Hi guys! It’s been a WILD summer. I miss writing! Today feels like the perfect day to finally share something that I’ve been thinking about at my shoots, on my drives, and writing in my notes to share once I finally have a time to sit down(me currently sitting waiting at a doctors appt because they are 25 min behind schedule….but a treat to be out of the house solo🤪).

For years, I’ve spent a lot of time learning how to gather inspiration for a shoot without simply recreating someone else’s work. There is such an art to letting images shape your eye while still creating something that feels completely your own. If I’m being honest, early in my career I was a little judgmental about how some photographers approached this. I’d see photographers at weddings pull out giant binders full of poses and ask couples to choose one. I’d hear tips about saving inspiration photos to the back of your camera roll before a shoot so that if you had a blank moment, you could casually scroll through them without your client realizing you were looking for ideas.

At the time, I thought it felt strange. But somewhere along the way, I realized I was looking at it all wrong.

The truth is, whatever helps you create your best work and serve your client well is fair game. Pinterest? Amazing. The Unscripted app? Great. Printed references? Love them. A notebook full of sketches? Why not?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with using tools that help bridge the gap between the vision in your head and what you’re creating in front of you.

Lately, I’ve started doing something that has completely changed the way I approach certain shoots. Instead of keeping inspiration on my phone, I’ve been printing my favorite reference images onto cardstock and bringing them with me. Essentially, I’ve created a tangible swipe file.

I don’t bring them to outdoor sessions, that feels a little too chaotic for me. But for in-home shoots, studio sessions, or any location with a table or counter, they’ve become one of my favorite creative tools.

The idea actually came from a shoot with Oilo Studio. When I walked in, they had dozens of Pinterest images simply taped to a wall. Nothing fancy. Just photos side by side creating a shared vision for the day. I remember thinking how fun it was. Every so often we’d naturally pause, glance back at the wall, reconnect with the feeling we were trying to create, and continue shooting. It didn’t interrupt the creativity, it strengthened it!

I’ve found the same thing happens with printed photos. Instead of my client asking, “Can I see that inspiration picture again?” and both of us breaking the flow while I dig through Pinterest or my camera roll, we can simply glance down at the table. It’s tangible, collaborative, and it gives us something to point to together.

For clients who feel nervous or aren’t used to being photographed, I think it actually removes pressure. They can physically see what we’re aiming for rather than trying to imagine it from my verbal direction alone.

Unexpectedly, it’s helps me before the shoot too. The night before, I’ll print everything out, spread the cards across my desk, and start mentally walking through the session. I begin imagining where we’ll start, how one moment can naturally lead into another, what kind of light fits each idea, and how I want the story to unfold.

By the time I arrive, I’m not walking in with a scattered collection of screenshots buried in my phone, I’m walking in with a vision.

Inspiration isn’t about copying. It’s about giving your creativity somewhere to begin.

So if you’ve ever felt guilty for needing a Pinterest board, an app, printed references, or any other creative aid, don’t. Use the tools that help you make meaningful work. Your clients just care that you helped bring the vision they trusted you with to life.

Curious if anyone else has brought tangible inspiration to their shoots, or if you try it out, let me know how it goes!

There’s a quiet kind of grief that lives in motherhood. Not the loud kind, the kind no one really talks about.

It’s the knowing that everything is changing, all the time. That the way they say your name right now… won’t always sound like that. That the curl of their hair, the way they reach for you, the way they exist in your home is already slipping into memory as it’s happening.

And yet, somehow, we are the ones holding it all. What we keep matters. Not just for them one day, but for us, right now, in the middle of it. The small things, the in-between moments, the ordinary days that end up being everything.

This is why I created my motherhood course, What We Keep.

This course was born out of years of photographing love, families, and now my motherhood journey.

From realizing that the most meaningful images I’ve ever taken aren’t always the “perfect” ones…but the honest ones. A child playing on the floor while the light spills in, messy kitchen counters, bare feet, you in the frame, even when it feels easier not to be.

