The world of Formula 1 is a dizzying, multi-billion-dollar spectacle where speed, glamour, and high-stakes drama collide under the relentless glare of the global spotlight. For the privileged few who gain access to the inner sanctum—the paddock—it is a world of confined luxury, constant motion, and unwritten rules. Every minute of every race weekend, the sport’s superstars, the F1 drivers, are followed by a shadow army: the photographers tasked with capturing every fleeting moment, from the quiet intensity of preparation to the triumphant roar of victory.

But what is it really like to be on the other side of the lens? Do the F1 drivers, the epitome of cool under pressure, secretly resent this constant surveillance?

Veteran F1 photographer Kym Illman, who has spent approximately 750 days documenting the pinnacle of motorsport, offers an unprecedented and often startling look behind the velvet rope. The reality, he reveals, is a complex, delicate dance between necessity and intrusion, governed by respect, and increasingly complicated not by the media, but by the very people who claim to love the sport the most: the fans.

The Unspoken Code: When a Driver Says “No”

Illman’s work in the paddock is defined by proximity. It’s an environment where the professional relationship between the photographer and the subject is paramount. After years of working side-by-side, drivers know him, and he knows their boundaries. This familiarity has established an unspoken, professional code that is constantly tested but rarely broken.

The most sensitive area of this code involves the power dynamic of the deletion request. Illman confirms that, yes, he has been asked to take pictures down. These requests, he explains, don’t always stem from a driver disliking a shot’s quality. Sometimes, they are simply caught at a bad angle, or more significantly, the driver is engaged in an activity they need to keep confidential or private.

He recounts an incident where a driver, on an off-day at the track, was with a friend. After taking a few frames, the driver pleaded, “No Kim, no please,” prompting Illman to immediately stop shooting. The driver asked him not to post the pictures for a personal reason that was kept private. Illman, despite noting that other photographers were also capturing the scene, readily agreed. In another instance, a driver caught wearing an unusual “rig” for a team shoot came around a corner and immediately requested: “Look, can you please not use them, I don’t want to be seen wearing this thing.”

In both cases, and many others, Illman complies without hesitation. This isn’t just about good manners; it’s smart business. “I have to work with these people week in and week out and there’s no point in making enemies,” he states. For a full-time, dedicated F1 photographer, maintaining access and trust is the most valuable currency. A quick deletion is a small price to pay for sustained professional goodwill. The drivers understand that the majority of the media is there to do a job, and they appreciate the courtesy of discretion.

The New Paddock Enemy: Chaos and Contact

While photographers and drivers maintain a fragile professional equilibrium, the entire ecosystem of the F1 paddock has been fundamentally altered by the sheer volume of fans. Illman notes that capturing a “clean shot”—a driver moving without being obscured by a crowd—is becoming “increasingly more difficult.” Drivers are forced to race from Point A to Point B with hurried focus, unwilling to stand still and chat, a habit that legends like Sebastian Vettel (Seb) used to indulge in.

The real shift in hostility, Illman explains, is not aimed at the long-lensed cameras, but at the surging, often boundary-less crowds. The most shocking revelation concerns an incident involving Daniel Ricciardo at the Austin Grand Prix. While Ricciardo was conversing in the paddock, a fan launched herself at him in a moment of pure, screaming frenzy.

“This girl just came racing up screaming ‘Daniel, Daniel, Daniel,’ and just grabbed him for a photo, physically grabbed him,” Illman recalls. This level of physical intrusion is a profound violation of a driver’s personal space, highlighting the escalating danger of the F1 celebrity bubble. Ricciardo, quite rightly, established a boundary, telling her, “No, I’ll be with you in a moment,” and making her wait. This pivotal moment underscores that today, the true source of stress and intrusion for F1 drivers is not the professional media, but the emotional, often reckless, enthusiasm of the crowds.

The Personality Spectrum: Who Hides and Who Flaunts

Illman provides a fascinating, unfiltered roll call of the current grid, detailing their photographic personalities.

The Aloof and the Hidden: The most challenging driver to photograph, according to Illman, is the seven-time world champion Lewis Hamilton. He has adopted strategies to bypass the media scrum entirely. He “taken to going back routes behind hospitality suites,” Illman reveals, allowing him to get to his destination faster and avoid both photographers and cameramen. While Hamilton’s highly-publicized fashion choices once made him easier to shoot, his current deliberate evasion speaks volumes about the level of privacy he now seeks. Similarly, the Aston Martin duo, Fernando Alonso and Lance Stroll, are described as “pretty aloof.” Stroll, in particular, has “not much interest in the cameras.” They are often the last to arrive and simply matter-of-factly make their way through the throng.

