An afternoon with Tina and Nico.
Tina came in with Nico, just over six months old, all rolls and dark eyes and one fist permanently in his mouth.
We spent the first part just letting him be held. Him facing out, taking in the room. Her looking down at him between frames, the way you do when you forget anyone's watching.
Then she fed him, and that's where the quiet came in. A baby at the breast is something you can't direct and can't fake. I just waited and let the light do the work.
The last stretch was skin to skin. Her back to me, Nico looking over her shoulder, one cheek pressed to hers. Nothing to hold onto in a frame like that except each other, which is the whole point.
He'll be twice this size by summer. None of it stays. That's the reason to put it on a wall.
— Tony