On my wall hangs a painting of a simple beach scene that my Grandma painted years ago. My mother and I are the subjects. We are bent down looking at something unseen in the rising tide. My Mom wearing a puffy yellow jacket is pointing out something to me, and I in a pale blue coat and hat that she made for me, am reaching for the object of interest. A reflection on the wet sandy beach mirrors us. I adore everything about this painting – the colors, the vibe, but most of all the memories. Although I was a toddler – I really do remember that coat I was wearing! I remember my mom faithfully directing my attention to all the amazing things in the world around us. I love that my Grandmother painted this moment. I love that she reproduced it from a photograph that my Dad created. Our bookshelves (and now hard drives) are full of photos – little glimpses into what was or used to be. As a child, I spent hours pouring over these – reliving those moments happy and sad alike. So being raised in a family that treasured children and valued art, it is only natural that I picked up a camera and began to photography what was around me. I find tremendous joy in creating portraits of children. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly time passes and they grow from sleepy snuggling newborns, to tumbling toddlers, to awkward grade-schoolers with wiggly teeth. I delight in the whole process of meeting them, drawing them out, listening to them and then presenting their parents with an image that will remind them of what life was like once upon a time – Just as painting on my wall reminds me.