Inside the course, I’ll walk you through:

– The exact gear I use (and what I actually recommend you start with, no overwhelm, no unnecessary spending)

– How to shoot in manual in a way that finally makes sense

– How to read light and use it to tell a story

– How to photograph your children naturally, without interrupting or forcing moments

– How to begin seeing your life differently, through a lens that notices what’s already beautiful

I’ll also guide you through:

– Organizing your images so they don’t just live on your phone forever

– A simple, approachable editing process

– And how to export and even print your photos so they become part of your home and your children’s story

And if there’s a small part of you that wonders…could this be something more? I’ll gently walk you through that too. Not in a way that feels big or overwhelming, but in a way that feels possible. How to start small, how to document for neighbors, friends, and people who need what you already see. How to earn a little something of your own, without it taking away from the life you’re building.

This isn’t about becoming a photographer overnight. It’s about becoming someone who sees, someone who notices, someone who keeps.

Whether you’ve never picked up a camera,

or you’ve been doing this for years, I want this course to be for you. One day these will be the photos you reach for. And you’ll be so glad you kept them.

-Ashley Teresa

Every January, I feel it again, that strange mix of relief and discomfort that comes with slowing down.

If you know me personally, you know I don’t love slowing down. It’s deeply uncomfortable for me. I’m that friend…the one you can’t get to truly chill unless you physically take me to a movie theater, where I’ll get in trouble if I try to multitask. Which, honestly, is why movies end up being one of the most relaxing experiences ever for me. I finally have no choice but to slow down, haha.

For the past two years, though, I’ve taken an intentional off-season from November through March. And every time, it feels daunting at first. Stepping away from constant creation, constant shooting, constant output goes against everything we’re told we should be doing to “stay relevant.”

It’s also scary financially. My income helps support my family, and choosing to pause isn’t something I take lightly… But it has proven to be necessary.

Each time I’ve given myself this space, it has blessed my family and my photography career in ways I couldn’t have anticipated. The rest clears the noise. The pause creates room. And the creativity that follows feels truer, more grounded, and far more sustainable than anything I could force in the middle of burnout.

But here’s the thing: every time I give myself this space, something wild happens to my creativity.

In 2024, I photographed over 50 weddings. I loved my clients deeply, but by the end of the year, I was burned out in a way I couldn’t ignore. Going into 2025, I stopped completely. I didn’t take a single shoot until March. That season was mostly about rest…true, deep rest… and it changed everything for me.

Now I’m entering another off-season, but this one feels different. More intentional. More tender. It also happens to include welcoming a new little one, which means lots of cuddling, slower mornings, and honoring my body and heart in a whole new way.

This year, I don’t want my off-season to be filled with endless Pinterest scrolling. I want it to train me. Stretch me. Replenish me. I want to return to my work feeling like my talent has been strengthened, not rushed, not copied, not forced.

A professor once told me, “If you don’t hate your work every two years, you aren’t growing enough.”

He also wasn’t a wedding photographer, so I take that with a grain of salt. Wedding photography requires consistency and timelessness for our clients. I don’t hate my work from two years ago, but I do see where I’ve shifted. Where I’ve softened. Where film has entered. Where documentation has taken priority over perfection. Growth doesn’t always mean rejection of the past, it can mean refinement.

No matter where you are in your photography journey, there is always room to grow. So here’s what I’m doing this off-season to become a better photographer in 2026….

1. Finishing My Motherhood Course

This has been on my heart for a long time.

The written portion is done, what’s left is recording myself walking through it. I decided later in the process that I wanted to include video, so it feels personal, like I’m sitting with you rather than teaching at you. That choice slowed me down, but it feels right.

Going back to the basics, light, composition, storytelling, intention, is grounding. It’s exactly what I’m teaching mothers who want to document their lives more meaningfully, and it’s something every photographer needs to revisit from time to time.

Sometimes the pressure to be “different” or “unique” pushes us past foundational rules too quickly. It’s okay to break the rules, but only if you know why you’re breaking them.

2. One Personal Photo Challenge Per Week

I know the advice: take a photo every day, always have your camera on you. Ive tried. It’s not me. And I’ve learned to stop forcing what doesn’t fit.

Instead, I love studying imagery, magazines, books, Pinterest boards, and letting that inspiration turn into a small, intentional challenge. A concept. A feeling. Something playful.

Once a week feels doable and fun. And yes… most of mine will probably revolve around motherhood and newborns. I’m not fighting that with this also being my maternity leave!

3. Creating a Physical Collage for the Year

Last year, I made a collage that represented the direction I wanted my work to go, and I truly believe it changed everything. I leaned fully into documentary family and motherhood work, and I kept returning to that vision again and again.

