What I wish every family knew
After twenty-something years of photographing families, there are a handful of things I find myself saying again and again at the start of a session. None of them are on any website, including, until now, mine.
The child who hates having their photo taken usually produces the best image of the day.
Always. I don’t know why this is true, but it’s true. The one who runs in pretending to gag at the camera and refuses to sit down for the first twenty minutes is the one I’ll be sending you, two weeks later, in a photograph their mother cries at. So if you’re worried because you have one of those at home, please don’t be. Bring them. They’re going to be the star.
The parents who arrive most nervous about it always laugh hardest by the end.
Most families walk in slightly braced for something. They’ve dressed up, they’ve talked the children into it, they’re slightly worried it’s going to be awkward. About fifteen minutes in, when everyone’s forgotten the camera is there and the dog has flopped on someone’s foot, the mum usually turns to me and says some version of “this is actually really nice.” That’s the moment I’m waiting for.
The dog is the most important member of the family on the day.
I’m not joking. If the dog is settled, everyone else relaxes. If the dog is anxious, the children pick up on it and the whole afternoon takes twice as long to land. So bring the dog properly, with their bed and their favourite biscuit and whatever it is they need to feel at home. The studio is set up for it.
The portrait you’ll love most in ten years won’t be the one you choose first.
At the reveal, most families fall hard for the big group portrait, everyone together, everyone looking. And it’s lovely. But the photograph that ends up mattering most, the one you find yourself touching as you walk past it in the hallway, is almost always the quiet one. Just your child looking out of frame. Just you and your partner. Just the dog. I always gently suggest people include one of those, even if they’re tempted to spend the whole budget on the big piece.
You don’t need to lose half a stone first.
I’m saying it because every other week someone tells me about how much they’d love to have this portrait done but they want to wait until they’ve lost some weight, finished a course of skincare, grown their hair out. Please don’t. The portrait isn’t of the version of you that exists in six months. It’s of the version your family already loves, today, exactly as you are.
It always feels like too soon, until suddenly it’s too late.
Most of the families I photograph have been thinking about it for two or three years before they finally book. That’s normal. But the children in those portraits will only be the age they are now for the next few months. The dog is only here for the years she’s here. The grandparents only have so many summers. There’s no perfect moment, only this one.
That’s really what I wish every family knew before their session.
If any of this has felt like it was written for you, I’d love to hear from you.
— Sarah
