The face of a city is the people who live in it

This is not a web­site about running a busi­ness. Running is useful for catching trains; it is less useful for seeing people. At speed, details disappear first, then the larger picture. One arrives quickly—often at the wrong result—and has to begin again. Fortu­nately, neither of us is in a hurry.

I love people, especially their faces. I can stand for a long time at the entrance to a subway escalator, watching expres­sions rise out of the under­ground: smiles, fatigue, distrac­tion, the afterglow of some private happi­ness. Stories that happened in Toronto, stories that arrived here, and stories already leaving—carrying something of the city away to share with those they love.

I make portraits. But before I photo­graph you, I need to under­stand whom you hope to find in the picture. Write to me. Tell me where you imagine yourself, what you would rather con­ceal, what previous photo­graphers failed to see, and which images keep calling you back. A clear idea is welcome, but not re­quired. Some­times an uneasiness, a refusal, or a half-formed wish is the better begin­ning. Then we will meet, talk, follow the light, and try to make visible what is usually lost somewhere between posing and being oneself.

If you need a passport photo­graph, something imme­diate, or a standard result, I am prob­ably not your photo­grapher. I live in Bloor West Village, near High Park, photo­graph only in Toronto, and do not drive. I prefer avail­able light. What I have is time: time to look closely, to listen, and to wait until the face in front of the camera becomes its own.

My name is Andrey. My email is at the bottom of the page.

See you soon.