Here’s my biggest piece of advice: don’t keep it digital. Print the images. Tape them up. Make a wall in your office or bedroom or anywhere you’ll see it daily. Having that visual reminder in my physical space was the real game changer. Let it guide you quietly.

4. Studying One Photographer’s Work (Deeply)

Not ten. Not twenty. One.

Study their work. Sit with it. Ask why it moves you. And maybe even reach out to them. They may not respond, but I can tell you firsthand…receiving a DM asking about gear, film stock, or process is one of the greatest compliments.

This year, I’m focusing on John Dolan’s wedding work. There’s restraint, honesty, and confidence there that I want to learn from.

5. Being Intentional About Gear

Each year, I invest in one piece of equipment. A camera, a lens, a light, something that helps me get closer to the work I want to make. It doesn’t need to be purchased immediately, but it does need intention.

Gear doesn’t make you a great photographer…but it absolutely helps. My work transformed when I invested in tools that aligned with my goals. Budget for it. Plan for it. Take it seriously if you’re serious about growing.

And if you don’t need new gear right now? Learn the gear you already own. Inside and out. Watch videos. Shoot in terrible light. Push it.

I recently got a Leica Q3 and confession, I’ve barely touched it. I loved it at the weddings I closed out last year, but my Sony and Pentax are my tried-and-true babies. This off-season, the Leica gets some love. No excuses.

6. Writing Down What Worked—and What Didn’t

Before moving forward, I’m taking time to look back honestly. Not just at my photos, but at my business.

I’m writing down what worked well last year, and just as importantly, what didn’t. What energized me. What drained me. What I said yes to out of alignment. What I said yes to out of fear. Clarity comes quickly when you see it on paper.

For me, this means being very intentional this year. I’m only taking a limited number of weddings. I’m no longer doing double-header wedding weekends. I’m saying no to small Saturday shoots and fully reserving those days for weddings or family time. And I’m saying no more confidently to work that doesn’t serve me creatively, emotionally, or seasonally.

This isn’t about doing less for the sake of doing less. It’s about protecting the work, the art, and the life around it. Sometimes growth doesn’t look like adding more, it looks like choosing better.

Growth doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it looks like rest. Like fewer shoots. Like creating without posting. Like studying instead of scrolling. Listening to music that makes you see an image in your head. Or just holding your baby while dreaming up new ideas quietly.

If you’re entering 2026 wanting to become a better photographer or documenter, my hope is that you start from the heart. The rest will follow. Always does.🤍

The hardest part about being a photographer is having an idea in your head that you wish you could reflect in yourself, but most of the time, it lives there. Fully formed. Specific. Emotional. And somehow impossible to explain.

So instead, I take that idea and ask someone else to model it.

Not because I don’t believe I’m worthy of being photographed, but because it’s easier. I know how to direct others. I know how to translate feeling into movement when I’m behind the camera. And if I’m being honest, I like it there far more than in front of it.

That said… something has been shifting.

Lately, I’ve become a bit hippy about the idea that mamas need to be in the photos too. Not just snapping them. Not just archiving childhood from the sidelines. But existing in the frame.

I love documenting my daughter. I love childhood. I love freezing the magic of who she is right now. But I want photos of us too…because we create that magic together. And because one day, when I’m gone (yes, morbid, but real), I don’t want it to be hard for her to find photos of the two of us.

Before anyone comes for my husband, I have so much respect for how present he is. He’s an incredible photo taker. Truly. But for him, taking photos removes him from the moment. It doesn’t feel authentic to be constantly documenting.

For me, it’s different. Years of practice have taught me how to document subtly. Without disruption. Without snapping out of presence. I can enjoy and create at the same time. It’s second nature now.

So when it came time for my own maternity photos, I knew I wanted them, but I didn’t quite know how to step into them.

Advice #1: Choose Where You Feel Like You

Originally, I chose a studio. Natural light. White walls. Fashion-forward outfits. Clean. Minimal. Editorial.

And then… at 9pm the night before, I thought, “Why the HELL did I choose a studio?”

Me. A blank wall. When I hate photos of myself?

The place I feel most like myself is home. In our mess. Our warmth. Our real life.

So I texted my photographer and asked if she’d be willing to step into our world instead.

If you take anything from this, choose a location where you feel like you. Not what’s trending. Not what photographs “well.” But where your body can exhale.

