TIME, TRUST AND THE SMALL DETAILS .
Laura Pannack Photographer
Award-winning Photographer Laura Pannack has built a practice around patience. Her work often begins with walking, listening and spending time with people until their story starts to unfold. In this conversation, she talks about adolescence, vulnerability, the responsibility of photographing real lives, and why the best images are less about observation and more about relationships.
You’ve spoken about learning most when walking with a camera — what does that process open up in you?
That’s salt in the wound right now as I’ve broken my foot and have been on crutches and a boot for months….. haha
I love to walk, it’s my thing. It’s a process that slows everything to the present and allows a state of ease. When strolling alone with a camera slung around me it’s like a tap on my shoulder reminding me to look at the world in light, colours and textures as if I was painting. It’s a subconscious meditation. With others it’s just a space for silence.
Your work feels like it is built on trust rather than observation. At what point does someone stop being a subject and become something more collaborative?
I avoid using the word subject. It immediately places the idea that there is a hierarchy. Using your question about walking as a perfect definition I see making photographs just like taking a walk with someone, having a conversation. When observing them it’s like I’m listening to them talk, really analysing and absorbing what they are saying and doing in terms of light and colour.
Also importantly trust takes time. I personally find it easy to get close to others and share shamelessly in a vulnerable way, but challenging to actually trust others. Acceptance and enjoying spending time together is one thing but truly allowing yourself to show all your vulnerable sides takes time.
What does trust actually look like in your process — is it something you can feel when it arrives?
No and it’s never permanent. There are moments that demonstrate a welcoming; a shared vulnerability or even just familiarity with humour or kindness; A cheeky comment, a welcoming hug or an offer of a meal. However, trust needs to be respected and maintained. Like any component of a relationship nothing is guaranteed.
You spend long periods with the people you photograph (in fact sometimes years). How does time reshape what you see, versus what you first thought you were documenting?
It allows me to discover stories I would never have imagined. For instance, meeting someone with 9 children and then spending 11 years with them as more members join to make an abundant, beautiful family of 16, or returning to the same bus stop 4 years in a row in Cape Town.
It pushes me to shoot in ways that challenge the same spaces, people and themes over many years to keep them fresh.
It also allows the freedom for what my projects are about to evolve. Initially they may be about one person, one place and then it grows into a more personal venture.
" That every human really is unique and that is a wild fact "
So much of your work circles around young people and the feeling of being in between. What do you think adolescence reveals about people that adulthood tends to hide?
It’s a rare time of still holding onto the qualities we have as children and this desire to step into what we assume being an adult is. It’s intense and confusing. How we present ourselves to the world is complex and I find that fascinating.
It’s also a period of my life that feels most impactful. I can also relate to some of those struggles even today; of identity searching and ironically now yearning for youth rather than maturity. I adore the playfulness of adolescence sprinkled with risk taking and newness.
Do you think the camera changes the truth of a moment, or can it reveal something that wouldn’t exist otherwise?
How we choose to capture the world around us - both fiction and non-fiction — allows a viewer to bring a unique narrative to the table. That’s what exciting about the limitlessness of storytelling.
When you’re behind the camera, where do you place yourself — observer, participant, or something in between?
When I know the image I want to capture, I’m clear at communicating it, but what I really love is when it becomes a shared approach of soundboarding and imaginative play.
" There is no line — Everyone has their boundaries and it’s about constantly checking in with people and ensuring their comfort comes first "
How much of your own identity do you bring into the work, even when it’s not visible?
Honestly, I have no idea, anything I bring is subconscious
You're London-based but always ready to leave. What does home mean to someone who finds so much of themselves on the road? And what different perspective does being on the road bring to what you are doing?
I don’t think I was ever intentionally nomadic it’s just happened. I’m addicted to travel, but also my home comforts. I think home to me is family, consistency and comfort. Being on the road is freedom, creativity, adventure and challenges.
Your work captures a kind of vulnerability that feels very natural — what allows people to let their guard down with you?
I hope it’s my willingness to be vulnerable myself and be clear about my intentions. It’s also about having great people around me for support. I often work with collaborators, producers, fixers etc who are local. This is essential in allowing the people I’m working with see me as an outsider, but one who is only naive and wants to listen.
" Trust needs to be respected and maintained. Like any component of a relationship nothing is guaranteed "
What have your subjects taught you about people that you didn’t understand before?
That every human really is unique and that is a wild fact.
Have there been moments where the relationship mattered more than the photograph itself?
Too many – funnily enough maybe it’s when I really know someone, I struggle to photograph them. Photographing the two closest people in my life - my sister and my mum - seems like an impossible task.
When you’re documenting real lives, where do you draw the line between honesty and intrusion?
There is no line. Everyone has their boundaries and it’s about constantly checking in with people and ensuring their comfort comes first. I’ve learnt that. I used to push people, and it wasn’t respectful.
Have you ever taken a photograph that felt too revealing — and what did you do with that?
I’ve never found anything too revealing. I would only not share a photograph that would offend or upset anyone.
Is there a responsibility that comes with representing someone else’s reality? How do you carry that?
An unthinkable amount. You take precautions, you check in, you ask and you go to bed knowing you’re intentions were always to do your best to represent those you photograph with the same dignity and respect you hope someone would show you.
What are you really looking for when you’re shooting — is it a moment, a feeling, or something harder to define?
The magic.
How do you recognise when an image holds truth, rather than just aesthetic?
You feel something — if there’s no emotion there’s no art.
Does your understanding of a person ever change after you’ve seen the photographs back?
Not that I can think of… some gestures or behaviours reveal things, but it’s only 1 60th of a second…
Your work often sits within specific communities or social contexts — how do you navigate being both inside and outside those worlds?
I work with locals; I have to approach it with the openness that I am an outsider and know nothing. I am there to learn not dictate.
Do you feel like you’re documenting culture as it is, or preserving something that might otherwise be overlooked?
I think we all are. Every picture we take on our phone captures the fashions of ‘now’. It’s rare I am working in far flung remote places on earth, but I do hope the spaces that I do work in I spend time going deeper than surface level.
Projects like Island Symmetries and Young British Naturists show you going into worlds that polite culture usually looks away from. What draws you to those spaces?
I’m not sure Island Symmetries does? I’m drawn to communities; whether that be in the suburbs in England or a religious group. I’m interested in the psychology of how we behave and represent ourselves in groups, and how similar we all are. We are all just human.
So where does Island Symmetries sit then — what's the concept, and what drew you to it?
The concept is based on a geographical term that proposes the furthest place from you will always be the most similar. It was looking at how adolescence is universal. I'm drawn to the nostalgic details; the way friendships are formed, the same soft drinks or sweets, Hangout spots are important to me; those sanctuaries where it feels like a space free of authority. The moments of adolescence were transient across both. The images are purposely mixed up to kind of showcase that.
What do you hope remains with the people you photograph after you’ve left?
A great story.
Finally… Where is your SOMEWHERE GOOD?
That’s the hardest question of all! OK I’m going to say curled up; resting my head on my mum’s lap on the sofa, whilst she strokes my hair. My sister, and I burst into fits of laughter every 3 seconds.
Credits.
@Laura Pannack (2026)
Words. Mick Wilson
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