A DAD’S GUIDE TO SURVIVING A FAMILY PHOTOSHOOT
You didn’t really want to be here. I know. Most of the dads I photograph didn’t.
Your wife booked it. You said yes because saying no was going to be more effort than just going. Now you’re reading this because she sent it to you with “just have a look at this” and a smiley face.
That’s fine. You’re exactly the person I wrote this for.
You don’t need to know what to do
This is the big one. You’re imagining standing in a park with your arms by your sides while someone tells you to smile, and you don’t know where to look or what to do with your hands.
That’s not how this works. I give you something to do the entire time. Walk over there with your daughter. Pick up your son. Tell your wife something funny. Race the kids to that tree.
You’re never standing there wondering what comes next. That’s my job. Yours is just to show up and do what I say, which, honestly, is not that different from what your wife already expects of you.
You won’t look silly
You might feel silly for the first five minutes. That’s normal. But here’s what I’ve learned from photographing hundreds of families: dads stop thinking about the camera faster than anyone else. Once you’ve got a kid on your shoulders or you’re chasing someone down a path, you forget I’m there.
The photos that come out of those moments don’t look silly. They look like a dad who loves his kids. Which you are, even if you’d rather demonstrate that by building a deck than standing in a park.
I’m not going to make you pose
No crossed arms leaning against a tree. No chin on hand. No looking into the distance like you’re in a cologne ad.
I don’t pose people. I put you in a spot with good light and give you something to do with someone you love. The photos happen while you’re doing it. Most of the best shots I’ve taken of dads happened when they weren’t looking at the camera at all.
This doesn’t look like what you’ve seen online
If your only reference for family photography is what you’ve seen on Instagram, I get why you’re not keen. A lot of it looks like it was styled for a magazine. Matching outfits, perfect smiles, everyone gazing at each other like they’re in a movie.
That’s not what I do. I photograph real families being themselves. The photos look like you on a good day, not like someone else entirely.
You don’t need to be photogenic
I’ll let you in on something. The dads who think they’re not photogenic are usually the ones I get the best photos of. They’re not performing. They’re not trying to look good. They’re just there, and that honesty comes through in the photos in a way that looks better than any pose.
Your wife doesn’t want photos of you looking like a model. She wants photos of you holding your kids, laughing at something, being the dad you actually are. That’s a much lower bar than you think.

It’s an hour, not a whole day
Most sessions are 45 minutes to an hour. That includes the bit at the start where I explain what we’re doing and the bit at the end where the kids have lost interest and we wrap up. The actual shooting part in the middle goes fast.
You’ve spent longer assembling flat-pack furniture. You’ve spent longer at your in-laws making small talk. You can spend an hour in a park.
The bit nobody tells you
Here’s what actually happens. You turn up not wanting to be there. You feel awkward for a few minutes. Then you start mucking around with your kids, and your wife is laughing, and the whole thing stops feeling like a photoshoot and starts feeling like a good afternoon hanging out.
Then later the photos come back, and there’s one of you and your daughter that you didn’t even know was being taken, and you put it up somewhere. You won’t admit that it’s your favourite photo of yourself, but it is.
I know this because it happens almost every time.
One last thing
I’m a dad of two. I’ve been on both sides of this. I know what it feels like to not want to be in the photo, and I know what it feels like to be glad you were.
Your wife is right about this one. Just ask her what clothes she thinks you look good in, and show up.
— Tony
