in a funk. First, there was the horror of having witnessed murder. Perhaps as importantly, while a few colleagues had framed the scene perfectly, Carter was reloading his camera with film just as the executions took place. “I knew I had missed this f—— shot,” he said subsequently. “I drank a bottle of bourbon that night.”
At the same time, he seemed to be stepping up his drug habit, including smoking the white pipe. A week after the Bop executions, he was seen staggering around while on assignment at a Mandela rally in Johannesburg. Later he crashed his car into a suburban house and was thrown in jail for 10 hours on suspicion of drunken driving. His superior at Reuter was furious at having to go to the police station to recover Carter’s film of the Mandela event. Carter’s girlfriend, Kathy Davidson, a schoolteacher, was even more upset. Drugs had become a growing issue in their one-year relationship. Over Easter, she asked Carter to move out until he cleaned up his life.
With only weeks to go before the elections, Carter’s job at Reuter was shaky, his love life was in jeopardy and he was scrambling to find a new place to live. And then, on April 12, 1994, the New York Times phoned to tell him he had won the Pulitzer. As jubilant Times foreign picture editor Nancy Buirski gave him the news, Carter found himself rambling on about his personal problems. “Kevin!” she interrupted, “You’ve just won a Pulitzer! These things aren’t going to be that important now.”
Early on Monday, April 18, the Bang-Bang Club headed out to Tokoza township, 10 miles from downtown Johannesburg, to cover an outbreak of violence. Shortly before noon, with the sun too bright for taking good pictures, Carter returned to the city. Then on the radio he heard that his best friend, Oosterbroek, had been killed in Tokoza. Marinovich had been gravely wounded. Oosterbroek’s death devastated Carter, and he returned to work in Tokoza the next day, even though the violence had escalated. He later told friends that he and not Ken “should have taken the bullet.”
New York was a respite. By all accounts, Carter made the most of his first visit to Manhattan. The Times flew him in and put him up at the Marriott Marquis just off Times Square. His spirits soaring, he took to calling New York “my town.”
With the Pulitzer, however, he had to deal not only with acclaim but also with the critical focus that comes with fame. Some journalists in South Africa called his prize a “fluke,” alleging that he had somehow set up the tableau. Others questioned his ethics. “The man adjusting his lens to take just the right frame of her suffering,” said the St. Petersburg (Florida) Times, “might just as well be a predator, another vulture on the scene.” Even some of Carter’s friends wondered aloud why he had not helped the girl.
Carter was painfully aware of the photojournalist’s dilemma. “I had to think visually,” he said once, describing a shoot-out. “I am zooming in on a tight shot of the dead guy and a splash of red. Going into his khaki uniform in a pool of blood in the sand. The dead man’s face is slightly gray. You are making a visual here. But inside something is screaming, ‘My God.’ But it is time to work. Deal with the rest later. If you can’t do it, get out of the game.” Says Nachtwey, “Every photographer who has been involved in these stories has been affected. You become changed forever. Nobody does this kind of work to make themselves feel good. It is very hard to continue.”
Carter did not look forward to going home. Summer was just beginning in New York, but late June was still winter in South Africa, and Carter became depressed almost as soon as he got off the plane. “Joburg is dry and brown and cold and dead, and so damn full of bad memories and absent friends,” he wrote in a letter never mailed to a friend, Esquire picture editor Marianne Butler in New York.
Nevertheless, Carter carefully listed story ideas and faxed some of them off to Sygma. Work did not proceed smoothly. Though it was not his fault, Carter felt guilty when a bureaucratic foul-up caused the cancellation of an interview by a writer from Parade magazine, a Sygma client, with Mandela in Cape Town. Then came an even more unpleasant experience. Sygma told Carter to stay in Cape Town and cover French President Francois Mitterrand’s state visit to South Africa. The story was spot news, but according to editors at Sygma’s Paris office, Carter shipped his film too late to be of use. In any case, they complained, the quality of the photos was too poor to offer to Sygma’s clients.
