AN INHERITANCE
It was the last time I saw my grandmother. We were sitting in her room catching up after not seeing each other for quite some time. She knew I had graduated and finished school, and asked what I was now doing for work. I told her that despite all those long years in grad school, in the end I followed a different path as a photographer. She replied, “Oh, just like my dad.” My response was a puzzled look and an absurdly long pause, then finally, “What do you mean?” She pointed to a framed picture of a man on her dresser, “That’s my father, your great grandfather.” As I looked the first thing I noticed was that we had the same haircut - no small feat for men separated by nearly 100 years in time. I liked him. She continued to tell me all about his life as a professional photographer where they grew up in Minot, North Dakota, how most of his family still lived in Norway, and how as a child she’d play in his studio, “I’d run and weave all around the legs of his tripods and light stands.” You could tell it made her happy to reminisce.
So there I was, six years into my photographic career and completely unaware until that moment that I was following in the footsteps of my great grandfather. As it sank in, I started to get goosebumps. What are the odds? We hear about family legacies often, but nobody ever told me this story. There was no nudge toward photography, no family script - I just happened to find it and fall in love. That discovery, that thread into the past, has brought a deeper sense of meaning and continuity to my work. While I still wonder what combination of luck and fate this all is, I know this: I doubt I could be this fulfilled doing anything else.
THE LONG VIEW
More than 15 years of documenting weddings has taught me to value perspective and patience. Trends pass quickly; photographs of people and relationships tend to grow more important with time. I want the work to hold its beauty now, and deepen in meaning as families grow and years pass.