The Beauty of Candid Photos: Why the Unposed Moments Matter Most

Growing up, my grandpa always had a camera in his hand. It was practically an extension of him—either hanging around his neck or tucked into the camera bag he carried everywhere. That same camera bag now lives with me, still holding one of his old cameras like a time capsule from my childhood.

He never went anywhere without it until his health made it too difficult to get up and down to take pictures.

I still don’t exactly know what a Canon Rebel camera is, but I’ll never forget the term. He was always looking for new lenses, always tinkering with gear, always ready to take a shot. He used to talk all the time about what he’d do if he ever won the lottery—and one of the first things on his list was always to buy his dream camera.

Most of the time, he photographed nature: trees, skies, flowers, mountains, lakes. As a kid, I didn’t really understand the appeal. Why take pictures of a field when there are people all around? But in my early twenties, when I started hiking and backpacking, I finally got it. A photo of a mountain isn’t just about the mountain—it’s about the feeling you had when you stood there, breathing it in.

And then there were the candid photos.

He was the king of catching people off guard. Mid-bite, mid-laugh, mid-sneeze—it didn’t matter. He’d snap the photo without warning, and we’d all roll our eyes. “Grandpa, why now?” we’d groan as we looked at yet another picture of someone with their eyes closed or their mouth full. We gave him so much crap for it.

But now, in my mid-thirties, I look at those photos differently.

I have a family of my own. And like so many moms, my phone is overflowing with photos of my child. I’m always trying to get the “perfect” picture—asking him to smile, pose, stand still. Most of the time, he pulls a silly face or gets distracted by something else.

But here’s the thing: the best photos are rarely the posed ones.

The best photos are when he’s laughing at his own joke. When he’s lost in play. When he’s snuggled up in his dad’s arms and doesn’t know I’m there, quietly watching.

They’re not perfect—but they’re real.

The older I get, the more I’ve learned to love the imperfections in old photos. A little blur. A cluttered background. A face caught mid-expression. Those are the moments that tell the truth. The candid ones. The in-between ones. The human ones.

And that’s where the beauty lives.

That old camera bag reminds me every day: don’t wait for the perfect shot. Capture the moment. The messy, joyful, fleeting, ordinary moments. They’re what you’ll treasure most.

“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” — Dr. Seuss

What’s your favorite candid photo—and what story does it tell?