A written portrait is a quiet observation of the moments that define us. It’s my take on your story.

Changing tack. Standing back. Leaving home. Breaking up. Finding out.

Or something else entirely.

A written portrait isn’t your biography or memoir. It’s not so much what happened, but how you dealt with it. It’s something you’ll be able to look back on, and then quietly smile to yourself and say;

yeah, that happened. Just like that.

You might want to share it. Or pass it down. You might want to keep it for yourself: a reminder of who you are and how you walk through this world.

I’ll tell your story in much the same way that I’m telling mine. Real and messy. Sort of don’t-wear-white-in-case-you-spill-something type messy. Just like life.

A written portrait is how someone else sees you. Seeing yourself as others see you is important. We’re not always great narrators of our own stories, and are often way harder on ourselves than we should be.

And that doesn’t do anyone any good.

Kathy was my first subject, I’d imagine your portrait would happen in much the same way. But we’ll see. There are no real rules about how written portraits get made.

I travelled to New York to write Kathy’s story. I spent four sessions with Kathy for about an hour to an hour and a half each. I let Kathy decide which stories she wanted to share. The photographs were taken in the last session.

It took a while to write and connect the stories together. The finished portrait was about 3,000 words long, in a 28-page book, and it was printed on 170gsm advance off-white stock and perfect bound in a hard cover.

Each portrait includes two copies of your book.

If you’re thinking about having a written portrait made, there’s more info in the FAQ’s. I mean I wouldn’t say the questions are frequently asked, but they might help you decide.

Of course nothing beats a chat. Always up for one of those.

Or, you can jump right in, and buy online like Kathy did, and we can get straight to it.