I’m booked for family shoots often —someone wants photos of the kids, something documented, something to be remembered. But with grandparents, it always feels like there’s a quieter urgency sitting underneath it.
Not dramatic. Just… time moving forwards.
There’s often this instinct to line everyone up, get them standing nicely, looking presentable. And of course I do that—there’s a place for it. But those photos, while important, rarely feel like the ones people come back to. They’re solid, yet a bit staid. They show who was there, but not really how it felt.
It doesn’t take much to shift that.
A hat lifted at the wrong moment. A daft face pulled when no one’s expecting it. A grandchild leaning in a bit too close, a hand landing on a shoulder, a quick tickle that turns into proper laughter. Suddenly it loosens. You can feel it change and everyone breathes a bit.
That’s, for me, where it starts to matter and the real comes out – the sneaky pokes, the cheeky grins, the turned upside down smiles, the bear hugs and puddle jumps.
And with grandparents, it’s precious. You get to see your parents how they were with you, from the outside and with extra helpings of hugs and treats! (And generally leaving you to deal with the rules and behaviour after they’ve wound them up!) And there’s something about older faces that hold more than we often give space for. We find the need to look young, to paper over the wrinkles, to wind back the years.
But the lines, the way expressions sit differently, the pace of movement—it’s not something to tidy up or hide. It’s the record of everything that’s been lived. When you let that show, as is, without trying to hide it, it brings a kind of depth to life and the photos you can’t make up.
And the eyes—you know as well, it’s always in the eyes.
It’s the same thing I remember from when my youngest was small. That ability to know exactly what he was thinking from the briefest of glances, the mischief he was about to make; I could see his brain tick tocking the next move.
And it doesn’t go anywhere. You can see still it sparkling in the grandparents’ eyes. It just changes shape over time and sometimes takes a while to feel safe enough to be let out again. But the grandkids are often the key to finding it, they bring fun and that dropping of pretenses and ‘you have to act this way’ in the older generations. And the glances and quiet understanding pass between them without needing to be explained, that element of fun, that sparkle of joy and trouble is still there.
As someone outside the family, I get the privilege to step into that for a short time. Close enough to feel it, but not part of it in a way that changes it. There’s something in that position that feels like a privilege, every time. You notice things they probably don’t even realise they’re doing—the way they stand near each other, small habits, the ease of being together.
It’s never really about the setting or the clothes or getting everything “right.”
.
It’s about that closeness. The history that sits between people and the way it shows up in small gestures rather than big ones. That’s the part that enables the photos to feel. To transport you back when looking at them years in the future.
Photographing it isn’t about creating something new. It’s about catching those fleeting moments, paying attention to them before it shifts again.
Because it will.
And when it does, it won’t be the perfectly arranged photo that holds the most weight. It’ll be the one where someone’s mid-laugh, or slightly out of place, or looking at someone else instead of the camera. The one that feels like them.
That’s the bit worth keeping.
I work across Nottinghamshire and beyond, Leicestershire and Rutland, Peaks to Llangollen.
Click here to find out more about my family shoots with details and prices.
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