Dialing Into the Past: National Phone Day and the Art of Noticing

Erin Hesser | April 25, 2026

National Telephone Day is celebrated annually on April 25 to honor the invention of the telephone and its transformative impact on global communication

April 25th is National Phone Day, which feels appropriate because lately I’ve been feeling extremely aware of the passage of time, and not just because my phone keeps auto-suggesting reading glasses ads. Phones have been with us through everything. First loves. First jobs. First song ringtones (the early days when the ringer always on, and with a different song assigned to every family member), first times realizing I was definitely not on mute. They’ve evolved from clunky wall-mounted beasts with tangled cords into sleek little rectangles that now track our steps, sleep, and emotional well-being (sometimes aggressively). And yet, nothing makes you feel older faster than watching a child encounter technology from your childhood, which brings me to a recent outing with my daughter.

We were in an eclectic shop poking around after seeing the Ballet West in downtown SLC. It was one of those charming spaces that leans hard into nostalgia, when we spotted it... standing tall and proud as if it were a Claes Oldenburg art installation. An old pay phone. Receiver. Cord. Coin slot. No explanatory plaque, no velvet rope. Just… there. Like a discovered relic. My daughter stopped, stared, and said with unmistakable pride,

“I know what that is!

She said it the way museum guides identify artifacts recovered from the pyramids of Egypt. Not curiosity, authority. “It’s an old phone,” she explained. “People used those before cell phones.”  My inner dialogue said, "That's right, people, like your old mom, back in the 20th Century!" She was talking about me and didn’t even notice.  It was hilarious, and the giggles erupted.

I watched her pick up the receiver: the weight, the shape, the mystery of a phone that didn’t live in your pocket. And in that split second, I felt it, that familiar, fleeting nudge that says this is something. Not a big moment. Not a milestone. Just a beautifully ordinary intersection of past and present.

That’s the sweet spot of vernacular photography.

These are the moments that don’t announce themselves. The ones that happen between errands. Inside shops. In passing sentences that would be easy to forget, but somehow stick. They’re wonderfully candid, but they still deserve intention. Because capturing the moment isn’t the same thing as capturing it well.

Vernacular photography works best when it lives in that in‑between space: half candid, half orchestrated. You don’t stop the world, but you might shift your feet. You don’t overly pose the subject, but you notice the perspective. You let the moment stay real, while quietly asking: Where should I stand for this? What matters in the frame?

That pay phone didn’t need staging. But the angle mattered. Shooting slightly lower than my daughter, who towers over me, gives the phone a sense of life, appropriate for a proud child identifying ancient history. A shallow depth of field keeps the background quiet, letting her expression do the talking. Focus lands somewhere between the object and the observer, because really, the story lives in the relationship between the two. Purpose doesn’t mean stiffness. It means awareness. Capturing the look on her face as she played make-believe… it was truly the exact expression on my face every time I had to call collect!

It’s choosing not to bulldoze the moment with instructions, but also not to phone it in (pun unavoidable). It’s letting the candid unfold, while still being intentional about light, framing, and focus. The result feels effortless, even though it isn’t careless. On National Phone Day, I’ll do what we all do: reach for my phone before my feet hit the floor, use it to organize my day, and rely on it for approximately everything. But I’ll also think about that pay phone in that vintage shop, and my daughter, proudly recognizing it like a triumph of historical literacy.

Moments like that are easy to miss. Easier still to capture without meaning.

The real magic is stopping just long enough to recognize them, and then making the image purposeful without making it precious. Let it breathe. Let it stay human. And let it quietly tell the story of how fast everything changes… and how beautifully we notice, when we choose to.

Evolution of the Telephone

• 1876: First successful telephone call by Bell.

• 1878: First telephone exchange opens.

• 1915: First coast-to-coast U.S. call.

• 1983: First mobile phone (Motorola DynaTAC) launched.

• 1995: My first pager

• 1994: IBM Simon — first smartphone.

• 2002: My first cell phone

• 2007: Apple introduces the iPhone, integrating calling with computing and multimedia

• 2010: My first iPhone, AKA tiny pocket computer

• 2026: The moment my 16-year-old daughter came face-to-face with a real live pay phone, and the hilarity of trying to explain how collect calls worked!

Elevating Vernacular Photography...

Erin Hesser | March 25, 2026

Reflections: 1991 | In Honor of My Father, Today, On His 80th Birthday.

