Home for Christmas: Year One — Building Warmth from Scratch
Some projects start with an idea. Others start with a feeling. Home for Christmas: Year One was one of those projects — born not out of a marketing plan, but from a desire to give families something beautiful, personal, and timeless.
When Dawn and I envisioned Home for Christmas, we wanted it to feel immersive — not just a backdrop, but a place people could step into. A space that captured what Christmas really feels like at home: the warmth, the chaos, the laughter, and the love.
Two Worlds in One Studio
The concept was simple: two scenes, two moods, one heart.
The first was cozy — a bedroom in Christmas pajamas, soft pillows, gifts under the bed, and laughter between family members as if it were Christmas Eve.
The second was elegant — a formal living room, complete with a Christmas tree, ornaments, and families dressed for a Christmas party, caught in the act of decorating or sharing a toast.
It wasn’t just about capturing faces; it was about preserving how the season felt.
How We Built It
We poured everything we had into the set. Rustic Rabbit came on board and helped us bring it to life — crafting the hanging floral arrangements above the bed, the wreaths on the wall, and the trees that tied everything together.
We wanted texture and story in every corner. The walls with moldings were intentionally made to look weathered yet beautiful, like an old home passed down through generations. We hired local craftsmen to build them, and though they weren’t perfect, their imperfections gave the space its character.
And then came the furniture.
The king-sized bed you see in the photos? That was our actual bed. We had no choice but to move it into the studio — which meant that for weeks, we slept Japanese-style on the floor just to make room for the project.
The couch came from my cousin.
Every piece had a story, and that’s what made it real.
The Lights, The Late Nights
The shooting itself was magic — but editing? A different story.
When I first reviewed the shots, I realized something: the Christmas lights were invisible in the photos. They didn’t glow the way they did in real life, and what’s Christmas without that soft, golden shimmer?
So I decided to do it manually. I spent nights painting light onto every tree, every wreath, one at a time. It was tedious. Painful, even.
By the time Christmas Eve came around, I had friends helping me just to meet the deadline. I told myself I’d never do that again.
But when I saw the final images — the warmth, the glow, the love on every face — I knew it was worth every sleepless night.
What It Meant
Home for Christmas: Year One wasn’t just a shoot. It was a community project disguised as a set.
Families came, laughed, and made memories. Parents saw their children light up; couples rediscovered each other under the glow of a tree. We gave them something to look back on, and in return, they gave us something too — a reminder that what we do isn’t just photography. It’s preservation.
We started with a bed, a couch, a few borrowed props, and a dream. We ended with a tradition.