According to friends, Carter began talking openly about suicide. Part of his anxiety was over the Mitterrand assignment. But mostly he seemed worried about money and making ends meet. When an assignment in Mozambique for TIME came his way, he eagerly accepted. Despite setting three alarm clocks to make his early-morning flight on July 20, he missed the plane. Furthermore, after six | days in Mozambique, he walked off his return flight to Johannesburg, leaving a package of undeveloped film on his seat. He realized his mistake when he arrived at a friend’s house. He raced back to the airport but failed to turn up anything. Carter was distraught and returned to the friend’s house in the morning, threatening to smoke a white pipe and gas himself to death.
Carter and a friend, Judith Matloff, 36, an American correspondent for Reuter, dined on Mozambican prawns he had brought back. He was apparently too ashamed to tell her about the lost film. Instead they discussed their futures. Carter proposed forming a writer-photographer free-lance team and traveling Africa together.
On the morning of Wednesday, July 27, the last day of his life, Carter appeared cheerful. He remained in bed until nearly noon and then went to drop off a picture that had been requested by the Weekly Mail. In the paper’s newsroom, he poured out his anguish to former colleagues, one of whom gave him the number of a therapist and urged him to phone her.
The last person to see Carter alive, it seems, was Oosterbroek’s widow, Monica. As night fell, Carter turned up unannounced at her home to vent his troubles. Still recovering from her husband’s death three months earlier, she was in little condition to offer counsel. They parted at about 5:30 p.m.
The Braamfonteinspruit is a small river that cuts southward through Johannesburg’s northern suburbs — and through Parkmore, where the Carters once lived. At around 9 p.m., Kevin Carter backed his red Nissan pickup truck against a blue gum tree at the Field and Study Center. He had played there often as a little boy. The Sandton Bird Club was having its monthly meeting there, but nobody saw Carter as he used silver gaffer tape to attach a garden hose to the exhaust pipe and run it to the passenger-side window. Wearing unwashed Lee jeans and an Esquire T shirt, he got in and switched on the engine. Then he put music on his Walkman and lay over on his side, using the knapsack as a pillow.
The suicide note he left behind is a litany of nightmares and dark visions, a clutching attempt at autobiography, self-analysis, explanation, excuse. After coming home from New York, he wrote, he was “depressed . . . without phone . . . money for rent . . . money for child support . . . money for debts . . . money!!! . . . I am haunted by the vivid memories of killings & corpses & anger & pain . . . of starving or wounded children, of trigger-happy madmen, often police, of killer executioners . . . ” And then this: “I have gone to join Ken if I am that lucky.
Whether you’ve invested in a lower end DSLR or went all out for a top model, the need to keep your camera maintained is imperative to quality photos and the lifelong care of your camera. It’s a shame when people invest money in something and then don’t take good care of it. What I’ve found though, is that one of the main reasons for this is that most people simply don’t know how to, so they delay and delay until it’s almost too late. Doing the research and starting good habits from the day you purchase your camera will ensure your investment is long lasting. These 7 tips will clear the air for you.
Just like medical preventative maintenance keeps you healthy, the same tactic with your DSLR will contribute to keeping it healthy. Knowing what actions to take to avoid problems down the road is the biggest gift you can give your camera. It works hard to deliver fabulous photos to you, so return that kindness with the TLC it deserves. The next several tips are both preventative and in the field related.
Tip #1: Humidity
Due to all the vacation photos, beaches are one of the top photographed places. But, they’re also one of the worst places for your camera’s “health” since humidity is your camera’s number one enemy. It greatly influences the imaging sensor of your SLR, and that’s the one piece of a camera that raises concern among photographers. Hence, it is important to keep your camera dry and away from extreme weather conditions when possible. If you are in a cold weather environment, which let’s face it, many of us are, avoid bringing your camera in from the cold to a warm room. The resulting condensation will wreak havoc on your imaging sensor, and that’s something that can be avoided with common sense. To prevent any problems, put your camera in a protective, padded bag or case.
