That one hug you forgot about - Vancouver family photographer

Grandma feeds her grandchildren strawberries. Oslo. 

To explain documentary photography I only have to ask you to reflect on your own life. For the purposes of this blog, let’s take a day. Your day. You get up in the morning, you feed your kids, you make lunches, go to work, stay at home, play with your kids, do the shopping and laundry, make dinner, put kids to bed, clean. These are your tasks during the day. You likely have some you touch on every single day, and because you do them all the time, you remember them.

Now I want you to remember the moments in between your tasks. The time your 4 year old came into the kitchen and asked for a hug in the middle of doing dishes. The time your 2 year old threw a tantrum and stuck her hand down her soiled diaper. The time all your kids were lying on top of  you on the floor while you read a book. The time you got splashed with so much water from the bathtub you had to change. The time your kids drew cars on the wall. The time your kid completed the puzzle by himself for the first time.

Those are the building blocks of your life. Those are the moments you’ll want to remember, the moments that happen on most days in one form or another, but get drowned out by the tasks that fill the days of parents. 

That’s what I want to capture for you. Those moments in between that we so often are too busy to see, or remember or even be present enough to experience. Those moments that make parenting worthwhile and challenging. Those moments are not made on a beach at sunset in perfect light with matching clothes. Those moments are made in your home, at all times of the day, in all types of light.

I don’t stage. I don’t move things. I don’t ask you to do things, smile, or perform in any way. I just merely exist in your space for a day, equipped only with a camera and a unique skillset I have to capture these things for you as they happen, no matter the light or clothes. I make your everyday look beautiful, even when it's not. I have spent 20 years with a camera in my hand, 15 of those I have been paid to do exactly this: record reality. Capture history. Now I want to do that for you, in your home. And then I want to see those images in an album. 

Family albums are my favourite thing. They bond people. I can just picture my kids running off when they’re old enough, shaping their own identities, growing fully into their own. I want them to have family albums to look through when they come home. I want them to know and remember where they came from, and how much love, joy and hard work that went into getting them there. I want them to know their childhood. So I photograph. Obsessively. And then I put those pictures into albums. So they can see who we were as a family before time broke us apart. And hopefully, by the time they have kids of their own, they’ll come back to me. 

That is what I do. That is documentary photography. Life. Just as it is in all it’s perfect imperfections.

Now I want you to reflect on what an album like this could mean to your family. Your everyday, your life. It's fleeting, it goes by fast, and you'll never get it back. 

A boy helps his mother write down the family recipes