There’s a photograph I return to often, two girls balanced on an old stone bridge in the English countryside, caught between those years of childhood and becoming teenagers. The hills roll endlessly behind them, soft and green, like a painting that was never meant to end. One of those girls is me. The other is my sister. What you don’t see in the frame is the person who made that moment possible, my dad, standing just a few feet away, his well-worn and heavy-as-heck Nikon camera lifted to his eye.

My dad rarely vacationed without that camera. It was as much a part of him as the way he’d pause to take in a view just a little longer than everyone else. Not just on vacations and birthdays... but even if it didn’t seem to matter, he was there documenting it. Not in a staged, “everyone smiles” kind of way, but in the in-between moments.

As a kid, I didn’t fully get it. I just knew he was always watching, not in a distant way, but in a deeply present one. He saw things. He saw us. And somehow, through that lens, he taught me to see too.

That photo on the bridge is a perfect example. It isn’t posed in the traditional sense. We’re not lined up or polished. No coordinated, or preplanned matching outfits with monochromatic fashion-conscious color scheme. My sister’s stance is casual, mine is a little uncertain. There’s movement, imperfection, life. And yet, it feels composed, balanced in a way that makes the ordinary feel intentional. That was my dad’s gift: turning everyday moments into something quietly profound.

He never called it “art.” To him, it was just taking pictures. But over time, I realized he was doing something more. He was elevating vernacular photography, the kind that lives in family albums and shoeboxes, into something closer to fine art. Not because of loads of expensive lighting or elaborate setups, but because of attention, patience, and heart.

He taught me that the best photographs aren’t forced; they’re noticed. They’re felt before they’re taken.

As I grew older and picked up a camera of my own, I found myself chasing that same feeling. Not perfection, but truth. Not spectacle, but softness. I started to understand that photography isn’t just about capturing what something or someone looks like; it’s about honoring what it felt like to be there.

Worm’s Eye View vs. Low‑Angle View in Pet Photography: Why the Difference Matters

Erin Hesser | February 20, 2026

National "Love Your Pet Day"

When photographing pets, most people instinctively shoot from above, the classic “human looking down” perspective. But the magic often happens when you flip that instinct upside down and get low. Really low. Two techniques that can transform your pet pics are the low‑angle view and the worm’s eye view. While they’re related, they’re not the same, and understanding the difference can dramatically change the mood, emotion, and storytelling power of your images. Let’s break it down.

Both angles look upward, but the degree of “upward” is what sets them apart.. A low‑angle shot says, “Look at this amazing pet.” A worm’s eye view says, “Behold this legendary creature.”

What Is a Low‑Angle View?

A low‑angle view is taken from below the subject’s eye line, but not necessarily from the ground. Think of kneeling, crouching, or sitting at a low height. You’re still looking upward, but you’re not flat on the floor.

A low‑angle view is perfect for:

• Making pets look confident or heroic

• Emphasizing stature or presence

• Creating a sense of importance without distortion

• Adding drama while keeping proportions natural

In pet photography, this angle is especially great for dogs who love to pose, cats perched on furniture, or any animal that benefits from a little extra “wow” factor

What Is a Worm’s Eye View?

A worm’s eye view takes the concept of “low” to the extreme. This perspective is shot from ground level, as if you were a tiny creature looking up at the world. The camera is often placed directly on the floor, sometimes even angled sharply upward.

This technique:

• Makes pets appear massive, powerful, or larger‑than‑life

• Creates a sense of awe or whimsy

• Exaggerates height and form

• Adds a playful, surreal, or even epic quality to the image

In pet photography, a worm’s eye view can turn a small dog into a towering hero, a cat into a majestic creature, or a rabbit into a mythical forest guardian. It’s dramatic, bold, and incredibly fun.

Why You Should Use Both

Pets live close to the ground, literally. Shooting from their world creates intimacy, connection, and authenticity. But choosing between a low angle and a worm’s eye view lets you shape the story:

• Want your pet to look noble? Try a low angle.

• Want them to look epic, whimsical, or hilariously powerful? Go full worm’s eye.

• Want variety in your gallery? Mix both.

These perspectives also help you avoid the “same old pet photos” that everyone takes from above. Instead, you’re creating images that feel intentional, artistic, and emotionally rich.

Final Thoughts

Experimenting with camera height can completely transform your images. A low‑angle view adds strength and presence, while a worm’s eye view adds drama and wonder. Both perspectives invite viewers into a world where animals aren’t just subjects — they’re characters with personality, power, and story.