Tip #2: Cleaning
In order to effectively clean your equipment, use a soft cloth, such as a microfiber one, and wipe down the exterior to take off dust and other particles that could also creep inside the camera body.
Use a cleaning brush to clean the all-important imaging sensor. You can look online or in a local photography shop for imaging sensor-cleaning tools. Use them to remove dirt and dust from the lens system of the DSLR in order to avoid lens motor failure (always a scary thought). If you’re afraid to take this task on yourself, and if you still have the benefit of a warranty, take it down to your service center for proper maintenance.
Tip #3: Caps and Hoods
There’s a reason your camera comes with a lens cap…to protect the lens. Some photographers are religious about putting their cap on when the camera is not in use, while other count on their lens filters to protect the lens rather than putting the cap on and off repeatedly throughout the day. If you’re indoors doing a portrait shoot, then you probably don’t need to use the cap every time you put the camera down.
However, if you’re out shooting landscape and are switching cameras, only to put the first one down, you’ll probably want to protect it against the elements by putting the cap back on. I hate to hear stories where the photographer put their camera down on a rock and it slid off, causing damage to the lens that a cap would have taken the brunt of. It takes second and can save hundreds of dollars!
Lens hoods are another safety feature. Though they’re meant to block sun glare, they have the added bonus of protecting the edge of your lens.
Tip #4: Storing Your Camera
Leaving your camera, even if in a bag, in the trunk of your car in the heat is not a good idea. The same goes for leaving it in below freezing temps. These extreme temperatures are not your camera’s friend. Though it can withstand varying conditions out in the field with the proper protection, leaving it sitting in these temps for long periods of times will only damage it in the long run. Be conscious of where you leave your camera when you’re not using it.
Tip #5: Rain, Rain, Go Away!
Whether at the beach or out in the rain, you should always be careful around water. A drizzling rain won’t kill your equipment, but common sense suggests that you don’t take off a lens or open the memory card door when you’re out in the rain. If the weatherman calls for heavy rain, use something to cover the body of the camera (freezer Ziploc bags work well). It’s the electronics that you need to watch out for; your lens, on the other hand, can take a few drops. Keep that dry microfiber cloth on hand.
Tip #6: Spots on your Shots
If you notice dark spots or splotches on your images, it’s a good sign that your camera needs a cleaning. Using a sensor loupe will help to identify the spotty areas on your lens or sensor. An airbrush and brush will blow and wipe away dust, if that’s the culprit. For smudges, use the above mentioned microfiber cloth. Take some new photos and see if that did the trick. If not, consider sending your camera out for a professional cleaning.
Remember the preventative maintenance rules and use a light touch common sense when doing any maintenance. That said, always send your camera out if you’re uncomfortable with any of the cleaning or maintenance. It’s worth the time and money spent to send it out rather than the risk of damaging it.
Photography is definitely a talent that you should either work hard to obtain, or you merely have it at your fingertips. However, you should learn how to use effective techniques and ideas that enhance the pictures. On one hand, some photographers largely rely on photoshop and external enhancement; on the other hand, some other photographers rely on what nature offers them and make it handy, so they can use it and enhance their work with effortlessly. Sunlight is one of the primary factors that affect the shots. We will not be exaggerating if we state that it can be, in some cases, the catalyst behind the appeal of some of these shots. Using sunlight to your advantage is one skill that should be appreciated.
For over 10 years, Etienne Bossot has been practising photography at various occasions: weddings, travels and commercials. Not only does she hits different spots in South Asia to snap great moments that may have found their place in many photoshoot records but she teaches photography skills as well. In an article on Fstoppers, she gives out some tips on sunrise and sunset photography. One technique she frequently uses in the side light technique which enables her to place one object in the light, which consequently, renders the object of the opposite side covered in shadows.
