We were lucky to catch up with Anna Gibbs recently and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Anna, thanks for joining us today. So let’s jump to your mission – what’s the backstory behind how you developed the mission that drives your brand?

I’m drawn to the quiet, unscripted moments – the ones that happen in passing but manage to say everything. My mission is to catch those and reflect them back in a way that helps more of us slow down and notice the magic of the moment. I’m less interested in perfection or performance and more interested in the honest in-between moments that show up when no one’s trying too hard – the things we miss when we’re rushing; the things most people might miss unless they were, say, creepily lurking with a camera strapped to them at all hours of the day.

The camera to me is kind of like a bridge; it connects me to directly the subject – into texture, gesture, light – but also gives just enough distance to actually see what’s happening. It helps me reflect what I see as well as what I feel – helps me understand the world and my place in it.

I think of my work as documenting the white space between the bricks – the subtle details that hold the story together. I want the people I photograph to feel like themselves, not like a curated version of themselves. To feel seen – fully, honestly, and without needing to perform. And I hope the work invites them to slow down and see that way, too.

In a culture obsessed with productivity and polish, I’ve come to deeply value moving slowly. Making eye contact, listening all the way, noticing what’s already there – instead of trying to make it into something else.

My wish is for my work to remind people that their lives (exactly as they are) are worth paying attention to, that beauty doesn’t need to be staged, that the way you look when you’re in love – or doing something you love – can hold more magic than any posed portrait. This is what drives most everything I do: whether I’m photographing a wedding, editing a brand film, or jumping out of my car to chase birds flying in an interesting formation – I’m just paying attention to what’s actually there, believing that it’s enough, and finding all the little magic beans inside that truth.

The mission of my work is storytelling. It matters to me because stories matter to me not just the loud and polished ones but the quiet and tender ones with all their contradictions and rough edges and blemishes. That’s where magic takes place and my mission is to bring light to that. To help people feel seen, to encourage people to slow down for a second, and to show that the ordinary is anything but!

Anna, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

I was born and raised in Virginia by two curious, creative parents – one an illustrator, the other a journalist – so my early life was filled with pictures and stories. Weekends often included gallery visits and long, involved conversations with people about why they do what they do. I think that mix of visual art and emotional inquiry shaped how I see the world, and certainly how I approach my work.

I’m a photographer, videographer and editor working along the East Coast, based in my home state of Virginia. I work with brands, couples, families and artists – basically anyone with a story to tell (which, if you ask me, is everyone) and a desire to see it reflected and shared with care.

I didn’t pick up a camera thinking it would become a career. Partly because I was nine and didn’t know what “career” meant – but mostly because I had too many feelings, too much curiosity, and a sense that the world was worth researching.

My first camera was a little silver Coolpix point-and-shoot that I received as a birthday gift and covered in stickers, and I photographed everything: the freckles on my skin, my parents in their room, strangers walking down the street, trees outside my window, myself in the mirror. No one was safe. It wasn’t about making something beautiful – it was about watching, collecting, trying to make sense of things. The camera became a kind of research portal, a way to process what was happening around me and inside me. In many ways, it still is.

I’ve always been interested in movement. I grew up dancing ballet and playing violin, and I think that shaped how I use the camera: paying attention to rhythm, gesture, timing; to what happens in the pause between movements. That kind of observation became and remains central to just about everything I do.

In 2010, I did a summer intensive at the Corcoran College of Art + Design, and began to pursue photography more seriously throughout high school, eventually earning a BFA in Photography and Film from VCUarts in 2017. Since then, I’ve spent my time building a creative practice rooted in the same early instincts I was lucky to be supported in as a kid.

I had some really great teachers and mentors who helped nudge me forward. In high school, I had a photo teacher, Allen Beland, who quietly encouraged me—he made me feel like my endless stream of weird little images was worth paying attention to, without ever making a fuss about it. At the time, that was exactly what I needed. My orchestra director and violin teacher, Thomas Hartman, taught me about the power of listening and practice. And during undergrad, professors like Cynthia Henebry, Jon-Philip Sheridan, Paul Thulin, Shannon Castleman, and John Henley helped me shed the fluff and hone in on what actually matters.