Advice #2: Prepare Your Vision So You Can Let Go

If you have a vision you want to execute, study it first. Preparation is what allows presence to exist.

I made a mood board. I sent my photographer every inspo image along with why I liked it. In each one, I saw something new, or a way to make it my own, and I explained that to Noel ahead of time. See below for some Pinterest photo examples that I showed:

So when the shoot began, we weren’t scrambling. We had intention. We had direction. And because of that, we could relax. We could have fun. We could actually enjoy the process while still honoring the vision.

Both can coexist—if you give yourself the time beforehand.

Advice #3: If a Toddler Is Involved, Preparation Is Everything

If you’re including a toddler, what happens before the photographer arrives matters more than anything.

For us, my daughter and I were already playing in her nursery when Noelle arrived, so we started there. That matched the vision I had for that space.

From there, we moved to the bath (she’s obsessed…easy win), then out of the bath into a new outfit (which she needed anyway), and finally into a cereal moment, one of her other favorite things.

Funny enough, the cereal idea came from an inspo photo of a pregnant woman with a bowl of noodles resting on her belly. Same idea. Different execution. Ours.

If kids are involved, make it something they love. And above all: NEVER force.

This is my number one rule…always. If my daughter doesn’t want to do something for a photo, we don’t do it. No bribery. No “just one more.” No panic.

I know that can feel scary when you want the perfect image, but pressure only makes things worse. Kids feel it immediately.

Go in with goals, yes, but also acceptance. Let them be kids. Because when my wild kid knew she didn’t have to be in the photos, she actually wanted to be. A little FOMO magic. She was wild and silly and nonstop…and then, suddenly, quiet. Focused. Putting baby diapers on her stuffies. Existing naturally.

Those are the moments you can’t manufacture.

Advice #4: Wear What You’d Actually Wear

Outfits always feel like the biggest question. And honestly? It wasn’t until the day of the shoot that I decided to wear pajamas for most of it. I just saw it clearly and knew, that was it. That was one of the only things I could wear and feel content… and comfortable at this stage of pregnancy, lol.

Don’t overdo it. Don’t wear something you wouldn’t normally wear. You’ll see a few more fashion forward outfits in my maternity pics, but I made sure I felt confident in them beforehand. Every piece I chose had a purpose. I wanted to wear it. It reflected features I love about myself in this season of pregnancy.

Pinterest makes us want to copy outfits, but instead, ask yourself: 1. What do I actually feel good in? 2. What feature do I love about myself? 3. How can I make this mine?

These photos, made in the comfort of our home, fully present, a little chaotic, deeply honest, are something I’ll cherish forever.

Not because they’re perfect, but because they are how we truly felt.

And that’s the kind of art worth keeping and what I strive to model in my own work. I am forever grateful to Noelle Reynolds for seeing my vision. 🤍

A while back, I sold my own presets. They were something I shaped and molded while in school, back when I was first learning Lightroom. I tested them on just about every camera file I could get my ha…

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If you’ve been following along (even a little) let’s be honest, I haven’t been the most active lately. You’ll soon find out why haha! But you may have noticed a small but significant change these past few weeks: I made my commercial/personal Instagram page private. It’s something I wrestled with for a long time. And today, I wanted to share why I finally did it, what led me there, and how it’s been going—especially as someone who runs a business on social media. I wrote this post on my 14 hour flight to Australia, and I am so excited to finally share it. I hope it helps someone else out there.

The Heart of the Matter

If you’ve been here for a while, you know my daughter often becomes the subject of my photos. She’s my little muse—always nearby, always inspiring me. But with that came a question I couldn’t shake: How do I keep her safe while still sharing the work I love?

A while ago, I wrote a draft of a Substack called “How to Keep Your Kids Safe While Still Posting Them.” I shared it with my sister, proud of what I’d written—thoughtful steps we take like never posting her age, birthday, or school, avoiding showing our house exterior, limiting followers, etc.

But my sister said something that stopped me in my tracks and made me overthink (as sisters sometimes do), which is why I love going to them for advice. Honest and blunt at times, haha.

She reminded me that even if you take all the precautions, the biggest concern isn’t just internet creepers (though those exist, too). It’s that sometimes, strangers—well-meaning or not—can recognize your child in real life. Not because they know you, but because they’ve seen enough of your child online to feel like they know them.

