How I Photograph the Spirit of Family

There’s a kind of magic that happens when you stop trying to control the moment and simply let it be.

When I walk into a family gathering, I don’t start by posing anyone. I start by watching. I look for conversations, for laughter rising from a couch in the corner, for hands held quietly between generations. I pay attention to who’s being expressive, who’s welcoming someone at the door, and who’s sharing a piece of themselves they may not even realize is visible. These are the images that matter most to me—the ones where no one knows I’m looking. I’ve always loved being a fly on the wall during moments like these. It’s how I catch kids giggling as they chase bubbles or splash in a pool. It’s how I witness the natural joy that unfolds when people are simply being themselves. Sure, I’ll gently pose a few portraits when the light is right and the moment calls for it, but my favorite images are the ones that feel like life, not a photoshoot. From the birthday parties I’ve photographed, the moment that always moves me is when the candles are lit and the whole room begins to sing “Happy Birthday.” It’s the celebration everyone came for and yet it feels so tender. All eyes are on the birthday child, but I’m looking around the room too: the parents smiling softly, a grandparent wiping a tear, the joy echoing through every voice. That’s the kind of moment I want to preserve forever. At a recent 70th wedding anniversary, I was lucky enough to witness something sacred. The couple stood together, admiring the cake their family made just for them. Their hands were intertwined. Their eyes misted with gratitude. It wasn’t a loud or showy scene. It was soft, quiet, and full of a love that only time can shape. And I was there, holding space for it with my camera. Sometimes, it feels like I can read the room. Like I know when something is about to happen. I stay still, watchful, trusting my intuition to guide me. Not every shot lines up perfectly, and I don’t always catch it the first time. But I keep paying attention, because moments have a way of returning when you’re patient enough to notice them. When I’m in that space surrounded by kind strangers who’ve welcomed me into their day…I feel at ease. My body feels calm, my mind clear. I know I’m doing what I’m meant to do. And I feel so grateful to be there, documenting moments that matter. I often think about the people in these images ten, twenty, even seventy years from now. About the granddaughter who might one day see her younger self wrapped in her grandfather’s arms. About the parent who forgot just how full and joyful these days were, until they hold a photo in their hands. These small, fleeting moments are the ones that become the legacy. And I feel honored to catch them while they’re still alive and unfolding. If you’re looking for someone to photograph your family honestly and with care, I’d be so grateful to help tell your story—just as it is.