We recently connected with Samantha Levi and have shared our conversation below.

Samantha, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. To kick things off, we’d love to hear about things you or your brand do that diverge from the industry standard.

One of the biggest ways I diverge from the industry standard is that I don’t see photography as a transactional service — I see it as transformation through image-making. A lens of truth. While much of the industry focuses on polished, curated branding, I created something I call Visual Alchemy.

Visual Alchemy is where photography becomes a ritual of being truly seen. Instead of directing clients into rigid poses, I guide them through embodiment practices, archetypes, and mirror work so they can reconnect with their essence. Sessions become less about “looking perfect” and more about reclaiming authenticity, confidence, and presence.

Over my two decades in the photography industry, I began noticing patterns. Most clients walked into the studio nervous, dreading being photographed, or afraid to step into the next version of themselves. I could feel the discomfort echoing in the room. That was when I got curious about how I could support them on a deeper level — and I knew it was time to bridge my spiritual practice and healing arts with my photography. My clients became a mirror for me, showing me what was truly needed.

For years, I kept those worlds separate. I worried that bringing in my spiritual tools, rituals, and different ways of working would be “too weird” or outside the box. I carried a real fear of being judged. At the time, these conversations weren’t as mainstream as they are today. But eventually, I realized that the very thing I feared was what made my work authentic.

It became a conversation of self-love. Because when we truly love ourselves from the inside, it radiates outward for the world to see. You can put on makeup, wear a new outfit, and hire a photographer — but what’s really being seen is the energy between you and the viewer of the final image. Retouching can only go so far. In fact, when we retouch too much, all we see is the editing itself, and it strips away the subject’s essence. It feels like another mask. That doesn’t speak to authenticity; it speaks to what we’re hiding.

For example, I once guided a client through archetypal poses like “The Warrior” and “The Queen.” She arrived nervous and unsure, but by the end she was radiating in her power — not because I told her how to smile, but because she remembered who she truly was and what she wanted to communicate through her images. Those photographs weren’t just for her business; they became a mirror she could return to whenever she needed to remember her worth.

That’s why this difference matters. When people feel truly seen, the impact goes far beyond marketing or branding. It touches how they show up in their work, their relationships, and their lives. For me, that’s the real magic and art of photography. After all, anyone can take a photo — but how does it make you feel?

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I’m Samantha Levi — a commercial brand photographer, creative director, and authenticity guide. For over two decades, photography has been my craft and my language for communicating with the world. My love for the medium started early — I grew up in 4-H, entering photography for 12 years. In 7th grade I learned the darkroom and fell in love with the art of image-making. By high school I had supportive art teachers who nurtured my creativity, and I thought I was headed to art school. At the same time, I was being recruited for high jump at the University of Central Missouri — what sealed the deal was their photography program, which included color darkroom work.

After graduation, I was offered a contract photographing hotels and virtual tours across the Northwest and Canada for PhotowebUSA. That 18-month contract gave me invaluable experience, introduced me to brand storytelling before I even had a name for it, and provided me the gear I needed to step into my next chapter. When the contract ended, I moved back home to Kansas City and took whatever jobs I could as a freelancer. Along the way, I taught myself makeup and eventually became a makeup and wardrobe stylist for a production company, working on large-scale commercials. Those years expanded my skills and contacts — but eventually I circled back to what I had always loved most: photography.

In 2013, I launched my photography business, and the connections I had built carried over into landing jobs with brands like Wendy’s and Wingstop, as well as album and promo photography for artists from Tech N9ne to Jelly Roll. Through my career, I’ve worked across commercial advertising, editorial, branding, events, music and portrait photography, and my work has been featured in international publications. I’ve also had the honor of being voted #1 Photographer in Kansas City in 2020 and 2022. But what matters most to me is creating imagery that feels authentic, powerful, and alive.

What sets me apart is my approach, which I call Visual Alchemy. It’s a process that blends my photography with embodiment practices, archetypal exploration, and intentional space-holding, transforming a session into a ritual of being truly seen. Many clients arrive nervous, uncomfortable, or even afraid of being photographed — and I know that feeling myself. Instead of forcing stiff poses or chasing perfection, I guide clients into presence and flow. The result is more than just beautiful photos; it’s a transformative experience that helps people reclaim their confidence and authenticity.

The work I do isn’t just about delivering “pretty” images — it’s about honoring the humans in front of my lens. My goal is that every session gives something back to the person being photographed: a reflection of their essence, a reminder of their worth, and images that allow them to see themselves with love.

I offer services that include brand photography, creative direction, portraiture, editorial, and mentoring. For businesses, that might mean building a content library that reflects their story and values. For individuals and solo entrepreneurs, it might mean creating portraits that don’t just showcase how they look, but who they are at their core. I also hold workshops and collaborative experiences that weave together photography, spirituality, and embodiment in my community.

The problems I solve often go beyond the surface. Many clients come to me because they need images for their business or personal brand — but what they leave with is something deeper: a new way of seeing themselves. I help dissolve the fear of being seen, the old belief that they have to perform or hide, and instead capture them in their truth.

I’m most proud of the moments when a client looks at their photos and says, “That’s me — I finally see myself.” That’s the heartbeat of my work.

