How to Photograph People
What is true of nature and landscape photography is equally true of People Photography. How do you capture a human being in their "best light?"

If we have known someone for a while, we are aware of their inspiring qualities. And if we are just meeting someone and are inwardly calm and receptive, we can usually tune in to their shining qualities relatively quickly if we know how to draw out those qualities. Or we can simply wait for the person to expresstheir best qualities naturally.

For example, if I am photographing a speaker, I watch them for a time, and tune in to their rhythm. I then wait for peak moments in their speech. When they reach a point of inspiration, I begin to shoot.

When someone comes for a studio session, I talk with them, get to know them, and try to help them feel relaxed, comfortable, and receptive. As a photographer, I can help people to reveal more of the Divine qualities that I see in them. These qualities surface naturally when I am centered myself, revealing the person's true character in their facial expressions and gestures. Then I can capture them in their "best light."

Photographing from Intuition
When you reach a point where the technical aspects come second nature, you are free to photograph intuitively. Last fall I was taking nature pictures on the eastern slopes of the Sierra Nevada. For a week the weather was clear, with beautiful autumn sunshine. But on the last night, big, black clouds began to loom on the horizon, and I booked a motel room. The storm came quickly, and with it the first snow of the season.

I lay on my soft bed under warm covers in the pre-dawn darkness, debating whether to get up and go shoot or stay there, happy and warm. An inner voice suggested I get up. But I decided to stay in bed, and a breif argument ensued.

Finally, the small inner voice gave way to a loud inner calling, so I got up, meditated, and drove 10 miles to a spot I had scouted the day before. The light of the sun hit the horizon, revealing a thick layer of clouds from the last night's storm. The clouds blocked the morning light and seemed to have no intent to move on.

I still had no idea why a strong inner feeling had brought me here. But the feeling grew even stronger, urging me to the crest of a ridge. Up I stumbled, carrying two full camera bags and a heavy tripod usually reserved for studio shooting. I reached the top, set up the tripod, positioned the camera, checked the exposure settings, and waited. In the cold, windy morning I began to question my intuition. What in the world was I doing up here, freezing, when I could be warm in bed?

Then suddenly the clouds gave way for about 15 seconds. The first rays of the sun cast a deep blood-red on the new snow, unlike anytthing I had ever experienced. Before I could fine-tune my composition and reset the exposure, the red had become a soft pink with muted purples. I shot one exposure before the magnificent light disappeared and the clouds moved back in. The Divine had shared with me a very precious moment. She had bathed me in Her special beauty, and I had been receptive to Her blessings. To this day that photograph remains one of my favorites.

And this is why I photograph. It's not the picture or the product that is important, it is the experience. The process itself holds the greatest value, for it serves as a reminder of our true purpose in living--to love God. For in the end, the ultimate challenge of photography lies not in the equipment, the techniques, or in the subject matter. It lies in the photographer, who captures and conveys, receives and gives insoiration, and who serves as a channel of truth and beauty—an willing instrument of the Divine.

— Galen Rowell, Mountain Light: In Search of the Dynamic Landscape, Sierra Club Books, 1987