Story & Lesson Highlights with Tarisha Williams

Tarisha Williams shared their story and experiences with us recently and you can find our conversation below.

Tarisha, so good to connect and we’re excited to share your story and insights with our audience. There’s a ton to learn from your story, but let’s start with a warm up before we get into the heart of the interview. What is a normal day like for you right now?
A normal day for me always begins with grounding myself. I start with bible study and meditation, settling the tone with gratitude, for the challenges I’ve faced, the lessons I’ve learned and the strength to keep moving forward. From there, my days rarely look the same, because my “normal” is constantly evolving alongside my creative journey. Recently, I’ve been returning to the basics, taking simple walks and practicing street photography, letting the world unfold in front of me and capturing it as it is. I find so much inspiration in everyday life and in the people I meet along the way. Those interactions remind me that beauty and joy are everywhere if you slow down enough to notice. Beyond photography, I’ve been giving more time to poetry, which has become another outlet for expression. Writing allows me to explore deeper emotions and perspectives, and it feeds back into my photography by shaping how I want people to feel when they experience my work. Ultimately, whether through images or words, my goal is the same: to create spaces for reflection, connection, and emotional honesty.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I am a fine art portrait photographer with over 15 years of experience, and for me, photography has always been about more than just taking pictures; it’s about creating art that lingers. My work is rooted in storytelling and emotion. I draw inspiration from artists like Dorothea Lange, who captured humanity in a way that went beyond a frame, and I strive to do the same: to create images that make people stop, feel, and reflect. What makes my work unique is my perspective. I don’t just want to capture what’s on the surface; I want to uncover the depth, the layers of story, vulnerability, and truth that lives beneath. Whether it’s joy, resilience, or quiet strength, I believe photographs should resonate long after you’ve looked at them.

Being in Atlanta deeply shapes my work. This city is full of culture, history, and movement; it’s a place where tradition and innovation live side by side. Atlanta has a rhythm to it, a rawness and beauty that constantly inspires me. The people here; their stories, and the energy of the city itself feeds into my art, reminding me that creativity is everywhere if you know how to look for it. Right now, I’m both refining and expanding my craft. I’ve been returning to the basics, grounding myself in authenticity and human connection, while also exploring poetry as another form of artistic expression. Together, my photography and writing will allow me to invite people into an experience; one that is not just visual, but emotional and thought provoking. Ultimately, I want people to know that when they encounter my work, they’re encountering more than an image. They’re seeing life, perspective, and emotion captured through the lens of someone who truly loves the art of storytelling.

Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What breaks the bonds between people—and what restores them?
I believe bonds between people begin to break when we lose touch with ourselves. When stress, temptation, disappointment, or unhealed emotions drive our actions, it often shows up in how we treat others. Life has a way of testing us with curveballs; moments that can set us back or cause us to fall short of who we truly are. And in those times, we don’t always rise right away. We stop engaging in the things that once bought us joy, we stop noticing the beauty in the everyday, and sometimes we stop treating people with the same love and care we once did. But just as easily as bonds can fray, they can also be restored. Healing comes when we take the time to realign with ourselves. When we return to gratitude, reflection, and the simple practices that ground us. Restoration begins with empathy, with choosing to see others through a lens of compassion rather than judgement. It’s in slowing down, listening, and allowing space for honesty and vulnerability. For me, art plays a role in that restoration. Photography is not just a creative outlet, it’s a bridge. It reminds us that we’re all human, all navigating the weight of our own stories, and that connection is still possible even in our most fragile moments. When we remember that, bonds don’t just mend, they often grow stronger.

What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Suffering taught me that success doesn’t make you invincible. You can reach your goals, hit milestones, and still feel a kind of emptiness that no trophy or title can fill. Success is celebrated on the outside, but it doesn’t always heal what’s happening inside. For me, it revealed that true value isn’t found in accomplishments; its found in people, in relationships, in how you show up for yourself and others. There are seasons where I took people for granted or allowed emotional wounds to create distance in relationships. Success can trick you into moving too fast, into thinking you don’t have to slow down and nurture what really matters. Suffering stripped that illusion away. It humbled me. It taught me grace, compassion, and the importance of walking with humility. It forced me to confront myself, to heal, and to grow in ways no accomplishment ever could.

As a black woman, suffering also sharpened my perspective on resilience and authenticity. Society often tells us to be strong no matter what, to carry everything with a smile. But in reality, suffering revealed the strength in vulnerability. It showed me that there’s power in acknowledging the cracks, because that’s where the light gets in. It deepened my connection to culture, to shared struggles and triumphs, and reminded me that my art is not just about me; it’s about giving voice to those stories. Photography became a mirror through that process. My lens allows me to capture people as they are; in their rawness, in their truth. Suffering made me more intentional about telling stories that hold depth, not just surface beauty. It keeps me grounded, reminding me that life is not about perfection, but about presence. And that is something success alone could never teach me.

Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. Is the public version of you the real you?
In some ways, yes, The public version of me is real, but it has often been curated. Shaped into the version of myself that felt socially acceptable. The woman who seems to have it all together: charming, creative, beautiful, strong, successful, approachable. That image is true, but it’s incomplete. It leaves out the parts of me that have struggled, the heartbreaks, the health battles, the moments of doubt, the times when I’ve been more fragile than strong. Life has not always been roses, and I’ve learned that presenting only the polished version of myself not only limits how people see me, but also how deeply they can connect with me. As a black woman, there’s an added layer to this. Society often pressures us to embody strength at all times; to be resilient, unshaken, and endlessly capable. While I am proud of that strength, it can also become a mask, hiding the softer truths; that we hurt, that we bend, that we break and rebuild. I’ve had to unlearn the idea that vulnerability is a weakness. In fact, it’s the opposite. Vulnerability is where true connection lives.

Photography has helped me lean into that. Behind the lens, I don’t seek perfection; I seek truth. I capture the raw, unguarded moments. The kind of moments that reveal both beauty and struggle, joy and pain. That’s what I want my public image to reflect as well; not just the highlight reel, but the full story. The highs and the lows, the polished and the messy, the celebrated and the hidden. The more I allow the world to see me in my wholeness; both the strong and the tender parts; the freer I feel, and the more authentic my art becomes.

Thank you so much for all of your openness so far. Maybe we can close with a future oriented question. What do you think people will most misunderstand about your legacy?
That my legacy didn’t happen overnight. It was built on struggle, sacrifice, setbacks, and the kind of dedication that requires you to keep showing up even when it hurts. Every image I’ve created, every story I’ve told through my lens, comes from a place of lived experience; pain, resilience, faith, and perseverance. My vision has always been bigger than just taking beautiful photographs. I wanted to perfect my craft, yes, but more than that, I wanted my work to be felt. To move people in ways words sometimes can’t. That’s the core of who I am; not just someone who creates images, but someone who creates experiences that reach beyond the surface. I want my legacy to reflect authenticity and truth; an acknowledgement that art can hold both beauty and struggle, joy and heartbreak, vulnerability and strength. My hope is that people will see my legacy as proof that art born from real life, real emotion, and real humanity can leave a mark that lasts longer after the shutter clicks.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://wynnphotography.mypixiset.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/tarisha_williams
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/tarisha-wynn-a7750374
• Facebook: https://m.facebook.com/tarishawynnphotography/

Image Credits
The image of me was taken by photographer Joseph Gooden