It had already happened to us. Someone recognized our daughter in public (a few times actually) before recognizing my husband or my mom, who was watching her. It was innocent. Sweet, even because they just know be through documenting their fam or a friend. But it stuck with me.

My sister also mentioned something she’d heard: that children are more often in danger from people who know them, or at least seem to. If a stranger approaches a child and says their name, birthday, or mentions something they love—it creates instant trust. That invisible “stranger danger” wall comes down, because now the stranger doesn’t feel like a stranger anymore.

And that’s when it clicked. No matter how many settings I adjust or details I blur, if someone really wants to know about her, they can piece it together. And I wasn’t okay with that anymore.

What We Were Already Doing

I don’t judge anyone who shares their children online. I know and love so many incredible women who do, and they inspire me all the time. But for anyone in the “unsure” phase, I wanted to still share what we had already decided to do—even before going private:

1. Avoid sharing personal details: No birthdays, no age captions, no school names, and nothing about where we live.

2. No exterior shots of our home: I don’t post anything that could give away where we are currently living anymore. This was an obvious one after posting our outside view of our home once and someone (again very innocently) told me they had walked by our home and knew the exact one it was. We use to live in a very obvious, recognizable community though (IYKYK haha).

3. Delay posting in real time: We always post after the fact—whether it’s a trip, walk, or just a fun outing. We never share our location in real time.

4. Plan to stop sharing completely by age 5: That’s when they start becoming their own person in the world. One mom I follow did this, and it really stuck with me.

5. Never post bath, eating, or vulnerable moments: It’s sad we even have to say this, but predators are real. Full stop.

6. Clean out your following list regularly: If someone gives you the ick, or you don’t know why they’re following, remove them. No guilt necessary.

So yes, these were the steps I believed in. But ultimately, I realized it wasn’t enough—for me. And that’s why I decided to go private.

How It’s Been Since Going Private

Honestly? Better than I thought.

I was nervous, especially as a photographer. I worried: Will brands still want to work with me? Will new clients find me? But so far, my inquiries haven’t slowed down one bit. I have a ways been more of a word of mouth, old school photographer, so that has helped. Also, something kind of amazing has happened.

I feel closer to the people following me now. I usually request to follow back if they’re private, or check mutuals to see how we’re connected. I’ve had some beautiful moments reconnecting with families I’ve photographed over the years—people I truly care about but wouldn’t normally see in person. Now I get to share our family life with them in a more intentional, curated way.

I also still use my public wedding page to showcase my work and connect with new clients, and it’s working. That page helps me stay visible and searchable, while my private page holds the quieter, more sacred stuff. It’s a rhythm that finally feels sustainable.

And strangely enough, I feel like I can be more consistent now and stop holding back. The pressure to perform for an algorithm is gone, and the connection feels deeper.

If You’re a Business Owner Considering Going Private…

So far I feel like I can still run a business online while keeping some boundaries in place. It’s not all or nothing. Here’s what is helping me:

• Having a second public-facing page just for your work, portfolio, or announcements.

• Let your audience know on your public page that you post more frequently somewhere else, and invite them to request to follow.

• Don’t be afraid to approve people intentionally. You’re not gatekeeping—you’re curating a space that feels safe for your family.

I hope this helps anyone else who’s felt stuck in the same tug-of-war: wanting to share your work and your life, but not at the expense of your child’s safety.

If you’ve made your business page private, I’d love to hear how it’s going for you, too.

Thanks for being here.

—

Ash

I recently found myself i…

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You don’t just save it because it’s pretty. You save it because one day, it’s going to spark something in you.

The Myth of Originality:

One of the most freeing things I ever learned in school was that nothing is truly original. That’s not a depressing thought—it’s actually the beginning of real creative freedom.

Austin Kleon’s “Steal Like an Artist” put this into words I’ve clung to ever since:

“Every new idea is just a mashup or a remix of one or more previous ideas.”

And yet… let me take you back to a time I did not understand this at all.

Cue: The Log Lamp Incident

Picture this: me, in interior design school. Final project. The professor announces… “Your task is to create a light fixture that is 100% original. Something the world has never seen before.”Naturally, I took this to mean: “Don’t look at any lamps. Don’t Google anything. Don’t even think about light fixtures you’ve seen at Target. That would be copying.”

