I’m Embarrassed to Admit I Was a Professional Photographer and Still Didn’t Get The Depth of This...

 

I had all of the credentials. A degree in photography. Awards. Photographs featured in magazines and on billboards. I had spent decades capturing memories for literally thousands of people.

And I thought that was it.
I thought the important part of preserving memories was simply taking the photograph in the first place.

But I’m embarrassed to admit there was something deeper it took some very unusual circumstances for me to fully understand. 

Even after spending my entire adult life as a professional photographer, I still didn’t truly understand how fragile memories really were. 

I thought if people had photographs, that meant they were safe. I assumed people understood how important those pictures were and how to protect them. I thought capturing the moment was the hard part and everything after that was simple.

I didn’t yet understand that preserving memories is an entirely different thing.

Then Hurricane Ian hit Southwest Florida.

 

Like everyone here, I watched people lose homes, businesses, keepsakes, and pieces of their lives overnight. But what affected me most were the photographs.

The family albums covered in mud. Waterlogged baby pictures spread across driveways to dry in the sun. Wedding portraits permanently fused together after sitting in floodwater for days.

And then people started bringing those memories to me.

Boxes filled with soaked photographs. Torn albums. Faces barely visible beneath mud and water stains. 

Strangers standing in front of me holding what was left of their family history asking, “Is there anything at all that can be saved?”

So I started helping however I could.

I went into damaged homes. I carried thousands of photographs back to my house. I sat washing mud from family pictures at my kitchen counter late into the night. I did it for strangers because suddenly these weren’t just damaged prints to me anymore. They were pieces of entire lives.

I remember holding photographs of people I would never meet and somehow understanding exactly how much they mattered. A faded snapshot of someone’s parents who had long since passed away. Baby pictures from a childhood that could never be recreated. Ordinary moments that probably did not seem extraordinary when they were taken, but had slowly become priceless simply because time had passed.

That experience changed something in me forever.

 

For the first time, I fully understood that photographs are not just pictures. They are emotional artifacts. Proof that we were here. Evidence that we loved each other. Tiny frozen fragments of lives that continue moving whether we are ready for them to or not.

And once you’ve seen people lose those memories forever, you stop seeing photographs as pieces of paper. You start seeing them as pieces of a life.

 

What started as me quietly sharing emergency photo salvage tips online eventually became something much bigger than I ever expected. One moment I was posting advice to social media from Southwest Florida, and the next I was sitting in national television interviews talking about photo preservation with everyone from Kelly Clarkson to David Muir.

Today, that work is still a part of my everyday life and it permanently changed the way I view photographs.

As I update this post, it has now been several years since Hurricane Ian, but I will never again look at a photograph as just a digital file or a piece of paper. I know now that photos are never just “content” for social media or something meant to disappear onto a forgotten hard drive. They are pieces of a family’s history. Tiny fragments of time that eventually become priceless.

And honestly, that experience changed the way I photograph people too.

When I photograph a wedding, I know I’m not just documenting a timeline of events. I’m preserving the way someone looked at their father during a dance. The way grandparents quietly held hands during the ceremony. The tiny expressions and fleeting interactions nobody realizes are important until years later when they suddenly become everything.

And when I photograph families on the beach at sunset, I know I’m not just creating “nice pictures.” I’m helping someone hold onto a season of life that will disappear faster than they think it will. The missing teeth. The way mom looks at her child. The laugh that only existed in that exact season of life.

I think that’s why candid moments matter so much to me now. Why I care so deeply about photographing every family member, every relationship, every subtle interaction. Because one day, these ordinary moments become the most valuable things we have left.

That understanding changed not only the way I preserve photographs… but the way I take them.

If you’re still reading along in my story here and thinking “I want photographs that are more than just ascetically beautiful too”, you are what I call a picture person... A person who gets the true value of a photo! 

I absolutely care about creating beautiful images like that. I want you to love the way your photographs look today. But I also photograph with the future in mind. I pay attention to the tiny in-between moments and the subtle interactions that one day will mean everything. Because years from now, these photographs will become more valuable than any of us realize in the moment.

So if you’re here reading this and thinking, “I want photographs that feel like that,” I would truly love to talk with you.

Whether you are planning a wedding, documenting your family on the beach at sunset, or simply wanting to preserve this chapter of life before it changes, I would be honored to help you tell that story. Simply reach out through this contact form and let's start a conversation! 

 

And if you’re STILL reading along and quietly wondering if your own photographs would survive a disaster… I want you to know I have resources to help you with that too! 

Since Hurricane Ian, I’ve continued sharing photo safety education everywhere I can. I’ve spoken on national stages, appeared in television interviews across the country, written books, created courses, and spent countless hours helping people learn how to protect the memories they would be devastated to lose.

Today, that work continues through my books, Beyond the Storm and One Day Photo Reset, along with courses and resources designed to help people safely organize, back up, and preserve both print and digital photographs before disaster ever has the chance to decide their future.

And honestly, one of the most meaningful things to come from all of this has been realizing how many other people care about photographs the way I do. I have developed a large Instagram and YouTube following where those fellow picture people share their love of pictures and interest in keeping them safe. 

That community also led to a new annual tradition. I now host a photography retreat at sea called the Great Photo Voyage, where Picture People from all over gather for a week of photography, storytelling, creativity, memory keeping, and conversations about why these moments matter so much to us in the first place.

Because after everything I witnessed following Hurricane Ian, I understand something now that I wish I had fully understood years ago:

Photographs are never just pictures.

They are pieces of a life.

And they deserve to be protected like they are.

How To Salvage Flood Damaged Photographs

You can save the pictures! Don't give up on flood damaged pictures too quickly. Many can be saved.

1. Take phone pictures of them. If they are snapshots or just fun memories, just get a photo of them on your phone. We found the app Photomyne is an easy way to capture groups of pictures on your cell phone. I would definitely suggest this for less important pictures that you just want to have a memory of. Nothing that you would be framing or ever want an enlargement of. Currently Chatbooks is offering free reprints for hurricane victims. This is another great opportunity to get new pictures of those old memories.

2. It's important to move quickly. Mold will start to set in fast, so get them out of the albums and frames. Then lay them out to dry.

3. Don't force them out of their album or frame. If they are sticking to the glass of a frame or the plastic get everything else away from them and then let them out to dry that way.

4. If they are irreplaceable images and you want to have them professionally restored, put them in the freezer to stop from growing mold. Then when you have time you can get them to a professional who can salvage them.

3. For most film camera images (anything from the 70's 80's and 90's) you can literally rinse them off in clean water and lay them out to dry. Once completely dried, press them under a book to get them flat again.

4. for images that were made on an at home digital printer, or I'm finding a lot of Santa pictures and things like that that were printed on site, you have to be a lot more careful. Their inks are not lasting. Definitely take a phone picture of those ASAP. Do as little handling as possible and just get them out to dry.