Twenty Years Between Photos: What Actually Happens During a Couples Photo Session in San Diego

A couple reached out a while back who hadn't had a professional photo taken together in over twenty years. They'd been married a lot longer than that — neither of us could pin down the exact number, which became its own joke later in the session — but the photos themselves were two decades overdue. They just wanted something that showed who they actually are now.

A few days before the shoot, I called to confirm the plan — where we'd meet, what time, anything on their mind. That call isn't really about logistics. It's the last chance to answer a question before someone shows up nervous about an hour they don't know how to fill.

We met at Powerhouse Park in Del Mar. The sky was overcast that day, which sounds like bad luck for outdoor photos, but it isn't — the clouds did the job a diffuser would, softening the light across both of their faces instead of cutting the harsh shadows direct sun leaves behind. I'll take an overcast afternoon over harsh sun most days.

The first few frames were stiff. You could see it — the kind of careful, posture-adjusted stillness people default to when a camera's pointed at them and nobody's told them what to do with their hands. So I stopped directing and started asking questions instead. "Tell me the story of how you two met," I said, then added that I was sure there were two completely different versions depending on who was telling it — I ask it the way a detective questions two suspects separately, and married that long, they still couldn't agree on whose idea the first date even was. That got the first real laugh of the day. Then I asked what the secret was to lasting this long together.

That's when the session actually started. They stopped performing for the camera and started talking to each other. Between setups they'd rub each other's arms, sneak in a kiss nobody asked for, crack jokes back and forth that had nothing to do with me. I wasn't directing a couple's photo session anymore. I was just the person lucky enough to be standing there with a camera while two people who'd clearly been doing this — being together — for a very long time did the thing they're good at.

The gallery takes one to two weeks to put together. I send it by email and follow up with a text so it doesn't get lost, along with a note that I'm available for any questions about viewing the gallery, downloading files, or ordering prints — all of which happens right there in the gallery itself. A few weeks after that, I'll ask how the experience was, partly because I actually want to know, and partly because a testimonial from a couple who hadn't done this in twenty years is worth more than anything I could write about myself.

You don't need an anniversary, an excuse, or two decades to wait. If this sounds like an hour you and your partner could use, message me — let's get it on the calendar.

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Stop Posing. Start Playing. (Nobody Loves Their Yearbook Photo . Everyone Relives the Ones on the Fridge)