I spiraled. Lost sleep. Battled the concept of originality like a tortured poet… ask David… the poor guy was dating me during all of this.

And what did I come up with? A log. Yes, an actual log. David asked his neighbor for their saw. We cut that bad boy down the middle, drilled holes in it for light to escape like some sort of haunted woodland cheese grater, and—here’s the kicker—my lights died the morning of the final. So what did I do? I was living with my grandma at the time, so I grabbed some of her colorful Christmas lights and shoved them inside the log….It looked like the forest threw up a disco ball.

When I arrived at class, I was mortified. Meanwhile, everyone else had made stunning fixtures that looked like they were pulled from an Anthropologie catalog—vintage shades, brass finishes, Edison bulbs. And me? I had the world’s saddest Yule log.

We had to vote for the best design. Want to know how many votes I got? Zero. That’s right. Zilch. Nada.

And you know what? I deserved it. I learned a lesson I’ve carried with me ever since: The assignment wasn’t to create something from nothing. It was to take inspiration and make it your own. That’s true originality.

Swipe Files & Stealing Like an Artist:

Fast-forward to when I joined the photography program at BYU. One of the first things we were taught? Create a swipe file. Always. Constantly. Curate beauty, reference work, stories, color palettes, emotion, and light for what you want to create. Not to copy. But to feed your creative brain until it’s full enough to remix something new.

Why Swipe Files Matter:

• They help you define your taste (which often develops before your skills do).

• They give you direction when you feel stuck.

• They show you what you’re drawn to—over and over again.

• They’re the springboard for originality, not the enemy of it.

My Favorite Swipe File Methods:

• Pinterest – My number one. It’s like mood-boarding for your future self.

• Instagram “Collections” – Save posts you love into categories.

• Folders in your Notes app or desktop – Quotes, photos, screenshots, song lyrics.

• Physical journals/sketchbooks or wall collage – There’s something magical about handwriting ideas or printing things out and taping them in. I’m not the best at this, but I occasionally will print out photos and do a collage when I’m feeling stuck creatively.

Closing Thoughts:

Creativity isn’t about never being inspired by others—it’s about letting inspiration move through you, filter through your story, your lens, and your life.

So please, save the things you love. Steal like an artist. Build your swipe file. And for the love of light fixtures everywhere… don’t make a log lamp.🙃

My Pinterest

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They don’t care that you found the dreamiest patch of backlight at golden hour. They don’t care that you’re trying to expose for skin tones. They don’t care that you’ve pulled out your camera instead of your phone. They do care about the cookies, which I came prepared with!

They’re just… moving. Running. Rolling. Yelling about more cookies. And still—we want to document it. So how do I meter light when kids won’t stop moving? Here’s what’s worked for me:

1. Meter for the Moment, Not Perfection

I’ve learned to let go of perfect exposures. If I get the skin tone mostly right and the highlights aren’t blown, I’m calling it a win. Childhood isn’t perfect. It’s wild and unpredictable and beautifully messy. I try to let my images reflect that.

2. Use Center-Weighted or Spot Metering (and Practice Fast)

If I’m shooting on digital, I often switch to center-weighted or spot metering and expose off their faces. I’ll quickly tap for light on the iPhone too if just at home documenting, but when using my camera, I move fast and trust my instincts.

Pro tip: set your camera to manual mode with auto ISO if you’re chasing light and motion. It gives you a little more flexibility while staying exposed properly.

3. Pre-Meter When I Can

If I know where the light is good, I’ll set my exposure before they run into it. That way, I’m not fiddling while they are having a moment. I meter off my own hand or a white dress/shirt if I’m alone and waiting. Often for my film shots, I will pre plan for the light they run into. They are some of my favorite shots!

4. Lean Into Shadows + Highlights

Some of my favorite images of are underexposed or have deep shadows. And that’s okay. I’d rather have the feeling of the moment than a perfectly lit one that’s stiff or forced.

5. Use the Light That’s Already There

Instead of chasing light, I’ve learned to see it where we are. I think most people would laugh if they saw the places I’ve actually put clients for lighting purposes. By a trash can, laundry room, literally anywhere that they weren’t planning on, haha. A strip of sunlight across the rug while baby is crawling, a glowy window near the kitchen sink, a shadow on the wall that dances as your little one spins, speckled light(If you’ve worked with me you know this is my fav!). Magic is already happening—you just have to pause long enough to notice it.

