Why Real Family Photography Just Hits Different

Look, I get it—when people think about “family photos,” they usually picture matching outfits, forced smiles, and one poor kid melting down while Mom bribes everyone with cookies. We’ve all been there. But let me tell you something real: those stiff, overly posed photos are not the ones you’ll reach for in twenty years. You know which ones you will? The ones where your kid is mid-laugh, your partner is brushing hair out of your face, or your toddler is half-naked and covered in marker because they “helped decorate.” Those are the good ones. That’s real life.

And that’s what I photograph.

My family sessions are about capturing how your life feels—not just what it looks like. I want you in cozy clothes, in your own space (or one that feels like you), doing something you actually enjoy together. Bake some cookies, build a fort, let your dog crash the shot. Hell, drink a glass of wine while your kids climb you like a jungle gym. It’s all welcome here.

Of course I’ll get a few “smile and look here” photos—because yes, Grandma still wants one for the fridge—but those aren’t the star of the show. What I’m chasing is the moment in between. The way your son still grabs your pinky when he’s nervous. The way your baby belly gets smooshed when your toddler sits on your lap. The way you and your partner still crack each other up, even with a diaper in one hand and cold coffee in the other.

Posed photos can be beautiful. But they don’t tell the full story. They don’t remind you what this season of life felt like—how fast it was, how messy, how precious. Real, documentary-style photography gives you something way more magical than just “pretty.” It gives you truth. And trust me, that’s the stuff you’ll want to remember when the house is quiet and the toys are all packed away.

I also shoot this way because—let’s be honest—posing for 60 minutes is a terrible idea when kids are involved. They’re not models. They’re wiggly, snack-demanding, noise-making chaos goblins and I love them for it. So instead of yelling at them to “just smile,” I say: let them play. Let them be kids. I’ll meet them right where they are, camera in hand, ready to catch the giggles, the tantrums, and the sweet, fleeting moments in between.

So yeah, you could do the matchy-matchy, formal photo thing—and there’s nothing wrong with that. But if you want the kind of images that feel like home, like you, like a perfectly imperfect moment frozen in time? That’s where I come in.