What Is a Portrait?

People confuse portraits with pictures of faces.

They see a clean background, soft light, a smile and they call it a portrait.

No.

That is a headshot, a functional image, a technical illustration of your appearance.

A portrait is something else entirely.

It is a dialogue, not a depiction.

A tension, not a pose.

A negotiation between who you think you are and who you actually are when nobody is left to impress.

The Portrait Was Born on Walls, Not on Screens

Long before cameras, portraits lived on walls:

oil, charcoal, fresco, gold leaf.

Families commissioned them not to flatter themselves, but to claim existence, to leave a trace, to say:

“We were here. We mattered. Remember us.”

Those portraits were not perfect.

They were intentional.

They immortalized presence, not prettiness.

Even kings allowed wrinkles, scars, heaviness, and humanity to stay.

Because a true portrait is proof.

Not fantasy.

Photography Made Portraits Democratic And We Ruined Them

The camera opened the door to everyone.

Suddenly, a portrait was no longer reserved for the wealthy.

Farmers, workers, soldiers, mothers ordinary people became visible.

It was revolutionary.

Photography gave dignity to those history ignored.

But then came the decline.

Retouching. Filters. Selfies.

Headshots pretending to be portraits.

People asking to “look better,” not “look real.”

In trying to democratize beauty, we accidentally democratized inauthenticity.

The Essence of a Portrait Today

The essence has not changed, the culture has.

A portrait still asks the same ancient question:

“Who are you when you stop performing?”

But now, very few people dare to answer it.

They want a version of themselves polished to social approval.

They want symmetry, softness, perfection, all things that destroy the integrity of the portrait.

A portrait is not a negotiation with vanity.

It is a confrontation with truth.

A Headshot Shows the Face. A Portrait Shows the Person.

This is the difference:

A headshot is a label. A portrait is a legacy.

A headshot serves a function. A portrait serves a soul.

A headshot is consumed. A portrait is kept.

A headshot is updated. A portrait is inherited.

A headshot looks like you. A portrait feels like you.

This is why the portrait must be printed.

Because printing is commitment.

A print says: “This moment matters.”

A screen says: “Scroll again tomorrow.”

Why I Photograph Portraits, Not Faces

Faces are everywhere, billions of them stored in clouds.

But portraits?

Almost none.

Because portraits require:

time, silence, vulnerability, coherence, dignity, and a photographer who knows the difference between taking and revealing.

I don’t chase beauty.

I chase presence.

The kind that stays on a wall for decades, not seconds.

A portrait is a future memory.

A headshot is a temporary convenience.

Final Reflection

A portrait is not what you look like.

It is what remains when you stop trying to look like anything.

It is the moment where the ego steps aside and the person, the real one, finally arrives.

That is what I photograph.

Not your face.

Your existence.