I spent the better part of this past weekend in what often feels like the undiscerning sprint that exemplifies holiday portrait season. The photographing can almost take on a groping quality that I find neither attractive nor in keeping with my temperament. This isn’t to say it’s all bad, because the rush and challenge of the family holiday portrait can be invigorating. It’s just that I miss a more contemplative and unhurried approach.

By the time the final session on Sunday was due to begin I was pretty beat, and feeling less than inspired. It was one of those, “let’s just get this thing done”, kind of moments that I’m not at all proud to admit I occasionally encounter. The worst kind of mindset really, when thoughts speed off far ahead, imagining a better time to be had in the future, once the current task is endured and finally complete.

The boy arrived at the studio with his parents and sister right on time. I likely greeted the family in a perfunctory way, hurrying off to grab my equipment as I explained we’d have to get started promptly to have enough natural daylight to work with. It really wasn’t until photographing the children individually that I slowed down enough to actually see. There was something about this boy that caused my crazy over-thinking, futuring mind to suddenly stop dead in its tracks and pay attention. Although a beautiful child, it was much more than that obvious realization. It was recognition. There was a peaceful presence about him that I connected with instantly. That is, once I completely opened my eyes. I saw him, and I felt that he saw me.

Once the connection was made, everything changed. No longer the distracted and frazzled photographer off somewhere in the distance, I’d returned home. It’s still so amazing to me how the craft of photography can invite the kind of unlikely and deep recognition I experienced last Sunday evening, with a ten year old boy who moments earlier had been a stranger.



~Cynthia