A woman has herself photographed nude. She has spent years fighting her body, speaks of an eating disorder and describes how much the question of food has governed her life. Now she stands beside a pond, facing the camera. Later, she looks at the photographs and recognises a woman she likes. Herself. Towards the end, she says: “I’m not a model. I’m a woman who has lived.”
The Bayerischer Rundfunk documentary is called “Embrace Your Body: Körperbewusstes Foto-Shooting”, a body-conscious photo shoot. Photographer Susanne Heiker accompanies Sandra through an encounter with her body that visibly moves her. Can a photo shoot help someone make peace with herself? That question lingers after the programme. I recognise it from my own work, although at first I had never explicitly asked it.
I very often hear women describe, in quite specific terms, how they see themselves differently in my photographs. Some have felt truly beautiful for the first time. As a photographer, I am pleased to hear that. Yet that first time also makes me think. How much criticism, how many judgements and what expectations stand between a woman and her own reflection? How is it that she can only discover something beautiful about herself through another person’s eyes?
Women are often their own harshest critics when it comes to their bodies. Harsher than even their favourite enemy could be. They know exactly which part supposedly has too much, too little, is too soft or not firm enough. The inspecting eye is well practised: stomach checked, legs found wanting, verdict confirmed. I do not always know the life story behind such a reaction. But I take seriously what a woman tells me about how she sees herself.
In Spoleto, I encounter photographs that fascinate me every time I pass them on the way from the car park into town. Large photographs of women with scars, including the marks of breast surgery. To me, these images are entirely free of eroticism. They show strong women with a dignity that reaches me immediately. I am genuinely envious. I would love to make photographs like these myself. So far, I have not found the women with whom I could develop such a project.
The exhibition is called “Cicatrici Rivelate”, roughly “Scars Revealed”. It opened in December 2024 in the passage linking the Spoletosfera car park to the town. The idea came from Simona Laudani, founder of the association Prenditi Cura di Te. Simone Rossi took the photographs, working with art director Federico Gentilini. The project brings together the stories of 17 women whose bodies bear the marks of surgery, accidents and other experiences. [1]
What impresses me is how naturally these women occupy the image. The scars are visible. But my gaze does not get stuck on some supposed damage. I see women. Their bodies carry a history, and that history belongs to their present. I do not know what each woman felt during the shoot or later when she looked at her photographs. My enthusiasm as a viewer cannot answer that question. But the images change something in the way I look. They show me how much a photograph can tell when it does not reduce a body to its conformity with an ideal of beauty.
The influence of images of other people on how we view our own bodies has been extensively studied. A systematic review by Fioravanti and colleagues, published in 2022, examined 43 experiments involving a total of 8,637 participants, most of them young women. Viewing idealised bodies on social platforms increased body dissatisfaction. Comparing one’s own appearance with that of the people shown played an important role. [2]
The familiar claim that we are “only looking at a few pictures” is therefore rather too convenient. In these experiments, the images affected participants’ immediate satisfaction with their bodies. How long such effects last is another question. And blaming Photoshop alone would be equally convenient. The choice of bodies, poses, lighting and camera angles can also create an ideal. Leaving the retouching slider untouched does not automatically make anyone a neutral observer.
Other representations can, in turn, encourage a kinder view. In 2019, Cohen and colleagues studied the effects of body-positive Instagram posts on 195 young women. Compared with idealised images and posts unrelated to appearance, these improved mood, body satisfaction and body appreciation in the short term. Yet both idealised images and body-positive posts increased self-objectification: the women viewed themselves more in terms of their outward appearance. [3]
I find that striking. You can reach a gentler judgement about your body and still remain preoccupied with judging it. For me, the photographs in Spoleto therefore raise a question: could a photograph also help a woman see her body as part of her person and her history, rather than constantly assessing its attractiveness? That is my thought as I look at these works, not a demonstrated effect of the exhibition.
There is also research into the effects of one’s own boudoir photographs, though considerably less. A qualitative study by Vilca-Deza and colleagues, published in 2025, asked 14 Peruvian women aged between 23 and 30 about their experiences. They reported, among other things, greater confidence, a new view of themselves and increased acceptance of features such as scars or stretch marks. This resembles feedback I know from my own shoots. [4]
A small interview study does not prove a general or lasting effect. But it makes clear that such experiences are also being examined scientifically. Another pilot study involved 40 women who had experienced breast cancer. Twenty received a photographic intervention involving portraits and personal reflection; twenty formed a comparison group. After three weeks, body image had improved in the portrait group. However, the groups were not randomly assigned, and photography was part of a psychosocial programme. This was not a study of an ordinary nude photo shoot. [5]
Research therefore offers us indications. It justifies neither dismissing every enthusiastic response as a passing mood nor attributing a reliable therapeutic benefit to a shoot. Most of the women in the boudoir and social-media studies mentioned were also considerably younger than many of the women I photograph.