I’m still learning this daily. But if you’re in the season of motherhood where everything is a blur—sometimes literally—just know that blurry, imperfect, beautifully lit chaos IS the story. I am embracing that more than ever lately and I have never loved my documenting more.

It’s all worth capturing. 💛

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So much of childhood is fleeting and wild and impossible to schedule. And that’s what makes it worth capturing: not the posed smiles or matching outfits, but the in-between. The real stuff. The real childhood. I can’t even begin to explain how much I have learned in this role of motherhood with documenting the past two years. Documenting my girls childhood has brought me so much joy.

Here’s how I approach photographing little ones—my own and others now—in a way that honors who they are and preserves the beauty of their becoming.

Don’t Interrupt the Magic.

First and foremost: resist the urge to direct. Boy have I learned this the hard way. In my professional work and just as a mother trying to document.

Kids are already amazing storytellers with their bodies and their play. They don’t need prompts. They need space. If you jump in with “look here!” or “smile!” you’re stepping out of documentary and into performance. There’s a place for both—but if you want real, let them forget you’re holding a camera.

Let them play. Let them move. You can follow gently, stay at their level, or even shoot from across the yard with a zoom lens. Some of my favorite images are taken from the hallway while my daughter is talking to her stuffed animals or independently playing in her sunlit nursery. She never knows I am documenting in those moments.

Sometimes the moment unfolds in silence. Other times, you’re just waiting for the light to hit just right, or for the story to peak. It’s not about snapping constantly—it’s about knowing when to click.

Photograph With Intention.

It’s easy to grab a camera and hope for something cute. But the good stuff often comes when you’re still first just observing.

What makes your child them? Their scrunched-up thinking face? The way they grip your hand with sticky fingers? The way they always put on their shoes backwards? For mine, the mess she makes when doing arts and crafts!

Start with that.

You’re not just taking a picture—you’re telling a story. Think about what they’re drawn to, what they love. Try capturing them from angles that feel true to the moment: overhead while they color, low to the ground while they build, close up on their little hands as they eat breakfast.

This kind of documenting is less about what looks good on Instagram and more about what will make you cry in twenty years. And boy has my photography seen a shift from following this new philosophy.

Camera Settings + Tips for Capturing Kids in Motion.

Whether you’re shooting on film or digital, here are a few technical tips that help with those quick, real-life moments:

• Shutter speed: Keep it high—1/500 or faster to freeze movement (kids are fast)

• Aperture: f/2.8 to f/4 gives you some depth without losing focus. Go wider (f/1.8) for dreamy vibes, but know the risks of missing focus.

• ISO: Don’t be afraid to bump it up if you’re indoors. Remember, it’s OK to break the rules in photography, just know why you are breaking them. Grain is better than blur sometimes. ISO 800–1600 is your friend too.

• Autofocus: Use continuous autofocus (AF-C / AI Servo) to keep up with your little one. My film canon ae-1 with manual focus is only used indoors when Ro is quietly playing, slowly painting, and I have that time to focus. Other times, I am usually on my Pentax 645 with my auto focus lens.

• Burst mode: For fleeting moments like jumping, spinning, or laughter—burst mode helps you catch the peak.

• Film tip: Portra 400 is a great all-around stock. It’s very forgiving, which I needed a lot of forgiveness in the beginning haha. I meter for the shadows and embrace whatever unfolds.

Most importantly: don’t stress about perfection. Blur, grain, odd crops—all of it has its place. These aren’t photos for a magazine. They’re for your heart.

Trust That the Ordinary is Enough.

There is no “right” backdrop for childhood. Your messy living room, your backyard, the grocery store—all of it is real, and all of it matters. Life’s happening now.

Document it the way you’d write about it in a journal: honestly, lovingly, without pressure.

You’re Already Doing It Right.

If you’ve made it this far, I know your heart’s in the right place. You want to remember your kids as they really are. You want them to look back and feel seen and see how loved they are through those memories you saved for them.

This week, I challenge you to pick one morning or afternoon to document your child without interrupting. Just follow their lead. Watch the way the light moves across their face. Wait for the story to unfold. Let it be imperfect and wild and real.

If you liked this post, be sure to subscribe as I will be sharing more tips on film, documenting motherhood, learning your style, and so much more. 💛