At its core, my brand is about authenticity, empowerment, and creative expression. I want potential clients and followers to know that working with me isn’t just about getting photos — it’s about stepping into your power, owning your story, and being witnessed in your wholeness.

We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?

One of the biggest lessons I had to unlearn was that perfection equals value. For so many years of my career, I chased flawless lighting, flawless posing, flawless retouching — and if I’m honest, it wasn’t just about the photos. My perfectionism and self-judgment were running the show. I learned the rules of photography, mastered them, but then let those very rules and expectations cage me. I was so afraid of “getting it wrong” that I limited my potential as an artist at so many points in my career.

That mindset created a cycle of fear and procrastination. Sometimes not working felt safer than making mistakes. Even putting myself out there on social media felt like a risk I wasn’t allowed to take unless everything was “perfect.” Even self-doubts of not being ‘good enough’ in comparison to other artists. Looking back, I see how the stories I told myself held me back from experimenting more, taking risks, sharing more of my work, and trusting my own vision like I had in the simple days of high school art class. And yet, the irony is that my favorite work — and the work that resonates most with others — is always the imperfect, alive, human kind. The raw moments where someone’s real essence breaks through.

Ansel Adams once said, “The perfect is the enemy of the good.” He understood that if he waited for everything in a scene to be exactly right, he’d probably never even make a photograph. I was reminded of this recently. That truth hit me hard, because I know that paralysis well. The more I tried to control everything, the less space there was for freedom, play, or real creativity. I clung tighter and tighter until it felt like the sand just slipped through my hands.

Over the last few years, I’ve been actively untangling those beliefs. I’ve given myself permission to break the rules I once clung to, and it’s been liberating. Perfection never made me great; my presence did. Me being me. Presence is where the art actually lives. That shift has brought me into a new self-awareness and a deeper gratitude for my craft.

Today, I see photography as a legacy. I get to take photographs. I get to document and give back to this world through images that will live long after me. That awareness has given me a new light, a deeper self-acceptance, and a freedom that fuels my work. Moving past perfection has allowed me to step into truth, joy, and presence — and that’s the lesson I carry into every shoot.

Can you share a story from your journey that illustrates your resilience?

In 2019, I began the buildout of my first studio and community space. By January 1, 2020, I had the keys in hand, and by February, I was booked solid through July. It felt like a dream unfolding — and then COVID hit. Overnight, everything I had worked for in my career shifted. Rent wasn’t being made, bills were piling up, and I was faced with impossible decisions. I sold my house to gain more capital and get out of debt. Financial assistance kept me afloat for a while, but eventually it all ran out. I began dipping into my own personal savings just to keep the doors open. Two and a half years later, I had to face the hardest part — closing the business I had poured literal blood, sweat, tears, and everything I had into.

That time was deeply taxing on me — emotionally, financially, spiritually. No one really talks about what it feels like to shut a business down, only the highlight reels of opening one. I carried guilt, shame, and fear. I created so many scary stories in my mind, felt alone, and struggled to ask for support because I equated needing help with being a failure. I was running a hundred things and balancing seventeen plates at once just to survive. I told myself if I just kept going, it would work out. But it didn’t. And accepting that was the hardest pill to swallow. In the end, I had to pull the plug. I closed the space in 30 days and sold 95% of my belongings.

What followed was a real dark night of the soul. I was being evicted from my apartment. I could barely put gas in my car most weeks. My son and I moved out to my grandmother’s farm and lived with her for a year, commuting an hour back and forth to the city for work and school until I could rebuild enough to move back. It’s been three years since I closed those doors, and I’m still processing the grief — not only for myself, but for the community. That space wasn’t just mine; it was becoming a hub for collective healing. Losing it felt like I failed not only myself, but the beautiful people it was serving. That stung the most.

Another truth is that opening a studio and running a second event business in the same space snuffed out my creativity. I was so drained from daily operations that I didn’t feel like creating — and for me, that says a lot. Looking back, I can see that season taught me where my energy belongs and how precious it is to protect it.

What carried me through were the words of people I love. My mom told me, “You didn’t fail because you tried.” And a dear friend, VJ, said, “If this is what you created, think of what’s next.” Those words still echo in me today as I rebuild. Sometimes we have to lose it all to really see both sides of the pendulum. To know one is to know the other — and now I’m finding my center again.

In the end, I look back with forgiveness and gratitude for the giant lessons that time in entrepreneurship served me. What I learned was invaluable. Resilience doesn’t look like holding it all together — it looks like facing the collapse, learning from it, and finding a way to rise again. To me, resilience isn’t about having it all figured out. It’s about showing up, pivoting when needed, and trusting that every step — even the messy ones — is part of building something lasting. Looking back, I see that those uncertain years gave me the grit, creativity, and faith that still carry me through my work today. And ultimately, it’s made me a better business owner, creative, and a present human being — clearer on what I truly want, what I don’t, and how physical things do not get to dictate my own inner happiness.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.samanthalevi.com/
• Instagram: https://instagram.com/samstownusa
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/samanthalevi
• Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/samanthalevi/
• Other: https://samanthalevi.substack.com/

Image Credits

Bio Photo – Jeff Evrard
Portfolio – All images by me, Samantha Levi