I’m a strong believer in photos.

Obviously, as it’d be silly to be in a line of work that I don’t even back.

But, really, I’m a strong believer of the power of photographs. They way they effortlessly hold a memory near and dear. The way they offer a story, a conversation. We live in a strangely digital world where we know more about some stranger’s eating habits than we do about our own family history. And I guess that’s fine; it’s a sign of the times. But there’s something in the tangible, touchable, frameable, seeable power of a real, printed photograph that captures me every time.

See, photographs aren’t for the people actually present in the moment. Rather, they are for those who aren’t. They are for the daughter to have a remembrance of a time when her mother carried her in the womb. They are for the son to show his kids one day about how they look just like grandma and grandpa. They are for the future, to hold a piece of the past.

There is no wrong time to make time for a photograph. For a family session. For a time to capture the days that seem to slip through our fingers oh, so quickly.

No one ever regrets taking the morning off to spend a few measly minutes with their family instead of working. Smiling, laughing, creating an heirloom to enjoy for years and years.

So…yeah…I’m a strong believer in photos.

Share: