I Didn’t Become a Photographer Because I Loved Taking Pictures
Anyone Can Show You What It Looked Like. But Can They Show You What It Felt Like?
There’s a difference between a photograph that shows you what something looked like and a photograph that reminds you what it felt like. And if you’ve ever lost someone you love, you probably understand exactly what I mean.
As a wedding and family photographer based in Blairsville, Pennsylvania, I’ve spent more than 20 years documenting people’s lives throughout Indiana County and Western Pennsylvania. But here’s something you might not know about me. I didn’t become a photographer because I loved cameras. I became a photographer because I knew what it felt like to desperately wish I had more photographs of someone I could never photograph again. And that has shaped every single thing about the way I do my job.
Can We Talk About the Word “Passion” for a Second?
When I first started in photography, I used to roll my eyes every time I heard another photographer say photography was their “passion.” You know the stories. “I’ve loved photography since I was five!” “I used to flip through magazines dreaming of becoming a photographer!” “I was born with a camera in my hand!” And listen, good for them. Truly. But every time I heard it, I thought, Well, that’s nice. Can’t relate.
I didn’t grow up dreaming about aperture settings. I wasn’t collecting vintage cameras or studying fashion magazines. I didn’t have some romantic vision of becoming an artist. My story was a whole lot less glamorous. And a whole lot more painful. Over the years, I’ve realized that loving photography and understanding what a photograph can mean to someone are two different things. Neither is wrong. But I think when you’re choosing someone to document your wedding or your family, it’s worth asking what motivates the person behind the camera. Because their answer might tell you something about what they’ll notice when they’re photographing your life.
My First Camera Was Purchased With Money I Wish I’d Never Received
I was in my junior year of college when my 17-year-old sister, Nicole, was killed in a car accident. Seventeen. There are some things in life that divide everything into before and after. That was one of mine. And while losing her was devastating, there was another moment that changed me in a way I couldn’t have understood at the time. We were going through photographs for her funeral. A shoebox of pictures. And there weren’t enough. There were school portraits. Holiday photographs. Pictures of us dressed up in our Easter outfits, smiling because somebody told us to.
We had photographs of what she looked like. But I wanted MORE. I wanted the pictures where she was laughing so hard you could almost hear her. The faces she made. The way she interacted with people. The little things that made her Nicole. I wanted photographs that reminded me of what it felt like to have her here. And I couldn’t find enough of them.
Here’s the part that still gets me. We didn’t know we needed those photographs when we had the chance to take them. Nobody thinks about that when they’re living an ordinary Tuesday. Nobody thinks, I should photograph this moment because someday I’d give anything to have it back. You just assume there will be more Tuesdays. Until there aren’t.
I Bought a Camera Because I Couldn’t Go Back in Time
After Nicole died, I received insurance money. It sat in my bank account for almost a year. I couldn’t bring myself to spend it. It wasn’t money I wanted. It was money that existed because someone I loved was gone. But eventually, I made a decision. If I was going to use that money, I wanted it to mean something. So I bought my first professional camera.
I cried when I placed the order. And I made myself a promise. I couldn’t go back and photograph my sister the way I wished someone had. But I could photograph my life, my children’s lives, and other people’s lives differently. I could pay attention to the things that might not seem important right now. I could create the photographs I wished I had.
That camera was purchased because of one of the worst things that ever happened to me. And somehow, it became the beginning of something beautiful. More than 20 years later, I still carry that promise with me. In a strange way, every time I create a photograph that means something to someone, it feels like a little piece of Nicole is still part of what I’m doing.
What Something LOOKS Like vs. What It FEELS Like
Let me give you a few examples. A photograph of a bride standing next to her dad tells you what they looked like on her wedding day. But a photograph of him holding her face in his hands, trying not to cry? That tells you something about their relationship.
A photograph of a family sitting together on a blanket shows you what everyone looked like that fall. But the photograph of Mom laughing while her toddler climbs into her lap for the fifteenth time? That tells you what motherhood felt like in that season.
A photograph of Grandma smiling at the camera is wonderful. But a photograph of Grandma with her head thrown back laughing at something ridiculous Grandpa said? That might be the photograph her grandchildren treasure most someday.
And sometimes the difference is even smaller. A hand resting on someone’s shoulder. A familiar look between two people who’ve spent decades together. The way a little girl reaches for her daddy without even looking because she knows he’ll be there. Those are the things I’m watching for. Not because they’re trendy. Not because they’ll get a thousand likes on Instagram. But because I know how much those tiny, ordinary moments can mean when they’re no longer ordinary.
Your Wedding Photos Aren’t Just About Your Wedding
I think couples sometimes get so caught up in planning their wedding that they forget what they’re actually gathering everyone together for. Yes, the flowers are gorgeous. Yes, your dress deserves its own moment. And YES, we’re absolutely getting that beautiful portrait of the two of you looking like you belong on the cover of a magazine.
But you know what else I’m thinking about? Your mom. Your dad. Your grandparents. Your siblings. Your childhood best friend. The people who knew you before you were somebody’s husband or wife. All those people in one place, celebrating one chapter of your life. And here’s something that becomes more obvious the older you get.
That exact group of people, at those exact ages, in that exact season of life, will never exist again.
That’s what makes wedding photography so much bigger than pretty pictures. Someday, the photograph of your mom fastening the buttons on your dress might remind you of her hands. The photograph of your grandfather on the dance floor might remind you of how he always danced like nobody was watching. The photograph of your dad giving a speech might bring back the sound of his voice. And that candid photograph of your parents sitting together at the reception? It might become one of the most meaningful photographs you own. Not because the lighting was perfect. Because they were there.
And Family Photos? Oh, Don’t Even Get Me Started.
Parents, I’m talking to you. I know you’re worried about what to wear. I know you’re wondering if the kids will cooperate. I know somebody is probably going to have a meltdown, someone will refuse to smile, and someone else will suddenly develop an intense fascination with a stick they found on the ground. It’s fine. Haha! We’ll get the beautiful family portrait. But I want the other stuff, too.
I want the way your little boy wraps his arms around your neck. The way your daughter scrunches up her nose when she laughs. The way your kids pile onto you even though you just wanted ONE photograph where your hair looked decent. I want the chaos that makes your family YOUR family. Because someday, your house might be quiet. The toys will be gone from the living room. The shoes won’t be piled up by the door. Nobody will be yelling “MOM!” from the other end of the house approximately 47 times before lunch. And you might look at a photograph of yourself sitting in the middle of that chaos and think… God, I wish I could have just one more day like that. That’s what I want to give you.
Life Has Taught Me What Actually Matters
I wish I could say losing my sister was the only hard thing life ever handed me. It wasn’t. And while I wouldn’t wish some of those experiences on anybody, they’ve given me perspective I don’t think I could have learned from a photography workshop. Life changes. People change. People leave. Kids grow up. And sometimes the things we thought were such a big deal turn out to mean absolutely nothing compared to the things we almost overlooked.
That perspective follows me into every session. It’s why I don’t get too worked up when things aren’t perfectly posed. It’s why I pay attention to what’s happening behind me while everyone else is looking straight ahead. It’s why I might keep photographing even after you think the moment is over. Because sometimes the best part happens right after everyone stops trying to look perfect. And because I know that 20 or 30 years from now, you might see something in one of those photographs that you didn’t even notice was there.
I’m Always Photographing for Someone 30 Years From Now
Here’s a question I quietly ask myself when I’m working. How can I make this photograph mean MORE in 20 or 30 years than it does today? It’s a strange way to think about photography, I suppose. Most people are thinking about what will look good on their walls or what they’ll post on social media next week. And those things matter. I want you to LOVE your photographs right now. But I’m also thinking about the future version of you. The version whose kids have grown up. The version who has celebrated anniversaries and birthdays and graduations. The version who might be missing someone who was standing right beside them in the photograph. What would that person want to remember? Would they want to see how perfectly everyone stood? Or would they want to remember the way their dad laughed? How tightly their child used to hug them? What their family felt like before everyone grew up and life moved on? I can’t know which photograph will become the important one.
