Today we’d like to introduce you to Neely Ker-Fox.
Neely, can you briefly walk us through your story – how you started and how you got to where you are today.
After graduating from the University of Georgia with a degree in advertising, I went to work at an ad agency and soon realized corporate creativity wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as I had imagined. Before switching my major to advertising, I was an art major. Art had fundamentally been a part of my life as long as I could remember. My parents were always my biggest supporters, allowing me to enter my work into art contests as early as 1st grade. Some of my earliest memories revolve around my creative upbringing. So, when advertising wasn’t my calling, and it was evident I wasn’t going to be using that degree to its full potential, I was terrified my parents would voice their concerns. That never happened. Just over a year after graduating, with my parents and my husband’s support, I decided to go professional with my photography. All in. No looking back. And it’s been nothing short of a whirlwind. I started out doing what all photographers do, dabbling in anything and everything. Do you shoot engagements? Sure! What about a newborn? Heck yes. Commercial? Bring it. For five years, my bread and butter was wedding and commercial work. I was shooting destination weddings from Houston to Detroit. I was also doing commercial photography, most notably, Jeff Foxworthy. Life was good. But that was only the prologue of my career so far. The previous year I had a military wife contact me to do a maternity session for her husband who was stationed overseas. The session was beautiful, and I returned home to edit and put together a complimentary album I wanted to gift her.
A couple of weeks later, I got a phone call from her sister, I was thinking it was the celebratory call letting me know the baby had been born. Instead, through tears, she told me my client had lost the baby just days before her due date. Her husband was home less than 24 hours, felt his son move, and then they suffered the most unimaginable loss. Later that spring, I ran into her at a local store and she had a proposition for me. She was expecting again, and she wanted to know if I would come and photograph the birth. I was also pregnant, just two months behind her with my first child. I don’t even think I hesitated or stopped to think, I just said YES! I was there in the room the day her rainbow son was born. I photographed life, I photographed joy, I photographed grief, I photographed humanity that day. There was no greater feeling in the world witnessing birth, and knowing the impact these photos have on families and generations to come. I went into birth photography, unlike many others. I think there is often a misconception that it’s all this beautifully packaged story filled with happy endings. But I came into this career seeing the best and the worst a family can face. These boys and their mom and dad have forever impacted my life and the trajectory of my career. It has and always will be my honor to tell the world of Cale and Finn, and how their lives changed mine.
Has it been a smooth road?
Thank goodness my journey has not been easy! Where is the fun in that? As creatives, if we aren’t being challenged we aren’t growing. But let’s be real, those valleys suck when you’re in them. Back in 2008 when I first started to dabble in birth photography, I don’t think I could’ve named more than 10 photographers in the entire country that were doing it, let alone specializing in it and making a living off of it. 11 years into this gig and I still get the tilted head and polite nod when people ask me what I do, and I respond with Birth Photography. Either that or people think I literally “shoot birds”, yes birds, which equally confounds them. But dang we’ve come a long way bringing this genre to where it is now. It took YEARS to get to where I am. Years to gain enough knowledge about the birth process to be confident in how to honor that sacred space. Years to build the relationships within the medical community to be granted the access I am often given. I get the shots I often do, because there is trust. They trust me and know me. That is huge and does not come overnight. So, my first piece of advice is to be patient, master the art of empathy, and always seek humility. You are a vessel, a tool, hired to tell THEIR story. I think it’s a similar feeling for anyone who has fought for progress in any field: We simply hope that newcomers understand there are those that paved the way and laid the groundwork for this genre to even exist. Be good stewards of our legacies and decade(s) of hard work. I don’t know any other genre that has the liabilities and emotional weight that ours does; the intimacy of labor, the vulnerability our clients invite us in to witness, life and death, unpredictable hours, on-call life. It truly is a calling. When you step into that space, you represent us all as birth photographers. Another piece of advice I would give to any creative, find time for self-care. I know that is a trendy phrase these days, but dang it’s vital to our success. See, we love what we do, we are often so passionate and invested in what we do, truly loving it and rarely thinking of it as work, that we often lose sight of ourselves. It happened to me. Being on-call for years, living in a continual state of alert for 3 am “my water broke” phone calls, the adrenaline rush that consumes my body during labor, and the inevitable hangover and recovery the next day, I burnt out. My family life had taken a hit. My health was in the crapper. It was a huge wake-up call. If I didn’t step away, I might never return. I took a 6-month sabbatical and it was the best thing I’ve ever done. I think women are such nurturing creatures innately, that self-care seems foreign initially. Let me tell you, it’s never selfish, it’s essential.
So let’s switch gears a bit and go into Ker-Fox Photography story. Tell us more about the business.
