A Life in Black and White: My First Memoir Photography Session with Mr. Whiting
When I imagined memoir photography, I wanted to create portraits that went deeper than appearance—portraits that told a story through places, passions, and memories. I hoped to honor not just how someone looks, but who they are. My first session, with Mr. Whiting became everything I had hoped for and more.
From the moment we started, Mr. Whiting filled every moment with stories. His words were nonstop—sometimes funny, sometimes heavy, always honest. Each place we visited, each object we photographed, opened another window into his life.
We began at the house where he grew up. The home stood quietly, its walls holding both good and difficult memories. As we walked the yard and porch, he shared glimpses of his childhood: moments of joy, moments of struggle. Some stories made him smile; others carried the weight of old wounds. I tried to reflect both emotions in the photos—the strength of a man who endured, and the tenderness of a boy who grew up fast.
We began at the house where he grew up. The home stood quietly, its walls holding both good and difficult memories. As we walked the yard and porch, he shared glimpses of his childhood: moments of joy, moments of struggle. Some stories made him smile; others carried the weight of old wounds. I tried to reflect both emotions in the photos—the strength of a man who endured, and the tenderness of a boy who grew up fast.
Next, we visited his old school. This was no quick stop at the front doors; we were able to go inside, walking the same hallways he once ran through as a kid. “I got into my fair share of trouble here,” he said with a grin, pointing out the spots where old scuffles and mischief took place. But even in those lighthearted stories, you could hear a sense of survival, of learning to stand up for himself. Photographing him inside the school—by the lockers, in the classrooms—felt like capturing a quiet reunion between past and present.
One of the most powerful parts of the session came from his lifelong love of model airplanes. Though we didn’t photograph his entire collection, he told me story after story about it. Over the years, he’s filled multiple storage rooms with kits—some common, some rare, each with its own history. He spoke about the thrill of hunting down hard-to-find models, about buying and selling, trading and collecting, always chasing the next special find.
We chose a few boxes from his collection and photographed him with them in the mobile studio. Holding those unopened kits in his hands felt symbolic—dreams waiting patiently, projects he hoped to finish, flights still waiting to take off. There was a quiet poignancy in those images, capturing both his passion and the passage of time.
For another portrait, we brought in a different symbol of his life’s work: an alternator, cradled in his grease-stained hands. Though we didn’t photograph him in a shop, this image represented decades of turning wrenches, solving problems, and helping others. Mr. Whiting has spent a lifetime not only working on his own cars, for his profession , but giving his time to friends and neighbors who needed a hand. He shared stories of the cars he’s loved and the people he’s helped. I wanted this photo to honor both his skill and his generosity—a man defined as much by what he gives as what he’s built.
We finished with a series of simple black-and-white portraits—just him, no props, no setting. After spending time walking through his stories and memories, these final images felt like a closing note: stripped down, honest, a man fully himself, shaped by every joy and hardship along the way.
This session was more than photography. It was a walk through memory, a tribute to a life both ordinary and extraordinary. Some photos are light and nostalgic; others carry quiet heaviness. But together, they tell the story of a man who has lived deeply, endured much, loved generously, and still dreams of planes yet to fly.
Memoir photography isn’t about perfection or posing—it’s about preserving the stories that make us who we are. It’s about honoring the places we’ve been, the passions we’ve pursued, and the dreams we still carry.
Mr. Whiting’s story moved me deeply, and I’m honored to share a glimpse of it here.
If you—or someone you love—has a story to tell, I’d be honored to help you tell it through photography. Every life has a story worth remembering.