I’m not just a Sacramento photographer who specializes in queer portraits . . . I am a queer portrait photographer in Sacramento.

Black and white self portrait demonstrating queer Sacramento portrait photography. The subject has short, dark hair and light skin. Most of their face is obscured by the camera they're holding up to their face, but you can see their hair, forehead, and one eye. You can see them a bit in the reflection of the camera lens, along with partial spines of a few books, reading "aft - Blake" on one with the llwellyn logo, "al Dance" with the harper collins logo on the next, and "life" on the one at the outer edge.

Comfort in Queer Photography

Being photographed felt . . . weird. If someone got my attention and I looked over and saw them holding up a camera (or their phone - you know the pose!) I would immediately inwardly cringe, which of course showed up in the resulting picture – lips pressed together, eyes flat, body stiff. Even photos of me when I was a kid looked staged, and forced. The only time I really felt comfortable in front of a camera was during boudoir sessions, when I was all done up, waxed and polished and dressed to the nines. And while I loved the resulting pictures, it was honestly upsetting that it took that kind of set up and process in order for me to feel like myself in front of a camera, and for that to register in the resulting pictures. It works for some people (and I completely understand why – it’s a level of self-pampering I rarely get to indulge in!), but it didn’t work for me. I knew that if I felt that way, I wasn’t alone – and I knew there had to be a way to accomplish that same feeling without having to go through that whole process.

Comfort as a Neurospicy Photographer

I’m just as likely to show up with a messy bun and dirt under my nails as I am to show up clean from head to toe. We have a dog, 3 cats, and a total of seven pet rats, along with a garden composed of a handful of raised beds and a couple dozen grow bags in our back yard. Sometimes I have the time to pull myself together before a shoot – sometimes I don’t. It doesn’t affect the outcome.

I’m also not quite as big as my energy makes me out to be. I frequently hear from people who’ve never met me that they always expect me to be taller – but that’s just my energy. I tend to not hold back my excitement and enthusiasm, and somehow, my intensity oftentimes gets misconstrued into height. This difference is even more noticeable if my husband comes along to carry gear – I’m almost a full foot shorter than he is.

And while it doesn’t necessarily show up online, I’m neurospicy in ways that can show up when I lose my train of thought in the middle of a session, move from one shot to the next before my brain has had a chance to catch up . . . and if you’re the kind of client who has sensory issues and being in front of a camera is bad enough without feeling like you have to carry on a conversation, it’ll show up in me sticking in earbuds so it’ll keep me from chatting your ears off.

We all deserve to show up just as we are.

So, when I start a shoot, I like to take a few minutes to chat. I know full well the bundle of nerves and anxiety that can be sitting in the throat after just arriving to do something out of my comfort zone, so just taking a moment to pause and let it all settle also gives me an opportunity to get on the same page with you. I might start shooting as we chat, depending on the flow of conversation – and unless silence is needed to allow you time to think or process something, I’ll keep the conversation going as I shoot. I look for those brief moments when you’re so focused on what you’re doing, feeling, or talking about that you don’t pay any attention to the camera in my hands. The best pictures come in those pauses when you’re not thinking about the camera, you’re thinking about the things that are important to you.

I did a session in San Francisco for a friend who was looking at being discharged from the military. The military had been a proving ground for her of sorts, and even though she was someone I’d hung out with a handful of times, I realized I hadn’t gotten to see a real glimpse of her and what being in the military meant to her until this shoot. When we hung up her uniform jacket and I stood back and focused my lens on her face, her expression said it all.

When I’m behind the camera, I’m looking for those moments – the ones where how you’re feeling just shines.  It’s often such a brief moment of vulnerability you don’t even realize is happening, but when you see the pictures afterwards, the impact is there and you realize that you’re the one making the picture amazing.

But then there’s this . . . false arrogance, that’s usually very apparent early on in my conversations with clients that won’t be a good fit. It’s hard to cleanly identify, because it’s something that just completely colors my interactions with them. I hear a lot of “I know” or “I could just have a friend do this with their phone” or things along those lines, attempts at trying to minimize my experience and skill – they’re going to be a problem client. Oftentimes, though, it’s a vibe that shows in their tone of voice, facial expression, cadence and inflection, and general body language. I’m the professional with the camera, who will spend hours agonizing over making sure your pictures represent the best of you, and if that expertise, time and energy isn’t recognized for what it is, there’s going to be trouble.

It’s when I can make a connection with someone, and they can trust their vision in my hands, that the kind of portraits I love start to take shape.

I did a pet portrait session for someone who’s aro/ace – and that’s what really settled me on whether or not to offer pet sessions. People on the aro/ace spectrum may not have the traditional sorts of relationships, but these pets are like her children and she treats them as such. So doing a pet session was akin to taking portraits of her kids for her.

And then I did a more traditional family session (husband, wife, and their five kids) – and when I say every kid in that family is queer in some regard, I mean it. During the shoot, I brought out my progressive pride flag, and asked if anyone wanted pictures with it. The speed and eagerness with which hands went up was honestly one of the best moments I’ve ever had during a photo shoot.

So let’s speak to the nerves a little bit -

Making that first contact doesn’t mean you’re committing to a shoot. It just means you’re exploring what it could be, and what it could mean for you. Everybody is going to have a different motivation or expectation – that first phone call is just about seeing if we can get on the same page about it. Clicking “contact” doesn’t mean you’re going to do a session with me, just that we’re going to talk about you, what’s making you consider a session, and what I can help you accomplish with it. That’s the only thing you need to know, even if your answer as to the “why” is “I don’t know.” Just having a feeling it’s time, or a curiosity, is answer enough.

© Valerie Fairbourn Photography 2025-2026. All rights reserved. No part of this website or its contents may be reproduced, copied, modified, or adapted, without prior written consent from Valerie Fairbourn.

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