Part 1 of 5 in a Portraiture Series from Cuba
Let me start with something I believe to my bones:
All the emotion in portraiture flows through the spine.
Not the face.
Not the eyes.
Not even the light.
The spine.
When a person stands in front of your lens—whether they’re a stranger on the street, a friend on a rooftop, or a professional model you’ve hired for a morning shoot—the pose they strike, whether intentional or unconscious, always travels through the core of their body. And in that body language, particularly the curvature of the spine, lives the truth. The honesty. The emotion.
Welcome to Day One of my 5-part Havana portraiture series. Each day this week, I’ll be posting a gallery of portraits featuring a single Cuban model, taken during my most recent trip. I’ll be using each post to explore one portrait theme that surfaced during the shoot.
Today’s theme?
Curves.
I didn’t go to Havana with a specific shot list in mind. That’s not how I shoot anymore. These days, I respond more than I direct. I follow more than I push. And when you work with Cuban models—most of whom are dancers, performers, or creatives of some sort—you quickly realize that their bodies know things their minds don’t need to translate.
There’s a word the ancient Greeks and Romans used:
Contrapposto.
It means “counterpose,” and in classical sculpture, it refers to a standing human figure with most of its weight on one foot. That slight shift of balance naturally causes the hips and shoulders to tilt in opposite directions, creating an elegant S-curve that makes the whole form come alive.
It’s not stiff. It’s not posed. It’s… natural.
Human.
Alive.
I saw that same idea playing out right in front of me as I shot this first model. She didn’t strike one rigid pose after another. She flowed. She moved. She twisted and turned and let her own rhythm guide the session.
And the spine—her spine—told the entire story.
When you really slow down and look, curves in portraiture tell us everything:
A gentle arch of the back? Vulnerability.
A twist in the waist? Tension or seduction.
A tilt of the shoulder? Invitation.
A lean of the head? Thoughtfulness.
These little shifts—all anchored in the curve of the spine—create layers of visual emotion. And whether you’re aware of it or not, your eyes know how to read them. Your gut knows. Your heart knows. That’s the power of posture. The power of form.
This model didn’t need to “act” emotional.
She didn’t need to “perform” emotion.
She embodied it, through the lines of her body—those curves, those coils, those elegant turns.
And I didn’t need to tell her how. I just needed to notice.
Then shoot. Then trust.
One of the biggest mistakes photographers make—especially when working with people—is assuming that emotion only shows up in the face. That if you don’t have a teardrop, a smile, or a furrowed brow, then there’s no feeling.
But think about some of the most iconic portraits of all time. Many of them have neutral faces, even expressionless ones. What draws you in, often, is what the body is doing. How the subject holds themselves. How the shoulders drop, or the arms fold, or the weight shifts just slightly off-center.
In a way, curves are the language of the unspoken.
They whisper what the mouth doesn’t say.
They suggest, imply, hint—without shouting.
They are what makes stillness feel alive.
In reviewing the frames from today’s model, I noticed how often she let her spine guide her movement. It wasn’t a deliberate “pose-for-the-camera” moment. It was something older. Something deeper. There’s a primal beauty in the way we instinctively curve our bodies when we feel relaxed, or curious, or playful, or even guarded. She embodied all of it.
And if you let the curve lead you—both as subject and as photographer—you don’t need a studio. You don’t need fancy lighting. You don’t even need direction.
You just need to stay out of the way.
So why start this 5-part series with the theme of curves?
Because it’s foundational.
Because it’s emotional.
Because it reminds me that photography is about what you feel just as much as what you see.
And because, in a place like Havana—where the music hums in the walls, where the past and present fold into each other, where every street corner feels like a stage—it’s impossible not to be swept into the rhythm of the human form.
Here’s my challenge to you:
Next time you photograph a person—friend or stranger, posed or candid—don’t look at the face first.
Look at the spine.
The tilt.
The twist.
The bend.
The curve.
Because that’s where the feeling begins.
And just one last note:
I shot this entire series on an iPhone.
No big rig. No assistants. No strobes or softboxes.
Just sunlight, shadow, and presence.
If anyone tells you that mobile photography is less capable of creating fine art portraiture, send them this post. Send them this gallery. Then send them to Havana.
Because the truth is this:
Your camera will never curve a body. But your presence can invite it.
And if you’re lucky—if you shoot with openness and stillness and gratitude—the spine will curve, the frame will breathe, and the photograph will live.
See you tomorrow for Day Two.
Same city.
New model.
New theme.
Same spine.
Click.
Jack.
P.S. Join us December 2-8, 2025. For an iPhone Photography workshop. So you can learn to take pictures just like this.