In short, I am a storyteller, both visually and verbally. I specialize in Birth and Family Documentary photography. Once I shot that first birth, and shortly after became a mother myself, the heart and drive behind my work shifted. I craved to snatch these fleeting moments, like fireflies on a summer night, before they disappeared. I began to realize the art of anticipation and capturing life as it was happening, real, and messy, and imperfect was far more creatively fulfilling for me than manufacturing moments in portrait work. I wanted to show other mothers that birth could be beautiful and raw. I wanted to empower women to love and trust their bodies, and to not fear the birth process. I wanted these photos to have the ability to lift the veil of mystery of birth for young girls and boys. I wanted to shoot family sessions that aren’t perfect, that meltdowns and tears were part of this season. Don’t wipe her snotty nose, or hide her scuffed knee. These are the details of childhood. They shouldn’t be erased or photoshopped out. Don’t stuff that load of laundry into your bedroom closet, or pack away the Legos that stipple the living room carpet. Perfect is boring. Normal is boring. Imperfection, that’s where life is. This job has brought me many wonderful memories, and moments of feeling like my work mattered and made a difference. But there is one in particular that has always stayed with me. A few years ago, clear drapes started to become available for cesarean mothers. I had been seeing them in the birth community via colleagues in other parts of the country. I knew we had to get them into our hospitals locally. Because of the relationships I had built, I felt comfortable enough approaching them to order these. A couple of months later and they were a reality at both of our hospitals and I was shooting my first clear drape c-section. The mom was able to lift her head up and see her son being born. I grabbed a shot that I immediately knew was special, and with mom’s consent shared a few on Instagram. An OB in South America saw these photos, commented on the post, and then sent me a private message. He had never seen this offered before. He was moved and he wanted this for his patients.
A month later, he tagged me in a post, a photo of his first clear drape cesarean. In the post, he thanked me for sharing that photo. Because of that photo, he advocated for his patients and became the first doctor in his country to offer that to his c-section patients. I’ve known that our photos hold double meaning, obviously, they are treasured by our clients, but they can educate and empower entire communities, and make lasting impacts on choices for women for generations. I’m not quite sure what sets me apart from others, but I’d like to hope it has something to do with empathy. My dad always told me my “feelers” were pointed out into the world. As I grew up, I started to know what he meant. I’m an empath through and through. I deeply feel and connect intimately to other people’s emotions and subtle nuances. I think it is a gift that has served me well in this field.
Looking back on your childhood, what experiences do you feel played an important role in shaping the person you grew up to be?
Without a doubt, my childhood impacted who I am, from the mother and wife I am to the fact that I am making a living being a creative. The arts were always appreciated and valued in my home. I made messes, I experimented, explored, invented, daydreamed. I was encouraged and supported, while simultaneously allowed to fail. Again, those valleys suck, but they are necessary for growth, even as a child. Thank goodness my parents understood that. My earliest memories of loving art and knowing it made me feel happy and a sense of self was 1st grade and it never stopped. I entered art contests, won some, lost more. By the time I got to high school, I knew I wanted to “be an artist” for a living, my senior year nearly all of my core classes were satisfied, and 6 of my 8 classes that year were art. I lived in that room. My art teacher, Ms. Williams would have a lasting impact on my artistic future. Her belief in me set me on a path to success. We’ve kept in touch for over 15 years.
I would have graduate and go onto study art and art history at the University of Georgia. While there, I found “my people”. Sleep and showers were superfluous. Wine and late nights at the studio were obligatory. After graduating and entering the real world. The corporate world. It felt like I was having to sell a part of my happiness. I was a graphite and charcoal portrait artist, often hired to draw portraits for families. I began taking photos of my clients to draw from, and soon realized I got the same, if not more creative gratification from the photograph itself than the week-long drawings I was creating. The tides started to turn and I was making almost as much money as a photographer, as I was at my advertising job. Comfort drives complacency and I knew I would have to be uncomfortable, and possibly go without to dig deep and make myself succeed. So, I jumped. All in. And had my family and husband’s support the entire time. As a mother to growing children, I see their creative talents and I nurture them every chance I get. Any art show or gallery opening, and they are there. Just last week, I had 9 pieces in a show, I could’ve had the night to myself, but I wanted them there. I wanted them to see other types of art. I wanted them to see their mom and all the hard work I put into the pieces and the show. I wanted them to mingle and talk and ask questions. I want them to know they can do anything, and I will always support them.
Pricing:
- Birth packages starting at $2850
- Family Documentary starting at $750
Contact Info:
- Website: www.KerFox.com
- Email: neely@kerfox.com
- Instagram: www.instagram.com/kerfoxphotos
- Facebook: www.facebook.com/kerfoxphotography
Image Credit:
Neely Ker-Fox
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