Recording a family portrait

Source A: an original contemporary non-fiction-style account.

We took the family photograph in my sister's garden, using a phone balanced on a small tripod. Nobody had booked a photographer. My nephew set a timer, ran into the group and discovered that the dog had left. We tried again. The screen let us inspect each attempt immediately: closed eyes, half a face behind a shoulder, somebody laughing at the wrong moment. There was no additional charge for another picture, and no reason to stop except the patience of the people standing in the sun.

After twelve attempts, we chose one in which everyone was visible and almost nobody looked formally prepared. My sister cropped out the washing line and adjusted the brightness. Copies reached relatives abroad before we had put the chairs away. They replied with comments and older photographs, turning one garden scene into a small exchange across several homes. My mother asked for a print. The rest of us had already saved the image in more places than we could readily name, which did not necessarily mean we would find it easily in ten years.

The process was quick, flexible and largely in our hands. We could decide when to try again, which version to keep and who should receive it. What we lacked was anyone outside the family directing the arrangement. The dog remained a problem, and the best background was occupied by the compost bin. Our photograph was less polished than a studio portrait might have been, but it recorded the afternoon with some of its disorder still attached.

Source B: an original letter in a nineteenth-century voice. This is a period-voice simulation, not an archival document.

Dear Clara, yesterday we attended the photographer's rooms for the family portrait Mother has long desired. An appointment had been made, and we arrived in clothes which seemed designed to prevent comfortable sitting. The photographer placed Father in a chair and arranged the rest of us about him. He moved my shoulder twice and asked my brother to lower his chin. A painted screen stood behind us. The room in the eventual picture will therefore resemble no room we possess, though I am told the effect will be handsome.

We were required to remain still while the exposure was made. My brother chose this moment to feel an itch upon his nose and was warned not to move. There was no picture for us to examine immediately afterwards. The photographer said we could return when the print was prepared and gave us a date. Mother has paid for several copies, one of which is intended for you. Until they are ready, we must rely upon his judgement that everyone occupied the proper position at the proper instant.

I look forward to seeing it, though I confess some anxiety that my expression will be more solemn than anyone who knows me would recognise. The sitting was a special undertaking, arranged in advance and directed at every stage. We could not casually repeat it later that afternoon if a face displeased us. Yet perhaps that difficulty will make us keep the result carefully. Mother has already cleared a place for it, while you must wait for both the photographer's work and the post before deciding whether we look like ourselves.

Use details from both sources to summarise what you understand about the differences in how the family photographs are produced and shared.