Documentary family photography tells your real story, memorializing the things that matter most to you. It is a gift to yourself and a gift to your children, as they’ll be able to look back and remember their family at one moment in time. The portrait of the family has its place and is important, but after a documentary family session, I would bet that the ones you print are the ones that remind you how you felt in that moment: Messy, unconditionally loved, and perfectly imperfect.
You’ve seen the photo - a beautiful family in matching outfits on the beach at sunset, everyone made up to look their absolute best. There’s nothing simple about getting a photo like this; the precise time of day is chosen so the light rims everyone’s perfectly coiffed hair while illuminating their faces to be at their most winsome; Wind gently sweeps in to billow the carefully coordinated clothing that surely doesn’t exhibit pinstripes or tiny designs; The ocean reflects an idyllic sky behind an empty beach in what appears to be paradise. This photograph is made, not taken. Hundreds of images of this family changing positions, locations and angles were captured to ensure eyes were open, hands were correct, clothing looked good, and the littlest of the bunch was actually looking at the camera. Then a great deal of post-production is involved to remove background people and objects, layer different exposures, and tone the scene - namely mask out what’s unwanted and enhance what’s beautiful.
What you get from this process is a perfect image of a family looking perfect and acting perfect. It’s stunning, but it’s not real. After this photo shoot, the family will wipe their faces, gather their items, pull their unyielding children into a car, likely resulting in loud demands for snacks and likely some tears. What if the photographer kept shooting? Imagine she followed that family into the car and took images as the kids calmed down, one sang songs while another dozed off. She stayed with them as they arrived home and made dinner, she photographed the children as they played games that made them laugh and scream, moments heard from the other room but never actually witnessed by an onlooking adult. She shot images of them jumping on the bed telling each other secrets and feeding dinner to their stuffed animals; What if she captured that rare smirk that the middle child makes that’s his dad’s favorite, and there was suddenly evidence of the eldest caring for her siblings in a way the parents had never observed. And as the family readied for bedtime, everyone’s favorite part of the day, all of them piled into one bed to read their favorite story - how might they feel if they had that memory to put on their wall?