Today, I work with all kinds of people, documenting some of their most intimate moments. I’m most honored by the trust my clients place in me. Whether I’m photographing a wedding, a brand, or a chef cooking a meal I never forget what a privilege it is to be invited in, and to capture the space between.

Can you tell us about a time you’ve had to pivot?

A few years ago, I found out I had a small tumor growing in my spine. It was 6mm, perfectly round, tucked in the center of my body where it pressed against a set of nerves. I was told that if it grew, I could lose control of my bladder or legs. Neither seemed ideal.

The timing of it disrupted everything. I was 15 days away from the end of my lease and planning to move to New York – and instead, I was packing up my life to move into my dad’s house where I’d recover from a surgery I was suddenly preparing for. It wasn’t as much a pivot as it was a complete stop and what I’d soon realize to be a reorientation.

Suddenly I wasn’t thinking about career plans or timelines or productivity – or for that matter, personal failures – I was thinking about sensation. Stillness. How to stand up and pee. Making sure I could still feel my legs and wiggle my toes. Fear buckled right on in to the passenger seat next to me like a road trip buddy and for once I was able to turn my head to look right at it. It really made me slow down. Not in a romantic sip-tea-and-journal way, but in a hard, ‘ok ouch, gotta re-learn how to walk’ way. It made me pay attention to what I was holding onto and what I was ready (if not absolutely forced) to let go of. It reminded me that I can’t control much but I can listen, honor what my body knows and move forward, with or without a map.

That experience didn’t just shift my plans – it shifted the way I relate to the world; to my work, to time, to what it means to be alive and document it all. I’m catch myself sometimes forgetting how brief it all is. And then other times I catch myself completely present; and just how lucky I am to feel it, to see it, to stand on both legs and witness the infinite texture of this world.

Looking back, are there any resources you wish you knew about earlier in your creative journey?

Oh yes. Mainly, I wish I had utilized the resources I didn’t appreciate as resources at the time – the people in my life who were doing some version of what I wanted to do. People who understood things like contracts, time and money management, reitrement plans and tax write-offs.

Most of what I’ve learned was through mistakes – a fundamental part of the process. But if I could go back: I’d first work for someone else running a successful creative business. I’d watch how they manage their time, what they outsource, how they communicate with clients, and how they manage not to drop the ball. I thought I knew enough – I did not.

I learned a ton just by being around people who were deep in it. One of the most formative influences for me was photojournalist Julia Rendleman. I met her while interning at VCU, and ended up nannying for her family for eight years—occasionally assisting her on assignments, but mostly just absorbing how she worked. I was in her house nearly every day, and got to watch how she moved through the world: how she balanced things, how she stayed present, how she kept doing the work. That taught me more than any class ever did (though, to be clear, I owe a lot to my education at VCUarts Photo + Film!!! Just covering my bases in case anyone’s reading this).

If you’re like me and have that “No thanks, I got it” attitude, here are a few things I’d tell my younger self or anyone just starting out:

Failure is simply part of it. Make mistakes but also learn from other people. Ask one billion questions without shame. Don’t be afraid to look like you don’t know something when you don’t know something.

And I’d take myself by the shoulders to say: Buddy, not everyone will like what you make. Your sense of self worth cannot be about compliments or awards or approval. If you focus on the outside world telling you are who you are, you will absolutely lose your mind. Everything takes time. And no matter how long you work at it, you’ll always be the student, buddy.

Please be in touch with me! If my story resonates, I’d love to meet you: [email protected]

Anna Gibbs
Photographer + Videographer
annagibbs.com

Contact Info:

• Website: annagibbs.com
• Instagram: instagram.com/annatakespix
• Facebook: facebook.com/annagibbsphotovideo/
• Linkedin: linkedin.com/in/annapgibbs/
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@annagibbsvideo
• Other: vimeo.com/annagibbs

Image CreditsAnna Gibbs Photography & Videography