As most things do it worked itself out soon enough and life hummed along. Pretty soon I figured out that being a father wasn’t competing with my career–it was actually making me a better photographer. Having a child who had to do what I said and who couldn't cross the street on his own gave me the flexibility I needed to experiment with more documentary techniques and styles that I never would have tried with a commercial client. (Capturing a lawyer eat a lemon for the first time has yet to be on a creative brief.) Having a digital camera with a classic manual focus 50mm lens was making me better at seeing and reacting. I became more observant and decisive, yet more selective, and more willing to experiment with both the shooting and post production styles. Pretty soon, I started seeing some of the ways I photographed Alex trickling into editorial work. The aperture moved from a relatively safe f4 or f5.6 to a finicky f2 or wider. I have almost stopped using zoom lenses completely and my lighting is more about subtle texture and feel.
I started to focus on the subject.
It broke my heart the first time I heard Alex say, “cheeeeese…”
“Alex,” I told him, “we are NOT a cheese family!” I want him to be him, not thinking about what he thinks I want him to do. When he does direct his baby blues my way, I know that he’s looking at me, not the lens. (Okay, sometime he’s looking at his own reflection in the lens...) We have other rules too. If he wants me to put down the camera and play, I drop it and we play. While my little runny-nosed muse makes me a better photographer, I need to be sure that the camera does not make me a worse father. iPhone aside, I rarely have my camera on me. A camera can be a way to experience and record life but it's no replacement for the real thing.