A Family Story

The word family means something different to everyone who hears it. Mine is blended and if I were documenting it (and I do) the photos would include my two sons, their fathers, a gaggle of grandparents and a handful of close friends I’m lucky enough to consider a part of it all. I’m sure yours is different, and though this isn’t a particularly political blog, I will say that I fully support your right to create your family any way you see fit. I’m certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that there can’t be too much love in this world. I’m fascinated by all the ways families come to be. My life has been changed by witnessing the selflessness of people who care for infants before they have been placed with their forever homes. Still more people I hold dear have chosen to build their families through surrogacy and adoption. When it’s all said and done and a family is created it’s a beautiful messy joyous thing—and that’s what I love best about documenting it. Every family has a dynamic and if I’ve captured a little bit of yours—if I’ve told some of your story—It’s a pretty great thing.

Kids with Kids

I live and work in a small town. It’s the kind of place where you can’t make a quick trip to the store in your pajamas if you don’t want to run into one or six people you know. (If you know me, you’ll also know that being seen in my pajamas in town isn’t something I wrestle too much with myself about.) It’s the kind of place where shopkeepers ask after your family and know how you like your coffee. If you’re a photographer who specializes in kids (and have two in local schools) and spend an afternoon at the children’s bookstore (which is the sort of place that invites baby goats from a local farm in for story time) you’re likely to know a majority of the children by name.

I love all these things about this small town.