The way morning light crossed the kitchen counter. The view from the window where you always stood to think. The sound of the door that meant someone was home. These details fade faster than you'd expect—but there's a way to hold onto them.
Why this matters
You know how you can close your eyes and still walk through your childhood home? How you remember exactly where the creaky floorboard was, or the way the afternoon sun hit the kitchen counter?
Those details fade faster than you'd think. Within a year of moving, the specifics start to blur. The exact color of the walls. The view from the bedroom window. The sound the back door made when it closed.
The details fade faster than you'd think.
A few years ago, my wife and I left a house we loved. It was a 1960s place with more character than square footage—a sunroom where we'd take afternoon naps, windchimes on the fig tree in the backyard, the spot in the living room where our son learned to walk. I can still close my eyes and move through nearly every inch of that house.
But here's the thing: I didn't know I'd miss it that much when we were still there. The house we're in now, I know I'll grieve it too someday. I just can't feel it yet. That's how it works. You don't recognize what a space meant until you've left it.
This isn't about creating a real estate video or a polished production. It's about giving you something to return to. A way to walk through those rooms again, years from now, when you need to remember what it felt like to stand in your own kitchen on a Tuesday morning.
Some places deserve to be remembered exactly as they were.
No commitment. Just a conversation.
Who this is for
The house where you became who you are. Where the years stacked up without you noticing. Where the growth chart is still penciled on the doorframe. You're not just selling square footage—you're closing a chapter.
The house where Mom always had coffee ready. Where Dad kept the garage just so. Whether they've passed on or are moving to a new chapter, you're the one closing this door. Before the estate sale, before the cleanout, before strangers walk through—there's a chance to preserve what this place meant to them, and what it still means to you.
The shop you built from nothing. The counter where you've stood through good days and hard ones. Locking up for the last time deserves more than just a set of keys left behind.
What this looks like
Every place is different. Every person's relationship to their space is different. So there's no one-size-fits-all approach here.
Some people need to say it out loud to make it real. You guide me through, room by room, sharing stories as they come to you.
For when you know what you want to say but need space to find the words. Your voice over cinematic footage, recorded separately.
Sometimes the room speaks for itself. Atmospheric footage with carefully chosen music. No words needed.
I can come before you've packed, when the furniture is still there, the photos are on the walls, and the space still looks like yours. Or after, when it's empty and echoing, and you can see the bones of the place. Or both. We'll figure out what feels right.
Everyone who wants to be. Family members can share their own memories of rooms that mattered to them. Or it can be just one person. Or no one at all, just the space itself. This is your document, shaped around what feels authentic.
Properly licensed music that fits the mood. We'll find something that feels right for your space, not generic stock music, but something that matches the emotional tone of what we're creating.
A note from Kevin
I've stood in a lot of rooms that were about to become memories. For years I've filmed weddings through Heartline Films, work that taught me what it means to document moments that matter—the ones you want to return to.
But weddings are celebrations. Last Looks comes from somewhere quieter. It's for the endings, the closings, the last time you'll walk through a door that used to be yours. Those transitions deserve the same care.
I'm based in Wilmington, North Carolina, but I'm happy to travel for the right project. There's a travel fee for locations outside the area, but some places are worth it.
— Kevin
Starting at $495
Every project is different—we'll figure out what makes sense for your place together.
If this feels out of reach but you have a place that matters to you, I'd still love to hear from you. Every home has a story worth telling, and I'd rather find a way to make it work than miss the chance to help you hold onto yours.
Get in touch
Tell me about your place. Even if you're not sure where to start.