Add your promotional text...
There’s a lot of debate about whether one person can responsibly be both the rigger and the photographer during a Shibari session. Some say the roles are too distinct with each demanding full attention. Others argue it’s an impossible duality, prioritizing aesthetics over safety. I understand the concern. But I do both. And for me, the key isn’t about proving whether it can be done, it’s about how you choose to do it.
I am a rigger first. That’s not just a statement of priority, it’s a philosophical stance. The rope is not a prop; it’s a medium of trust, communication, and vulnerability. The body in the rope is not a model to pose. It’s a person navigating sensation, surrender, and exposure. Everything I do as a photographer must honor that reality. The emotional safety of the person in the rope takes precedence over every frame I could ever capture.
Because of that, I approach photography within rope scenes with risk mitigation front and center. I don’t use high-risk profile ties when I’m also behind the camera. I’m not chasing technical difficulty. I’m capturing emotion, breath, subtle shifts in the body. The ties I use in these moments are chosen specifically for their stability and safety, so I can focus on presence without compromising responsibility. The goal isn’t to impress, it’s to witness.
Technically, I set up everything in advance. I use constant lighting, and my camera settings are dialed in and locked before the rope even comes out of the bag. If it takes a few extra minutes to meter the shot, so be it. Once we begin tying, I don’t want to be thinking about aperture or shutter speed, I want to be watching her body, her breath, her face. I want to be there.
Post-production helps ease that tension. With modern editing tools, I can crop, reframe, adjust light and color temperature after the fact. That gives me the freedom to take wide, well-lit shots during the scene and trust that the detail work can happen later. I don’t need to direct or reposition the model mid-scene, especially not when she’s bound.
That’s another misconception; posing. The reality is that once someone is in rope, their ability to move is drastically reduced. But that doesn’t mean the image has to be static. All it takes is shifting my angle by crouching, rotating, stepping in or out, in order to get a range of photographs. You’d be surprised how much you can capture in just two or three minutes of slow, mindful movement.
Because I’m photographing vulnerability, I’m also attuned to it. Rope reveals things. Tension in the shoulders, softness in the eyes, or the exact way her hands curl in surrender. When I’m both tying and shooting, my job is to stay emotionally present, to watch the signs. I don’t just see the rope, I see her in it. That’s what I’m there to photograph.
Trust matters, and so does timing. I almost never photograph and tie someone alone during our first session. I almost never suspend someone on a first tie. I almost never do both alone at once unless we’ve worked together for a while and built a shared language. In ongoing dynamics, where the trust is solid and the body language familiar, I might take on both roles. But even then, it’s done with care, intention, and backup plans.
So, is it okay to be both the rigger and the photographer? It depends on how you answer a deeper question: are you willing to put the rope before the frame? For me, photography is not separate from the scene, it’s an extension of it. A way to preserve what happened, not perform what didn’t. Done right, a photograph doesn’t just show what it looked like. It shows what it felt like.
And that’s worth doing well.