Recently, I embarked on a creative photoshoot journey—this time, for myself. As part of a photography school assignment, I was tasked with creating a self-portrait. What started as a simple exercise quickly turned into a deeply personal exploration of self-expression, experimentation, and identity.
To set up, I hung a wrinkled white bedsheet behind me as a backdrop. It wasn’t perfect, but I liked the organic, unpolished look—it added a layer of rawness that felt right for a self-portrait. I used proper background stands to keep it in place. On one side of me, there was a window that let in a bit of natural light, although not very strong. To balance it out, I placed a softbox lamp at about a 45-degree angle from the side and above on the other side. It’s not a very powerful light, but it was enough to illuminate the scene softly and evenly.
I started with a standard portrait—something safe, straightforward.
But quickly, I felt the urge to play. I remembered I had kept a uniquely shaped paper with circular cut-outs in it, saved just in case I might need it for a photoshoot. I tried holding it in front of the lens for a few shots. These instantly felt more exciting and expressive than the basic portraits. The interplay of light and shadow through the holes created interesting textures and visual rhythm. These are the shots I ended up liking most from the initial part of the shoot.
But I wasn’t done yet. I had one more idea I’d been wanting to try for a while—photographing myself through painted glass. I took a piece of glass and started painting on it with white acrylic paint using a brush. Then, I smeared and spread the paint with my hands to give it a more abstract, emotional texture.
Without much planning, I spontaneously decided to draw a woman’s face on the other side of the glass. The idea was to create a double image—a mask-like version of myself. It felt like a symbolic act: hiding behind a painted face I present to the world, while my real self peers through from behind.
It wasn’t a perfect drawing. In fact, the face turned out a bit weird and even funny. In the photo, I held the glass with one hand next to my face, and pressed my other hand against it, as if I were slightly trapped behind the surface. It became a metaphor: the painted face as a mask, a performance, while behind it, I quietly exist—real, soft, and unseen.
Another idea I played with was flipping the painted glass upside down, so that the drawn face became a kind of extension or melting reflection of me. Not just a mask, but a continuation—another version of myself. It was like allowing both sides to exist at once: the one I show, and the one I keep inside.
I shot everything using my Sony A7III with a 50mm F1.8 lens. I changed my camera settings throughout the shoot as needed. To make the process easier while working alone, I connected my camera to my computer with a tether cable. This allowed me to control focus and composition directly from the screen. I used to try this with a remote control app on my phone, but it kept freezing or disconnecting, so now tethering is my go-to setup. It’s a game changer when photographing yourself—much more reliable and precise.
This shoot was deeply fulfilling—not only because I got to play with creative techniques and visual metaphors, but also because it helped me connect with a part of myself I don’t always show. Photography becomes a mirror, a language, a bridge.
I’d love to hear what you think about the photos! What feelings or thoughts do they evoke for you?
