As a photographer, I spend most of my days creating images for other people. Lately, I’ve realized that some of the photographs that mean the most to me are the ones I’m making of my own family.
Like everyone else, I could take hundreds of pictures of my kids on my phone. Instead, I’ve started bringing my Mamiya 645 along and concentrating on just a few moments. Film forces me to slow down. There’s no endless burst of frames, no looking at the back of the camera, no taking another twenty just to make sure. I have to watch, wait, and decide when something is worth a frame.
And I think that’s what I love about it.
My kids are growing incredibly fast. A summer afternoon swimming at the farm in Pennsylvania, standing on the edge of a baseball field, a day at the beach, or just the four of them being themselves—these ordinary moments don’t feel particularly important while they’re happening. Then you get a roll of film back months later and realize how much has already changed.
This work has become a kind of retrospective on our life while we’re still living it. It’s less about documenting everything and more about choosing the moments I want to remember.
Maybe twenty years from now, these will be the most important photographs I ever made.