
I'm Jesse. Dad first, photographer second.
I didn't pick up a camera because of art school. I picked it up because my kids were growing faster than my memory could keep up, and phone photos weren't cutting it.
We live on a few acres in the country. Our family runs on trails, creeks, campfires, and the kind of ordinary evenings that turn out to matter most. That's what I learned to photograph. Once I could see it in my own family, I started seeing it in everyone else's: on a Friday night sideline, in a senior's last fall at home, in a Tuesday nobody thought to write down.
What I believe about all this
The good ones are unposed.
Ask a four-year-old to smile and you get a grimace. Leave her alone for ten minutes and you get her.
Dads belong in the frame.
Whoever holds the camera disappears from the family album. I know what a photograph of your father is worth, so I make sure you are in the pictures too.
Ordinary is the assignment.
Not the matching outfits. The muddy boots, the bath-time chaos, the Tuesday you would have forgotten by Friday. That is the archive your family will fight over one day.
If any of this sounds like your family, we should talk.