Life, and death, in a house

I met a lovely couple last year while shooting their kitchen for a magazine. They were friendly and intelligent. They gave me coffee and we chatted for a while after the shoot. The woman was a semi retired journalist; the husband was fully retired, I believe, and was an avid hunter. He was going to help me procure a teal (that's a real pretty duck) for a still life photo I had wanted to do. The house was a very early example of Arts and Crafts and they showed me all around the glorious main floor. I wrote down their info and meant to stay in touch.

Two weeks ago I received an email from the woman saying her husband had passed quite suddenly. She was going to move out of the big house, and was hoping I would come photograph it, in order to make a book for herself and the children.

The portrait is the husband as a young boy, and on the desk is a photo of him as a grown man, hunting, as he loved to do.

The family thoroughly inhabited every corner of this house. In photographing it, I wanted to capture the actual life of the space, and not overly style or edit. It was a different experience, shooting a house as a home, and not a showroom. A little inspiring, even. Maybe I shouldn't style the life out of the houses all the time. We take all the real stuff out and set out flowers and food and perfectly messily placed throw blankets.

I also don't often experiment with odd angles. Editors and Art Directors are so intent on parallel lines, and, for the most part, so am I. But there was no Art Director on-set. Nor was it a set.