Cinematic Portraits in Hamilton Park

A Morning with Evelyn

Evelyn wrote to me asking for headshots. She’s a photographer herself — we live in the same neighborhood, walk the same streets, probably buy coffee at the same corner. When another photographer chooses you, it lands differently. It’s a quiet kind of trust, almost conspiratorial.

We met on a weekday morning in Hamilton Park, while spring was still dragging its heels. Cold wind, low light, everything a little gray and a little still. No sunshine — just a soft, moody sky. But for us, photographers, this is the good stuff. The kind of light that comes free from a softbox in the sky. Skin tones like porcelain. Trees like watercolors.

We worked quietly. Evelyn had the kind of openness that makes people easy to photograph — no walls, no rush. Just a calm, steady presence. At some point, she pulled out her film camera. I held it for a moment. Took a couple of shots. And something happened.

Not a thunderclap. More like a small turning of the earth.

Since then, I can’t stop thinking about film. About slowing down. About not having endless tries. One frame. One. You breathe, you look, you choose. I’ve started researching cameras. I have no idea what I’ll end up with. But something is shifting. Something small, and good.