"Nude photos? Isn't that a bit… risqué?"
I hear this phrase time and time again. Sometimes from women who are interested in a photoshoot but are worried about what others might think. Sometimes from partners or friends. And sometimes it just hangs unspoken in the air.
I understand that. We live in an age where bare skin is everywhere – and yet is constantly under suspicion. Social media platforms blur out works of art; algorithms cannot distinguish between a nude and pornography. No wonder so many people no longer know where the line is drawn.
That’s why I’d like to speak honestly about this here. Because to me, one thing is clear: nude is not porn. Being naked is not the same as being pornographic. There’s a world of difference between the two.
Nudity is not a subject, but a state
We are born naked. We shower naked, we sometimes sleep naked, and we stand in front of the mirror like that every morning. Nudity in itself is neither good nor bad, neither beautiful nor ugly, neither innocent nor scandalous. It is simply – human.
For thousands of years, the naked body has been one of the central motifs in art. The Venus de Milo, Botticelli’s *The Birth of Venus*, Rodin’s nudes or Edward Weston’s photographs: no one would ever think of describing these works as pornography. They depict the body to tell us something about humanity – about beauty, vulnerability, strength and transience.
So what makes an image pornographic is not the naked skin. It is something else.
The difference lies in the perspective
As far as I’m concerned, the difference can be summed up in three questions.
What is the purpose of the image? Pornography has a single aim: to arouse a stranger who is viewing it. It is made for an audience that consumes it. A nude photograph, on the other hand, aims to convey something – a mood, a personality, the play of light and shadow on the skin, the curve of a back. It invites the viewer to look, not to consume.
Who is being looked at – a body or a person? Pornography reduces people to body parts. In a nude photograph, the woman remains a human being: with an expression, a posture, a story. Often, it is precisely those images in which almost nothing can be seen – a shoulder, a glance over the shoulder, a hand on the skin – that tell the most.
Who owns the photos? For me, that’s the most important question. In pornography, the photos usually belong to others: producers, platforms, an anonymous audience. When you have a nude shoot with me, the photos belong to you. You decide whether and to whom you show them – and whether anyone other than you will ever see them at all.
Aesthetics rather than explicitness
When I photograph nudes, I work with light, shadow, lines and subtle hints. I do not take explicit photographs, and I do not use poses whose sole purpose is to highlight intimate details.
This has nothing to do with prudishness. It is a conscious artistic choice: an image that does not reveal everything leaves room. Room for the imagination, for atmosphere, for the personality of the woman I am photographing. A shadow falling across the hip often says more than any detail.
That is precisely why many women feel more at ease than they expected during a nude photoshoot. They soon realise that it’s not about showing ‘as much as possible’. It’s about showing yourself as you are – just as you feel comfortable.
You decide how far you go
Not every shoot I do is a nude shoot. Most women come for classic boudoir photography in lingerie; some opt for covered nude or semi-nude, whilst others choose fine art nude. I’ve described the differences in a separate post: Nude or not nude?
This applies to everyone: you decide how far you want to go – before the shoot, during it, and afterwards too. What we discuss in the preliminary chat is a framework, not a contract you have to stick to. You can always keep more on than you originally intended – and I won’t put any pressure on you to do otherwise. You’ll never hear me say things like ‘Go on, have a go’ or ‘Just a bit more’.
Your picture remains yours
With nude photographs in particular, there is a great deal of concern that they might eventually turn up somewhere you’d never want them to be seen. That’s why I have clear rules in place, which are also set out in my code of conduct:
- Nothing will be shown without your written consent. No image will appear on my website, on social media or in an exhibition unless you have expressly authorised it – image by image and channel by channel.
- Your gallery is private. You’ll receive your photos in a password-protected gallery that isn’t linked anywhere and cannot be found by search engines.
- No AI without your consent. Your images will not be used to train AI systems, nor will they be altered using AI.
- No degrading content. I will under no circumstances publish anything related to pornographic content – not even when licensing to third parties. Without exception.
And if you change your mind later, you can withdraw your authorisation at any time with effect for the future.
Why this issue is so important to me
I take photographs of women in lingerie, both partially clothed and nude. And time and again, I witness what happens when a woman sees herself in an aesthetic nude photograph for the first time. It is often a moment of great surprise: ‘Is that me?’
Not because the photograph had changed anything. But because, for the first time, she sees herself with a loving, respectful gaze – without shame, without judgement. Many tell me afterwards that they have perceived their bodies differently ever since. More kindly. More naturally.
For me, that’s the real difference between nude art and pornography: pornography takes something from you to give it to others. A good nude photograph gives something back to you.
And what about the others?
Perhaps you’re still wondering: what will other people think when they find out I’ve had nude photos taken?
The honest answer: You don’t have to tell anyone. Your photos are private, and it’s up to you to decide who knows about them. And if you do tell people, you might be surprised at how many women say: “I’ve always wanted to do that too – I just never plucked up the courage.”
Nudity is not something you need to justify. Your body is yours. And so is the decision as to how you show it – and to whom.
If this has piqued your curiosity
If you can imagine having an artistic nude portrait taken of yourself one day – or if you’d just like to talk about it for now – then do get in touch. We can discuss everything at our leisure during an initial consultation: your wishes, your boundaries, your questions. There’s absolutely no obligation.
And if you’d like to get an idea of how I approach the nude: you’ll find the ‘Fine Art Nude’ section in my portfolio.
I’m looking forward to seeing you.
Leif Sundelius
