From Cover Stories to Conversations That Matter

At one point in my career, I found myself shooting cover stories for Blogosphere magazine—nine in total. On paper, it was everything I’d worked for. The shoots were beautifully lit, carefully styled, full of energy. I was working with some of the most visible and influential content creators in the UK, and I loved the buzz of it all—the locations, the styling, the pressure to get “the shot.” It felt fast, fun, and creative. I got to shape visual stories that lived across social media and magazine stands. There was a rhythm to it. A glamour.

But even then, something was gnawing at me—quietly, at first.

Between the hustle of production and the pace of post-shoot edits, I started to realise how little actual dialogue was taking place. The shoots were collaborative, yes—but they were also brief, curated, transactional. I missed something more open-ended. I missed conversations with depth and surprise. I missed those moments when someone would say something, hesitate, and then say something more true. Photography had given me a powerful way to frame people—but I started to feel more interested in what happens outside the frame.

I didn’t return to teaching. Instead, I pivoted. I moved into a different kind of work, where communication sits at the heart of everything. Where the goal isn’t to create the perfect visual, but to help someone express something difficult, to build confidence, to break down a barrier. The work I do now is about people as they are—not how they appear. And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m actually in conversation again.

Don’t get me wrong—I still love photography. The eye, the light, the moments of magic that happen when everything lines up. But the work I do now lets me be part of something more continuous. Less performative, more process-based. Less surface, more substance. Instead of chasing the next shoot, I find myself thinking more about the next breakthrough—when someone understands something new, takes a risk, or finds their voice in a way they couldn’t before.

It turns out, I was never just interested in taking pictures of people. I was always drawn to what was going on beneath the surface. And while I didn’t have the language for it at the time, I think I’ve always been looking for the story behind the image—the tension, the truth, the vulnerability.

So no, I didn’t go back to teaching. But I did find my way back to something more real. More human. More honest.

And in that sense, I’ve never felt more aligned with the work I’m doing.