Sessions

Real Sessions

The portfolio shows my best photographs. This page shows a whole session, as it happened — including the parts that were nothing like the plan.

A portfolio is a photographer's best work, chosen one frame at a time. It is useful, but it answers the wrong question. What most parents actually want to know is simpler: what will we get?

So this page is the ordinary thing rather than the exceptional one: whole sessions, as they happened. More will follow, and what they mostly show is that no two look alike.

Wide awake, and then not

In the studio · from the Mini Newborn Collection to the Classic

They had booked the Mini Newborn Collection, and it was the right choice: a first baby, no older brothers or sisters, one hour.

He was a few days old, and he wanted to be awake. Not unsettled — content, alert, looking straight at whatever was in front of him. So that is what we photographed. The whole first hour is a wide-awake newborn, which is not what most people picture when they think of these photographs, and is one of my favourite things in the world to do.

When the hour was up, his parents asked whether they could move up to the Classic Newborn Collection and stay a little longer, to see if we could get him asleep as well. I had nobody booked after them that day, so we could.

He fed, and he fell asleep. The second hour is almost all of that: curled, and held — first in his mother's arms, then in his father's.

Both hours are on this page — the one we had booked and the one we added. It is the same baby, sixty minutes apart.

Their first, and they were nervous

In the studio · the Classic Newborn Collection

They drove up from Hemel Hempstead, which is not close, for their first baby.

I could see it when they arrived, and I see it most weeks. A first-time mother is nervous, and the worries are always the same ones: what if she does not sleep. What if she will not settle. What if she cries when you undress her and you do not know what to do.

I know those from the inside — I have had them myself — so let me answer them the way I answer every family. None of it is yours to solve. It is mine, and it is most of the job.

Take the undressing, which is the part people dread. A baby arrives from the car bundled up and warm, and if you take all that off quickly she notices and objects, and she is right to. So it happens slowly, one layer at a time, in a room that is already warm, with as long as it needs in between. Almost always nothing happens at all.

They relaxed once they saw it was simpler than they had pictured. Most people do, usually inside the first twenty minutes.

Look through those and you will notice her parents are in most of them. That is not a family shot added at the end. There are stretches of every newborn session when a baby just wants to be against somebody's chest — and rather than wait for that to pass, I photograph it. Those minutes are not the gaps between the pictures. They are very often the pictures.

The ones where everybody looks at the camera are there too, and every family should have them. But the ones I would keep are the other kind: a father's hands, a mother's mouth against a foot, three people arranged by nothing except where the baby needed to be.

They have been back three times since.

With a brother of twenty months

In the studio · the part nobody can plan

When you book, I send a short questionnaire about the children — what they like, what they do not. If a child loves books there are books out when they arrive; if it is dinosaurs, there are dinosaurs.

And then I put the plan away, because with a brother of twenty months there isn't one. A first child is going through something enormous the week his sister arrives, and how he decides to feel about it on the day is genuinely unpredictable. So I start every session with no plan at all. The plan is to watch.

Some children stay pressed against a parent's leg for a long while. I never ask a child like that to come and be photographed — not once, not gently, not at all — until I can see he has warmed up. I put toys out and I photograph the baby, so that whatever is happening in the room is happening somewhere other than on him.

Others arrive at a run and will not leave their sister alone; they are in the pictures within minutes. Both get there in the end — one simply needs longer. Working out which is which, and then giving him that time, is my job and not yours.

He was in between. Neither glued on nor glued to her.

So we began with his sister, who obliged by starting the session asleep, and that made the first stretch simple. After a few frames of her on her own I brought his mother in — and that turned out to be the whole thing. Watching his mum do the exact thing we were going to ask him to do took all the strangeness out of it. When she stepped away I asked whether he would like a turn, and he came straight over. Then the same with his dad.

By the end I did not have to ask. His parents got into position with the baby and he ran in on his own, which is how the four of them ended up in most of these.

They are twenty months old exactly, all the way through, and that is the part I would not trade. A family session that could have been photographed with any other family is a session that has not told you anything.

We spent most of it talking about Rome

In the studio · both parents and a big sister

He was only a few days old, and we began the way I usually do, which is by not starting. Coats off, kettle on, everybody in the room getting used to being in it.

What was different was what we talked about. Somewhere in the first few minutes it came out that his father had lived in Rome for a while — and Rome is where I am from. So the morning turned into a conversation about a city we both know: what he missed about it, what I do, the things you only notice once you have left. His mother joined in, his big sister — not yet two — had a whole room to inspect, and the baby slept through the introductions.

I am putting that before the photographs because it is not a digression from them. People are photographed the way they feel, and two people in the middle of a conversation about somewhere they love do not hold themselves like people being photographed. Almost everything I like in this set comes from that.

Then the rare thing happened. He stayed asleep — not just at the beginning, but the whole way through, including the undressing, which is the moment a baby is most likely to have an opinion about proceedings. He slept through that too, and he was still asleep at the end. Everything that mattered was photographed inside the hour.

I want to be careful with that sentence, because it is exactly the kind that turns into a worry on the drive over. It is not the reason the session worked, and it is not something you can bring with you. The first session on this page is a baby who was wide awake for a solid hour, and those are some of my favourite photographs I have ever taken. Asleep, awake, halfway between and changing his mind twice — it makes no difference to what you go home with. It changes the order I do things in, and the order is mine to sort out.

There are only a handful of frames of the two of them together, and I would rather say so than let you count them and wonder. A sister who is not yet two gives you what she gives you on the day, and my job is to take that and not go looking for more — the same as it was with the brother of twenty months further up this page. The few we have are among the best things in the set. That is almost always how it works out.

Some mornings go like this one. Most do not. Nobody looking at the pictures afterwards can tell which kind of morning it was, and that is rather the point.

Why the whole session, and not five frames

A portfolio picture is chosen. A session is what happened.

What you see above is one morning, all of it — not five frames chosen afterwards. It is the honest answer to what will we get, and it is a different answer for every family, which is the reason I do not photograph to a plan.

Colour is the clearest example. Look through the portfolio and you will see the same palette almost everywhere — warm, neutral, quiet. That is deliberate, and it is mine: I want nothing in the frame competing with the only thing worth looking at, which is your family being itself. There is a wardrobe here in the studio, for mothers as much as for children, in exactly those tones, and it is yours to use.

Scroll back up these sessions, though, and that palette breaks in places. That is deliberate too. I will always guide you on what to wear — mostly so that four people are not wearing four colours that argue with each other — and inside that, wear whatever makes you feel most like yourselves. Some of the colours on this page are nothing like my portfolio. Those are the sessions that could not have been anybody else's.

If there is something about yours that makes you wonder whether it will work — a toddler who will not sit still, a dog you want in the pictures, a grandparent visiting from abroad that week — tell me when you write. It is almost certainly not the first time.

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