The first part of decorating for Christmas, at least in my house, is putting up the tree.
We bring everything down from the attic, struggle with the lights (why do they not always all work at the same time?), and then decorate the tree. Garland(s) first, then the ornaments.
Each ornament I unwrap comes with memories and emotions attached to it.
The ones I bought myself, the ones my husband loves, the ones we bought together. Then there are the ones I’ve been given, the ones I made as a child, the ones that remind me of relatives, and the newer ones that are for my children.
The Photographs That Tell Our Story
After the tree comes other decorations, including framed photographs of Christmases past.
There’s one of me in front of my grandparents’ tree, with shoulder-length hair and a turtleneck. Then there’s my husband and I in front of the Christmas tree in Washington D.C., taken a couple of years before we were married.
Then there’s our first family Christmas pictures with our oldest, most memorably with Krampus and then Santa Claus (at 3 months old, she wasn’t happy about either of them).
There’s so many more that I don’t have that I wish I did, of my parents and my sisters when we were all still in the house together. Of family card games after the meal at my grandparents’ house.
Of us playing dominos at my other grandparents’ house.
Of all the smiles and laughter and well wishes. I wish I had these moments to help remember those fine details, but also to hand down to my children so they can know what the holidays used to look like.
Because even while they’re not that different today from what they used to be, they’re not the same.
The Legacy We Choose to Create
I’m intent on creating a better legacy for my children than what I already have. Small moments, big moments. Not just holiday moments, but everyday moments.
I’m building a photographic legacy. And not just one about the holidays.
It’s a visual narrative that tells the story of you. And if you wish it, the stories of others.
What does your legacy look like?
A photographic legacy makes your memories real.
It documents the highs and lows, the personal and professional.
The Journey of Self-Representation
I thought I knew what mine was like until I actually started going through all of my photos. And as a photographer, I have so, SO many photos.
Mostly, they’ve been of places, things, or other people. People I love, for sure, but other people, not me.
Selfies weren’t a thing like they are now back when I started in photography. I didn’t like to see myself in photos and thought it didn’t matter that I wasn’t in them.
But as I’ve started to take more selfies and see myself more in imagery, I’ve learned just how much I was missing by not being in those earlier photos, or by making faces at the camera because I was attempting to mask my discomfort.
You can see the switch happen while I’m away at college.
I started to understand just how important it is to be in photographs and not just because my mom wanted me to.
I started to show up for family and friends, but most importantly, for myself. It doesn’t mean that I always enjoyed seeing myself in pictures, but it does mean I had started on that journey to self-realization.
Do I wish I had chosen better clothes to wear? Or that I had put a bit more effort into taming my hair?
Sure thing. But that’s the me today putting restrictions on me back then.
That expression of myself was true for me then, just as today’s imagery is true for me now.
It makes you wonder what my imagery will look like in 5 or 10 years or even 30.
What kind of space will I take up in that imagery? What kind of person will I be?
And that’s really the most important part, isn’t it? Understanding that there’s a storytelling arc in your imagery and that it can take years to see it.
But that’s only if you document it.
People tend to have so many photographs taken while growing up because the physical changes are happening so quickly and then not nearly as many taken of themselves as adults.
If you’ve got kids, it’s likely that you’re thinking it’s more important to document them than yourself. If you don’t, it’s likely just not a priority for you.
I would argue that as adults, it’s even more important to document your story, to exist in imagery. A lot can happen in a year, and a ton can happen in five.
But what if you miss a decade? The jump between an image taken when you’re 30 and one taken when you’re 40, or 50 or 60, can be dramatic.
And I’m not talking just about your physical appearance. It’s about how you hold yourself, the way you smile, the stories you can tell without saying anything.
Beyond the Photograph: A Professional Perspective
As a professional portrait photographer, I connect with you and capture the moments where you get to truly see yourself as you are and in who you want to be.
The design consultation exists so we can talk through your goals, explore possibilities, and prepare you for your session.
Professional hair and professional makeup provide pampering, allowing you to relax and be cared for.
Wardrobe styling, backdrop changes, and lighting help take you from cozy and casual to professional to refined elegance.
We create imagery that makes you money and heirloom wall art that will literally last for generations.
Every image is an invitation to be seen, to be remembered, and to exist fully in your own story. And not just around the holidays, birthdays, graduations, or weddings.
I’ve realized that I need to exist in imagery.
I want to exist in imagery.
For my family, for my children, for my husband, for myself. To show who I’ve been, who I am, and who I want to be.
What about you?
Ready to build your photography legacy? Book your curiosity call today.