Nobody can.
But I can photograph with the understanding that every ordinary moment has the potential to become extraordinary with time. And that changes what I look for.
I Want to Be a Time Traveler
I know. Sounds a little ridiculous. But hear me out. Photography is probably the closest thing we have to time travel. A photograph can take you back to a room you haven’t walked into in 30 years. It can remind you of the way someone used to smile at you. It can bring back a laugh you haven’t heard in decades. For a second, you can almost smell the perfume they wore. Hear the music that was playing. Feel their arms wrapped around you. You’re not just remembering what happened. You’re remembering what it felt like to be there. And THAT is what I want my photographs to do.
I want them to take you back. Back to when your kids still fit on your lap. Back to when your parents were younger. Back to the day you married your favorite person, surrounded by all the people who helped make you who you are. Back to a version of your life that you didn’t realize you’d someday miss. Because I know what it’s like to stare at an old photograph and wish, more than anything, that I could climb inside it for just five more minutes. Five minutes to hear her laugh. Five minutes to see her face move instead of being frozen in a school portrait. Five minutes to just be sisters again. I can’t have those five minutes. But maybe, through the photographs I create, I can give somebody else a little piece of theirs.
So When You’re Choosing a Photographer, Ask Them Why.
Not just what camera they use. Not just whether their editing style is trendy. Not just whether they can recreate that photograph you saved on Pinterest. Ask them what they notice. Ask them what they want you to feel when you look at your photographs years from now. Ask them what makes a photograph meaningful to them. Because a photographer’s perspective influences what they see, what they anticipate, and what they choose to preserve.
There are incredibly talented photographers with all kinds of stories, and I don’t believe mine is the only reason to care deeply about this work. But it is MY reason. And it means I will never see your photographs as just another gallery to deliver. They’re pieces of your life. Pieces of people you love. Pieces of a story that will keep changing long after I’ve put my camera away. So yes, I can show you what you looked like.
I’ll make sure the lighting is beautiful, your angles are flattering, and your photographs are something you’re proud to display. But what I really want? I want you to open your gallery 30 years from now and feel something. I want you to remember the sound of the laughter. The weight of that little hand in yours. The way it felt to be surrounded by your favorite people.
Anyone can show you what life looked like.
I want to remind you what it felt like.
And if I can give you even a handful of the photographs I wish I had of Nicole, then I know I’m doing exactly what I was meant to do.
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Jen McKen is a wedding and family photographer based in Blairsville, Pennsylvania, serving Indiana County and Western Pennsylvania. With more than 20 years of experience, she specializes in beautiful, honest, emotionally meaningful photography that preserves not only how life looked, but how it felt.
If you want your wedding or family photographs to mean as much decades from now as they do today, let’s create something worth remembering.
Frequently Asked Questions
What’s the difference between posed and candid photography?
Posed photography uses intentional direction to create flattering, composed portraits. Candid photography captures genuine interactions and moments as they happen. Both have value, and I use both during weddings and family sessions. You deserve beautiful portraits AND photographs that capture the personalities and connections that make your story unique.
Can you capture candid moments during a family session with young children?
Absolutely. Some of my favorite moments happen when children are simply being themselves. I guide families when needed, but I also leave room for natural interactions, laughter, snuggles, and yes, a little chaos. You don’t have to have perfectly behaved children to have meaningful family photographs.
How do I choose a wedding photographer who captures real emotions?
Look beyond the highlights on Instagram. Ask to see complete wedding galleries and pay attention to the moments between the formal portraits. Look for genuine expressions, family connections, and storytelling throughout the day. Most importantly, choose someone whose approach and personality make you comfortable enough to be yourselves.
Do we still get traditional family or wedding portraits?
Of course! Meaningful photography doesn’t mean abandoning beautiful portraits. I’ll help with posing, flattering light, and making everyone look their best. My goal is to create a gallery that includes both the photographs you planned for and the moments you didn’t even realize you needed.
