When someone sits across from me for a portrait, I’m asking for trust. I had known Craig Logan for a few years through his work at the Charleston Metro Chamber of Commerce, and from the start, his energy invited real conversation. He had my trust immediately. I’d wanted to photograph him for some time, and when I got him into my studio, I saw someone who carries the kind of charisma that fills a room and makes you feel safe enough to tell him anything. Except, surprisingly, I eventually learned that he considers himself an introvert, like me.

Craig once received a compliment that lingers with him: people have lauded his natural ability to earn trust and facilitate meaningful connections. He doesn’t take that lightly. “I try to be mindful of that and use it in my work,” he told me. “In advocacy, you’re talking about tough issues, speaking to change or persuade or inform others’ opinions. That trust allows me to do more meaningful work.”

A simple philosophy guides him: If not you, then who? If not now, then when?

You won’t catch him waiting on perfection or for someone else to step up. When he first joined the Chamber, he admitted the map forward was unclear. That’s when our mutual colleague Richard Waring nudged him with some advice that’s always stuck with him: make it what you want it to be.

“Richard told me, ‘Just start,’” Craig recalled. “So I did. I knew these five people, and they cared deeply about attainable housing. I brought them together and trusted the rest to unfold. You build a movement without even realizing it. You just schedule a meeting, gather people, and the rest happens.”

It mirrors my own craft in a way. When I photograph someone, especially someone nervous (and truthfully, I’m usually more nervous), the key lies in starting. Find the light. Find something to love. Lift the camera. Allow space for mistakes. Enjoy it. Once I just start, authentic expressions usually tumble out, and they did for Craig.

When he told me he considers himself an introvert, I raised an eyebrow. “At the core, I am,” he affirmed. “You need extroverted skills in your job and profession, but after conferences or speaking to a group, I need to step away and recharge.”

I nodded. I know that rhythm well, but I push into social events and even into these Kind Light conversations because they challenge and enlighten me. I love every second of every shoot no matter what my fight or flight instinct tells me. I’ve watched Craig stand in front of a room with commanding presence, and I admire the genuine confidence he carries. I asked him how he flips that switch.

“It depends what you’re speaking on,” he said. “If the topic sits close to your heart, then it’s passion work. Passion work is also hard work, but it feels natural to talk about housing, for example, because I’ve seen the impact of inadequate housing on families and communities. I want people to feel what I feel about the subject. I want them to understand why it matters and where the root issues lie.”

That word, feel, is one I always return to in my photography and creative work. A portrait should never flatten simply into light, angle, and a canned smile. Whoever looks at it should feel something. It should help the person in the photo feel seen. I want an image to carry the same weight as someone’s story. Craig embodies that idea because he makes people lean in and feel the significance of an issue experienced by real people in a community.

He credits family for shaping that presence. The youngest of four, Craig grew up surrounded by siblings, nieces, nephews, and now even great-nieces who remind him daily of his purpose. 

His father modeled discipline: set a goal, work it through, check it off, and move to the next. His mother, an educator of more than 25 years, poured her energy into youth development, often introducing students as her “other sons.” Craig has witnessed firsthand how showing up for people leaves lifelong impact.

“My mom doesn’t know a stranger. At the grocery store, I learned to build in an extra fifteen minutes because she’d stop and talk with three or four people whether she knew them or not,” he reminisced. “Watching that taught me something: you never know the next person’s story. Always try to be kind. Move with an open, nonjudgmental mindset. Listen to understand, not to respond.”

Growing up in Greenwood, South Carolina, Craig lived the kind of childhood that now feels almost mythic. “Summers meant staying outside until the streetlights came on,” he said. “My best friend lived across the street, my grandma stayed next door. We’d ride bikes, pack snacks, explore the woods, and drink water from the hose.”

I smiled, remembering my own “xenial” childhood; a slice of magical time reserved for that tiny micro-generation between Gen X and Millennials. We roamed without phones or social media, our worlds defined by bikes, tree forts, foot races, and the handful of friends who mattered most. We didn’t need to prove ourselves online. Our own little worlds felt enough.

That freedom—to grow up as a kid without adult expectations—shapes the kind of confidence that lets you embrace yourself as you are.

“Self-love is the best love,” he told me. “When I started losing my hair in my twenties, I had to face it. My dad still has a full head of hair, my brothers have braids and locs, and I thought, why me? Eventually I shaved it, and now I can’t imagine myself any other way. If you can’t love and accept yourself, you’ll fight a losing battle waiting for the world to accept you.”

Every person who steps into my studio carries their own version of that struggle. Insecurities surface the second I show them the lens. Craig’s story reminds me that portraits aren’t about erasing those insecurities; they’re about embracing the truth of who we are and seeing the beauty in it.

That belief has carried into Craig’s career since it began. Fresh out of college, he spent eight years with Metanoia, a nonprofit organization defined by its community-based leadership and goals in North Charleston, working in their Youth Leadership Development Program. He was only twenty-one, still navigating his own life, but he poured into building relationships with young people.

“Now they’re getting married and having kids, and they still call me Mr. Craig.” He smiled. “We grew up together, and so it’s cool to know that your decisions, your choices, the things that you did were actually meaningful to a young person and helped contribute to who they are today.”

As our conversation wound down, I realized how much of Craig’s philosophy overlaps with what I try to do with a camera. He doesn’t chase perfection. He steps in and starts something. He doesn’t demand trust; he earns it. He works to build confidence in others regardless of the struggles they carry. Even as an introvert, he pushes himself to show up with a presence that fills a room, because he believes in the work.

“If not you, then who? If not now, then when?” he asks. Those words stick less like a mantra and more like an open invitation to neighbors, colleagues, young people, or, in this case, to me.

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Kind Light Charleston is an emerging professional headshot and personal portrait photography studio based in Charleston, South Carolina. I’m always looking for people to highlight in my blog, so if you know someone who shines a kind light in this world, I want to meet them! Reach out to josh@kindlightcharleston.com.