Let’s start off with the title bestowed to him by others, “The Godfather of Photography.” Apparently, Sammon’s career kicked off as an underwater photographer and it blossomed to a few underwater books and scuba diving training expeditions. Then, Sammon would go further to a point at which his career has fully thrived; he somehow shifted to landscape photography. Sammon would pack his bags with one thing in his mind; travel and wildlife, which consequently would lead to excelling at sunrise and sunset photography. On his own blog, Sammon offers some advice to amateurs and aspiring young photographers on how to get the perfect shot.
Tip number 1 reads, “Get a Good Guide. My guides, Andy and Mia Beales, chose the location and time of day (predawn) for a picture-perfect scene.” Tip 1 is somehow preconceived by all photographers, but it also shows that he never discredits his guides. Then, the list of his efficient tips goes on till we reach this point that reads, “Include Reflections – When you have a good reflection, include it in the scene. Had I cut off the top of the foreground fisherman’s head reflected in the water, the picture would look as though it was missing something.” Such a point would be essential to sunset and sunrise photography and how to deploy the shadows and the reflection so they can become in handy.
Mandy DiBenedetto has always had photography as a hobby of hers that she loves dearly, but she tended to go the extra mile and holds onto photography as a full-time job. All she aspires is to capture precious moments and off the cuff shots. Similarly, Alison Senesac decided to have photography as a full-time job after she had practised it as a hobby. Three Loves Photography has one purpose before their eyes which is creating candid and spontaneous shots that carry the genuine feeling that had witnessed.
From Italy with love, Sunrise Fotografi is basically located in Santa Maria Capua Vetere. Through their all-in-Italian website, you can view the pictures they have captured on various occasions, ranging from wedding pictures to Christmas pictures, where the sun would cast its rays on the landscape.
C.H.I.T Photography was basically established in 2012 in South Korea. C.H.I.T Photography is mainly specialized in wedding and engagement pictures, that’s why sunlight and shadows are quite essential as they add the velvet touch on the picture like the team would cast a spell.
ShutterInk has the ability to view your moment, capture it and write the intriguing story you want to tell with glitter and bright cardboard. Like most of the photographers on the list, ShutterInk is basically wedding photographers whose sole purpose is to make your wedding pictures stand the test of time, but of course, they cannot let go of the sunrise or the sunset that they can deploy in order to cast that spell of orange, yellow and brown mixed in the background.
The family-owned Photography studio was established in New York, Pat and Ken Gordon seized the moment they pursued rather than chanced upon. Their hard worked has resulted in blood,m sweat and tears. Throughout around 34 years, Patken Photography has been around thousands of wedding where they used various tools and techniques, including sunlight and shadows so that they can offer the best quality they can give. Patken Photography team has had the talent, education and hard work within them, which is an equation that not many photography teams have excelled at.
Located in New York, Helene Power Photography finds its muse in pictures captured of new-borns. Sunlight is not an option that Helen Power would not exploit; it expressly showcases her talent. Her shoots are taken amid off the cuff moves and circumstances. You may find her pictures beaming with one statement, “Beauty lies in simplicity.”
Apparently, we can give all the due thanks to Helene’s husband since he was the one who has gifted her with a camera on her 30th birthday. The fact that she received that gift after over a quarter of a century raises another slogan that says, “It’s never too late”.
If Belly Beautiful Portraits photographer is not binging on her jam, 70s and 80s music or recreating recipes, she is probably out there holding her camera and taking snaps of new-borns with all-pink background due to her girly tendencies. Besides all the accessories she embellishes her shots with, her photographic and artistic tendencies never cease to grace her work of art with the technique of using sunlight. Sunlight, when added to the pictures she captures, gives a sense of warmth and serenity.
Like most of the photographers listed here, Jen Pan Photography is specialized in maternity as well as new-born shoots. Jen Pan’s style is a bit old-fashioned as she shoots in Analogue film and digitals. Being a parent herself, Jen takes in the steps that a devoted would take while having photoshoots of her kids; her work of art is off the cuff, genuine and candid. She believes that unstaged moments an poses are more expressive, and they speak of their true nature when captured.