What can I contribute to such an experience as a photographer? First, I must create the conditions in which the woman can feel comfortable with me and during our work. For me, that begins with a conversation, snacks I have prepared myself and a glass of Prosecco. In an informal chat, we clarify questions on both sides. Why does she want these photographs? Simply for herself? That is surprisingly common, particularly with boudoir shoots. As a gift for her partner? As a personal challenge? I ask specifically what she finds difficult about her body. In turn, she can ask anything that remains unclear about the process or our collaboration.
This helps me understand what she hopes for from the photographs and what I need to take into account when creating them. At the same time, we build the trust that makes this work possible. Only when a model feels comfortable can we create images that both she and I are happy with.
In the BR documentary, Susanne Heiker uses a sound meditation to help her client settle in. I meditate myself and also lead meditations in my work as a geomancer. However, I do not work with singing bowls, and meditation is not part of my photographic practice. She has her approach; I have mine. Sandra seems able to respond well to this preparation.
A nude photo shoot is a moment of vulnerability. I am dressed; she is naked. I give directions about how she should present herself. I have to handle that imbalance with care. During my shoots, I do not compliment her body. There are no remarks about how wonderful her figure, legs or breasts are. At that moment, I am a photographer. I praise a successful pose, an appropriate expression, a gaze that carries the image. A woman should not be confronted with my personal assessment of her as a man.
I have also noticed that during a nude shoot I keep almost twice the physical distance from the woman that I would in an ordinary social encounter. A companion is certainly welcome. They can adjust her hair, for instance, or help with other small details. Trust also finds expression in how I handle the space between us.
Whatever a shoot may evoke emotionally, it remains photographic work. In the BR programme, Sandra says, in essence, that what matters is the inner perspective, not the camera’s perspective. I understand that as a description of her experience. As a general statement, it falls short. Through pose, lighting and camera angle, a woman can appear so much slimmer that she seems to weigh ten kilograms less. Raised arms can make the breasts look firmer. I do not need retouching for that. It is photographic craft.
Knowing these possibilities does not mean that every woman has to be depicted as slim and firm as possible. The images we seek emerge from our conversation and our work together. But the way they are made influences what she sees afterwards. A carefully created photograph can reveal something about herself that her own gaze has previously overlooked. The fact that the image has been composed does not make her pleasure in it any less real.
Can that be healing? The BR documentary’s narrative suggests a journey from a former war with the body towards self-acceptance. The voice-over attributes a clear effect to the photographer’s approach. The photographer herself, however, does not promise healing in this programme. Sandra’s story also shows that her change had already begun. Perhaps the shoot reinforces that journey. Perhaps it makes visible something that has already grown within her.
Feeling comfortable during a shoot, finding yourself beautiful in the photographs and making lasting peace with your body are different experiences. They may be connected. I very often hear specific accounts of a changed view of oneself. I take those accounts seriously, even though they do not tell me how long the change lasts. I am interested in whether some of it carries over into everyday life: can a woman rediscover, in her bathroom mirror, what she found in the photograph?
If you are considering having photographs like these taken yourself, find a photographer with whom the chemistry is right. Take time for a conversation. You need to be able to let go during the shoot and trust that your wishes and boundaries will be respected. And if you can even enjoy this time for yourself, for who you are and for your body, so much the better.
I cannot promise reconciliation. I can shape the photographic encounter with care. What comes of it for a woman belongs to her experience. Her feedback and the photographs in Spoleto make me think about what our gaze reveals and what it usually overlooks. At the end, Sandra sees a woman who has lived. And she likes that woman.
Sources
Starting point: Bayerischer Rundfunk – Embrace Your Body, supplied transcript; the quotation at approximately 7:01–7:09 is translated from German.
[1] Comune di Spoleto – Cicatrici Rivelate and F.A.V.O. – Project description.
[3] Cohen et al. (2019) – BoPo on Instagram.
[5] Implementing the framed portrait experience with Italian breast cancer survivors (2023).