Why I Don’t Offer One-Hour Sessions

— and why two hours is just the beginning of something real

There’s a rhythm to photography that has very little to do with shutter speed.

It’s not about ticking boxes or rushing through a checklist of poses. It’s not about squeezing magic into 45 tight minutes between lunch and dinner. It’s about allowing space. Breathing room. Time for the shoulders to drop. For the glances to soften. For something real to unfold.

That’s why I don’t offer one-hour packages.

It’s not because I want to sell you more. It’s because I want to give you better.

When people first reach out, they sometimes ask if I can just “pop by for an hour” to get a few quick shots. I understand the intention—it’s practical, budget-friendly, seemingly simple. But the way I work doesn’t fit into that kind of timeframe. Because my job isn't just to take pictures. It's to create a feeling. And that takes time.

The slow magic of presence

A photograph isn’t something you look at. It’s something you feel. And the feeling behind the image—calm, connection, closeness—doesn’t appear on command. It grows, gently, in the space between us.

When I show up with my camera, I’m not hunting for perfection. I’m listening. I’m watching. I’m holding space. I guide when it makes sense, and I step back when it doesn’t. But most of all, I try to create a quiet trust that allows you to just be. Not perform. Not pose. Just be.

That kind of presence can’t be rushed.

It always - or very often - takes a little while before the realness sets in. Before the nervous smiles melt. Before the stiffness in the shoulders eases. Before people stop noticing the camera—and start noticing each other.

Two hours is the sweet spot

Over time, I’ve found that two hours is just right for most of the people I work with. It’s long enough for the nerves to settle and the mood to shift. Long enough to slow down and be present. And long enough for us to create something honest and personal—without it ever feeling rushed.

The first part is often about easing in. Finding the rhythm. And then, without really noticing, something shifts. We stop “taking photos” and start being in it. That’s where the good stuff lives. And two hours gives us exactly the space we need for that to happen.

Not about more photos — about better ones

I’m not interested in rushing through three locations just to fill a gallery. I’d rather stay in one spot and let the moment deepen. A good photo isn't about the backdrop. It’s about the people in it. And the more time we give ourselves, the more room there is for those quiet, unexpected, beautiful moments to appear.

Maybe we talk for a while before we even take a photo. Maybe we walk slowly. Maybe there’s silence. It’s all part of the process. And it’s all part of the picture.

Trust the pause

In a world that moves fast, taking two hours to slow down can feel radical. But that’s exactly the point.

The way I photograph is gentle. It’s not flashy. It’s not pushy. It’s slow, grounded, and present. And to honour that process—to honour you—I start with two hours. No less.

Because time is where the truth lives. And that’s what I’m here to capture.