At Home or Outdoors? Choosing the Right Setting for Your Family Session

One of the questions I’m often asked when someone is considering a family session is whether it would be better to do it at home or outdoors.

And the honest answer is that there isn't a better option. They simply tell a different story.

For me, these sessions are about noticing what is already there,  the connection, the tenderness, the chaos, the beauty and all the ordinary little things that make up this particular chapter of your life.

So perhaps the question is less about which setting is "better" and more about what you would like these photographs to remember?

At home: your life, exactly as it is

There is something incredibly special about photographing a family in their own home.

It might not have the perfect light in every room. There might be toys on the floor, a pile of laundry somewhere, an ordinary sofa you've had for years, or a shelf filled with things that wouldn't mean anything to anyone else.

And that is exactly why I love it.

Because all of those things are part of your story.

The lamp beside the sofa. The books your children always pull down. The chair where you feed the baby. The kitchen where everyone gathers. The bedroom where your children climb into your bed in the morning.

All those little details that you barely notice because you see them every day can become incredibly precious with time.

When I photograph you at home, I'm not trying to create a perfect version of your home. I'm interested in your home, because it holds a little map of your life.

For an at-home session, I will often suggest that you do something together rather than simply setting aside time to be photographed.

It could be baking something in the kitchen, playing a favourite game, reading books, making pancakes, drawing, having a cup of tea or simply spending time together in the way you normally would.

It gives us something to share and creates space for the little moments to happen naturally.

And sometimes the light won't be perfect.

That's okay.

The photograph might contain your sofa, your kitchen table, the children's toys or that lamp you've had for years.

But years from now, those are the things that will tell you where you were.

The photographs become not just beautiful images of your family, but a record of how your home felt and how your family lived at that particular moment in time.

Outdoors: nature becomes part of the story

Outdoor sessions have a different feeling.

There is more space, more room to move and explore, and nature becomes part of the photographs.

Trees, long grass, woodland, fields, changing seasons and the landscape around you create a much quieter backdrop.

The photographs tend to feel cleaner and more spacious, with less of the visual detail that comes with photographing inside a home.

We can walk, explore, sit, stop, play, have a hot cocoa, simply spend time together.

And the landscape becomes part of the memory of this particular chapter.

For outdoor sessions I don't hope for a bright, sunny day.

Give me an overcast day any time.

Or a day with a little bit of rain.

The soft light on an overcast day is beautiful. There are no harsh shadows, the colours can feel deeper and quieter, and there is something very gentle about the atmosphere.

I love photographs made in weather that isn't traditionally considered "perfect".

A little rain. Heavy clouds. Mist. The changing seasons.

They all have something to say.

And this is one of the reasons I think the UK is such a wonderful place to photograph outdoors. We have so much changing weather and so much beautiful, soft light.

So if you are drawn to the softer, more atmospheric photographs in my portfolio, I will often suggest that we keep a little flexibility around the weather rather than choosing a date months in advance and hoping for sunshine.

What if you want that golden light?

If what you have fallen in love with in my portfolio is that warm, golden glow, then we do need to think a little more carefully about timing.

That kind of light happens very close to sunrise or sunset, so an outdoor session would usually need to take place during the last hour of the day, or very early in the morning.

The last hour of the day can be particularly beautiful, but I completely understand that it isn't always easy with children.

Dinner, bedtime, tiredness and small children who are very much ready for their day to end can make it less than ideal!

So we don't have to chase golden hour. I often prefer the quietness of an overcast day.

So which should you choose?

If you want your photographs to be deeply rooted in your everyday life, your home may be the perfect place.

If you want the photographs to have more space and simplicity, with nature becoming part of the story, an outdoor session might feel more like you.

And sometimes the answer is both.

We can begin at home and go outside, or simply choose whichever setting feels most natural for your family.

There isn't a right or wrong choice.

What matters to me is that the photographs feel connected to this particular version of your life.

Because children grow.

Families change.

Homes change.

You change.

And the things that feel completely ordinary now can become the things you treasure most later.

Not perfection, but your life as it is now.

And if you're still unsure whether an at-home or outdoor session would suit you best, I'm always very happy to have a chat.

You don't need to have it all figured out before you get in touch.

Tell me a little about your family, the chapter you're in and what you hope to remember.

We'll work it out together.

The Sacred Pause

After my child was born, I felt as though I had stepped into a cocoon. A sealed world of opposites: tenderness and brutality, beauty and exhaustion, joy threaded with grief. Time moved differently there somehow. Every day crawls, every week flies.

Birth did not just add to my life, it stripped me open. The version of me I had built through endless to-do lists and constant moving, quietly unraveled.

Everyone around me looked busy and productive, I felt somehow I was on pause. I was pulled inward, into stillness, into repetition, into a kind of presence I had never known.

It broke me.
It remade me.

It was a beginning and an ending, happening all at once.

Motherhood did not just expand my world. It somehow also made it smaller. My days narrowed to care, to recovery, to connection, to sustenance.

The slowing felt intentional, like being guided back to myself through love. In that space, I discovered corners of myself I had long abandoned, the parts I had left behind in the rush of life.

During this time, my camera was always there, I did capture all of him, when I should be sleeping I was taking photos of him sleeping, when his dad was holding him I was capturing all that beauty I was so I love with, but I never once captured our oneness, I never once capture where I was, this divine, the gorgeous, raw, rough fourth trimester.

Those first weeks are harsh and tender all at once, so raw we forget them, or tuck them gently out of sight, as though they never were. And yet, they leave their mark, shaping us quietly, teaching us lessons we only learn to name years later. That season was not meant to be understood while living it. It was meant to be endured. There was no reflection, only present. And years later, I ache for the images that might have carried me back. Images that could have reminded me not just what it looked like, but what that time In that cocoon meant for me.

When I finally stepped in front of the camera, it was two years later, it felt wrong at first. Excessive. Selfish. To pause, to be seen, to take up space? There are much more important things to do right now, I would say to myself. But it was so restorative. To exist in an image, to be witnessed, allowed me to gather the parts of myself I had quietly set down, parts of me I hadn’t yet seen.

Later, me and my son had a session and those images hold something I cannot explain, continuity, devotion, love softened and strengthened by time. I know I will cherish these images forever.

Postpartum sessions are about what happens after birth.

About the way motherhood shrinks the world so we can hear ourselves again.

I am looking to photograph mothers in the postpartum season, to capture the tender, messy, profound days that so often go unseen. If you feel called to this I would be honoured to create that space with you.

To be photographed is not vanity. It is remembrance. Witness. Celebration.

A way to return to yourself, to see what you have carried, and to know that even in the exhaustion, you are absolutely extraordinary.

To all the mothers who feel unseen: your life, your love, your exhaustion is sacred, and it deserves to be celebrated and held.

Let’s hold this time together.