welcome

My mom did an excellent job of documenting my childhood. When I say excellent, what I mean is, I literally have 25 scrapbooks cataloging, photographically, my life from the time I was born all the way through my four college soccer seasons.

When you walk through my front door, you’ll more than likely be greeted by a shy (at first) two-year-old, a rambunctious five-year-old who will be determined to know everything about you in the span of thirty seconds, and a three-year-old chocolate lab mix who will do her best not to knock you over and kiss your face all at the same time.

I feel like a lot of what I’ve written about documentary family photography so far is about remembering the magic of childhood. And I totally believe that photographs should document that: they should visually articulate this new bond between parents and their young children, siblings at a young age, and spouses growing together.

I have photographed the Nichols family more than any other family, maybe even my own. They are those faithful kind of clients that are better in real life than any client I could have imagined. 

They understand my logistical process of a photoshoot, but more than that, they understand why I shoot the way I do.

Ever since I became a mom almost 7 years ago, I have been obsessively photographing my girls. But it wasn’t until after the birth of my third daughter, when I was hit with postpartum depression, that I discovered the void photography filled in my life.

Sometimes I wish I could smell a photo. Is that weird? I think that’s weird. But sometimes just seeing something doesn’t cut it. When I look at an older photo, I want to remember how it smelled. Nostalgia is a strong feeling, but it’s often evoked by our more subtle senses: a sound or a smell.