In this episode of Driver's Seat, Lex Borrero sits down with photographer Bart Kuykens in Miami for a conversation about cars, cameras, watches, tattoos, and the emotional weight of preserving a moment. The title is about Porsche, but the episode is really about why some objects feel timeless: they carry memory, taste, imperfection, and personal identity all at once.
Bart is known for photographing Porsche culture in a way that feels less like product imagery and more like portraiture. That distinction matters. He did not begin with the goal of becoming a car photographer. He saw himself as a portrait photographer first. After years of books, film, and black-and-white images, he admits that cars became part of the work, but the human story never left the frame.
The first camera
When Lex usually asks guests about their first watch, he changes the question for Bart: what was the first camera? Bart remembers a Pentax analog camera from his father, an amateur photographer who used to make him pose in the garden as a kid. The camera disappeared for a while, then came back into his life when photography became more serious.
That analog origin still shapes the work. Bart explains that when he frames a picture, he looks for layers. The first layer might be the subject, the second might be the car, and the third might be the city or environment behind them. Those layers give the image depth, context, and a sense of where the story is happening. In Miami, that means using the skyline, the light, and the car together instead of treating the Porsche as a separate object.
That approach is why his Porsche photography feels different. The car is important, but it is not the only subject. The image is about the moment around it.
Why film still matters
Bart says his path into Porsche photography happened almost accidentally. He started by photographing friends, then made a book, and one book led to another. What made the work recognizable was the decision to stay close to analog film, especially black and white. In recent years he has also shot color and occasional digital work when clients need speed, but film remains the passion.
That choice is not nostalgia for its own sake. Film changes the pace. It asks the photographer to commit before seeing the result, to live with imperfection, and to treat the image as something physical. It also matches the way Bart thinks about vintage cars. A classic Porsche is not interesting because it is flawless. It is interesting because it carries time visibly.
Lex connects that to watches, cars, and even tattoos. A photograph captures a feeling from a specific day. A watch can mark a life chapter. A car can make you wonder who first walked into the dealership and said, "I finally made it." Bart's tattoos work the same way. Some still make sense, some raise questions, but all of them belong to the person he became.
Vintage over new
One of the strongest parts of the episode is Bart's explanation of why new Porsches often do not feel like him. He has bought modern cars and felt the excitement fade after a few weeks. The cars were objectively good, but they did not reflect his personality. A vintage 912 does something different. People ask about the color, the year, the story, whether they can sit in it or take a picture. The car opens a conversation.
Lex relates immediately. He talks about chasing a GT3 Touring and realizing that even an incredible car can fail to feel personal. His older cars, especially the ones with color, age, and a little contradiction, say more about what he loves. They embody creativity, vintage culture, and a time when design felt less optimized and more daring.
That does not mean newer cars are worse. It means the right car has to speak in the owner's language. For Bart, that language is older, more analog, and more connected to memory.
Legacy over empire
When Lex asks what Bart wants his legacy to be, the answer is not an empire. Bart talks about his two kids and the example he wants to leave them: follow your passion, do the work your own way, and build something they can someday open, look through, and understand. He wants them to see the books and feel that their father did something real.
That same instinct appears in the watches he bought for them. Bart purchased Rolex Explorer watches to keep for his sons, not because he expects the pieces to become huge investments, but because they can become objects with a story attached. His children can wear them, store them, or even sell them later, but the intention is already inside the watches.
That is the emotional center of the episode. The objects matter because they hold decisions. A camera from a father. A Porsche that feels more honest than the new one. A tattoo from a particular season. A watch waiting for a child to grow into it.
The Porsche that started it
Bart remembers seeing a 993 4S when he was 17 or 18 and thinking that the person driving it had made it. For him, the rear of that car remains one of the most beautiful Porsche forms ever made. Over time, his taste changed. For years he considered the 964 the holy grail, then found himself growing into the 993 and later wanting cars to be more stock after a period of outlaw influence.
That evolution is part of the story. Taste changes because people change. Bart once loved modifying cars after being inspired by outlaw Porsche culture. Later, he found himself wanting originality, simplicity, and a different kind of restraint. Lex recognizes the tension between art and commerce, especially now that older Porsches have become valuable enough to make every modification feel like a financial decision.
But the artistic urge remains. A car can be a reflection of self, even when the market tries to turn it into an asset. That conflict is exactly why these conversations matter.
Porsche through his lens
The hot seat at the end says a lot in a few answers. Bart chooses Cartier over Rolex, 993 over 964, Ferrari over Porsche, Miami over Stuttgart, and LA over Miami. The answers are quick, but they fit the larger portrait: he is not trying to be the obvious Porsche guy. He is a photographer, a collector, a father, and an artist whose work happens to make Porsche culture feel deeply human.
That is why his photographs endure. They are not only about the car in front of the lens. They are about the life around it, the person beside it, the place holding it, and the moment that would otherwise pass without being seen.
In Driver's Seat, the camera becomes another kind of vehicle. It takes the viewer into Bart's way of seeing, where Porsche is not just performance or status. It is memory, identity, and a story still being written in light.
