A Quiet Studio Afternoon with Amy James Kelly

I remember when Amy walked into the studio, it was our third session together, and there was this odd familiarity in the air, like meeting someone you’ve known just long enough to skip the small talk but not long enough to assume you know them. There’s a rhythm that develops between photographer and subject in that space, a sort of understated dialogue that has nothing to do with words and everything to do with listening.

Amy — @amyjames_kelly on Instagram — has this sort of presence that doesn’t fill the room so much as sit comfortably within it. She’s been on screens you might recognise: from her early days on Coronation Street to roles in Safe, Gentleman Jack, The Bay and beyond. More recently you might catch her in Everyone Else Burns or her portrayal of Anne Boleyn in Blood, Sex & Royalty — all of which she’s shared glimpses of on her feed, where she mixes moments of daily life with snapshots of her work and a bit of gentle humour.

That afternoon in Manchester, the light was studio soft, intentional, not chasing anything dramatic or loud. We weren’t wrestling with props or outfits or themes. It was simple: ash white walls, a single softbox, and a few chairs pulled in and out of frame. There’s something about simplicity that, to be honest, can make things feel harder than a full production. But that’s the point, it leaves room for presence.

I asked Amy early on how she was feeling about being back in front of the camera. Her reply was something like, “I’m ready, let’s just see what happens.” It wasn’t a performance, but a kind of grounded readiness I see in people who are no strangers to this work. She’s been professional every single time I’ve worked with her, and this session was no different. Not in a stiff way, but in a way that’s quietly assured: she knows what she’s building toward, and she shows up for it without theatrics.

There was a stretch where we just let the session breathe. No instructions. Just a gentle tilt of the head this way, a shift of weight that felt real, not rehearsed. We’d glance at the back of the camera, say something small like “that feels good,” and then settle back into it. The hour didn’t feel rushed, even though it was. I think that’s partly why I like these moments. there’s a kind of mild suspense in simplicity, a sense that whatever happens next has to matter because there’s nothing to fall back on.

I’m always curious about how people inhabit stillness in a portrait. With Amy, it wasn’t about striking poses so much as being present with the quiet confidence she brings. You sense it in the way she holds her gaze, and it’s something that doesn’t need exaggeration. She’s navigated a range of roles with subtlety. from soap beginnings to complex characters on major screens, and that sensitivity translates when she’s simply being herself in front of the lens.

I think that’s the thread I want to leave you with: a portrait isn’t an event, it’s a moment folded into a larger story. This session wasn’t about capturing a headline or a highlight reel. It was about being in the room, observing the quiet exchange between light, subject, and whatever it is that draws a person into focus. And in that quiet — Amy’s calm professionalism, the soft studio light, the pause between frames — there’s a kind of clarity that doesn’t need to shout.