The Engaging and the Sponsor-Focused: On the opposite end of the spectrum are the drivers who use the cameras to their advantage, often to serve their sponsors. George Russell and Kimi Antonelli exemplify this pragmatic approach. Illman recalls Russell once stopping specifically to say, “Look Kim, got a new watch, get a shot of this.” Antonelli did the same with sunglasses. This collaboration provides drivers’ valuable coverage for their endorsement partners, a crucial aspect of their commercial portfolio, and gives the photographers an easy, high-value shot.

The Enthusiasts and the Joys: The majority of the grid are “great” to work with. Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri are lauded as excellent subjects who “go about their business” and “aren’t bothered at all.” Charles Leclerc is called “a joy to photograph” and is even better with the fans. Esteban Ocon holds the title of “the friendliest of the drivers,” often waving and smiling at the wall of waiting photographers. New drivers like Oliver Bearman and Liam Lawson are predictably enthusiastic about the attention, with Lawson loving to show off his chocolate sponsor. Even drivers known for their intensity, such as Max Verstappen, can be strategically shot; he often arrives late to the track, when fewer media are present to greet him, making a clean shot more achievable.

The Unexpected Star: When Partners Outshine Drivers

In a stunning reflection of modern media consumption, Illman reveals that the most popular and high-performing content he produces does not feature the F1 drivers themselves. It features their girlfriends and partners.

Posts featuring the partners of F1 stars—names like Alexandra, Rebecca, and Maggie—regularly generate astonishing engagement. Illman notes that a post with a driver and their girlfriend “will often do two, three, four, five times as many views as a picture without them.” He cites a single shot of Maggie (presumably Maggie Keane, the partner of Max Verstappen) that garnered some two million views, a number that would be “very rare for a picture of a driver to do anything like those numbers.”

This data exposes a powerful truth about social media in the F1 world: the audience is hungry for human connection, lifestyle content, and the personal stories that transcend lap times and championships. The partners, often style icons and influential figures in their own right, provide that essential humanizing element. They are the new, unexpected content kingmakers of the paddock.

However, this popularity comes with a toxic downside. Illman laments that a “small section of very vocal fans” has directed intense hate towards these women. These critics, driven by an exclusionary idea that social media should “be just about the drivers,” bombard the posts with negativity. The very success that makes these pictures valuable content also makes the partners targets for online abuse, exposing the ugly underbelly of the sport’s most passionate fanbase.

The Business of Intrusion and Integrity

Illman’s work extends far beyond social media popularity; he manages commercial obligations and complex ethical lines. He frequently conducts private, brief shoots for sponsors who need high-quality images of drivers wearing their products—whether a Motorola phone or a Gerard Perregaux watch. These shoots are typically short—a maximum of two minutes in the paddock, or ten to fifteen minutes away from the track—reflecting the demanding schedule of the F1 elite.

He also runs a highly popular Instagram feature called “Men and Women of the Paddock,” showcasing the style and characters of those working at the race. The popularity of this feature has led to unusual ethical dilemmas. He has been offered “quite a lot of money at times” by fans hoping to guarantee their inclusion in the coveted posts. He’s also had “influential people in the paddock” try to pull strings to get friends featured. Illman maintains the integrity of the series by resisting these attempts at paid influence.

Perhaps the most compelling story of ethical complexity involves the simple act of deleting a photo upon request. Illman was once contacted by a person claiming to be in his “Women of the Paddock” series, demanding the photo be taken down. He complied, only to be immediately messaged by the actual woman in the photo, who was furious that her picture—which she loved—had been removed. A rival had falsely claimed the identity. This incident taught him a valuable lesson: “Now when somebody asks for a pic to be deleted I always make sure that the person asking is indeed the person in the picture.” This need for verification highlights the constant battle against impersonation and digital fraud in the high-stakes content economy of F1.

Finally, the paddock is also a celebrity magnet, and Illman’s role involves capturing major stars who are guests of F1 or its teams. F1 provides a “talent sheet,” but he often relies on his own contacts to photograph guests like the musician Will.i.am and actor Will Arnett, confirming that, in the rarefied air of the paddock, even global stars are simply part of the day’s work.

The F1 paddock, as described by Kym Illman, is not a simple, glamorous waiting area; it is a complex, high-pressure micro-society where every smile, every averted glance, and every hurried step is a captured moment. The drivers, while accommodating professionals, are constantly searching for fleeting moments of privacy. The media operates within a strict framework of respect and business needs. And the fans, for all their passion, have created the greatest logistical and physical challenges, inadvertently pushing the stars they admire to seek out the quiet, hidden back routes of the circuit. Illman’s account is a vital, eye-opening dispatch from the front lines of one of the world’s most photographed sports, revealing the human drama unfolding just beyond the reach of the cheering grandstands.