How do you tell a story without people? With just space and things? Things that don’t laugh or dance or have tongues to stick out at you or wild, curly hair? If you’re neurotic, you wander your house for days, taking pictures and discarding them, plagued by a vague existential angst that whatever you deem worth sharing will now define you. Do I show you my mess? Do you I show you my style? (Do I have any style?) Do I stick to the safety of the kids’ rooms, confident that I at least know who they are, if I can’t always say the same for myself. I feel ridiculously self-conscious, and sympathetic on a whole new level for clients who frantically clean before a session. In the end, as with most things, I ran out of time. This pictures aren’t the whole story, but they’re a story nonetheless. They are pieces of home. They are pieces of me.
My name is Rebecca Ratcliffe and I am a natural-light documentary and lifestyle family photographer. I am also a mom, a former writer and editor, a reluctant suburbanite, a gardener, and a bit of a rambler. I usually have dirty floors and sometimes have a good reason for it. I am awesome at Tetris and terrible at parallel parking. I like coffee, Walt Whitman and kids in pajamas.