The way I show up on a wedding day matters.
After almost a decade as an Arizona wedding photographer, I know my presence, as well as my absence, and the perception of each deeply affects my couples and their loved ones during their celebrations.
In a world centered around churning out content and being visible, a giant pool of creatives expanding to include seemingly everyone, my true art lies in slowing down and seeing the true nature of people. Existing in this world challenges the traditional fly-on-the-wall photojournalist role I always envisioned for myself, and instead prompts me to center my business around a conscious, vested investment in a couple's experience and the ways I'll influence it.
People are extremely aware of the wedding photographer. Can you even get married without one? (I say, only half-joking.) Guests search for us before assembling a group photo. They monitor our every move and are quick to follow with a pointed "Did you get that?". They invite us to take shots (alcoholic or otherwise) and join in on the festivities.
So yes, these folks are going to be heavily in tune to how the photographer drum is beating whether we want them to hear it or not. They'll mold their behavior based on the camera, and I believe much of that depends on how we present it to them. If the wedding photographer creates and leaves space for people to be human, to shift perspective to be another helpful, even loving, presence, the results will speak for themselves.
I believe that upon my hiring, my personal journey toward an intimate understanding of each of my couples — who they are, the way they show love, the things they enjoy, the people they cherish — is paramount. How they remember their day will linger long after the candles have been extinguished and the guests return to their everyday lives. These memories are the ones that will bubble to the surface with each passing anniversary, and they move beyond the surface level fanfare that is a wedding; venue, florals, decor, etc.
My true role as a wedding photographer spans so far beyond camera knowledge and photography as a craft. I bear the responsibility of successfully steering the ship, and the weight of people's expectations given the irreplaceable nature of the day. Sometimes steering shifts to cranking the wheel and dodging icebergs for all we're worth. Sometimes it's "steady as she goes." I have to be ready at the drop of a hat to accommodate either, and do it all while conveying confidence, trust, and appropriate energy. The couple won't remember my gentle suggestion to take 10 minutes out of dinner to catch the sunset, but they'll surely recall how the colors melted across the sky on their wedding day and how it felt to watch while wrapped in loving arms. The grand plans we make should all be means to a very intentional end.
The way I measure success in weddings has so little to do with how precisely the timeline was executed or how brightly the sun shone. A couple's experience really does mean everything. Their comfort and enjoyment spills over tenfold to their guests and will walk with them throughout the years to come. See that beaming couple in the middle of their packed dance floor? Their guests are like moths to a flame. A wedding can be beautiful in the way it's executed, but needs to be equally so in the way it's felt. I say this with small embarrassment but full confidence after shooting over 200 weddings thus far — I've worked both the most disorganized, frankensteined events with the most joy-filled, happy-tear-soaked, "we can't believe this is our wedding day!" people at their core, and the most pristine, choreographed, "wait did I see this in Vogue?" ones with not a smile or a squishy hug in sight, and I have to emphasize yet again that it is all about framing and perspective.
When a couple feels seen, understood, and beloved, they're lifted subconsciously onto the pedestal that showcases the best of them. How could they even dream to see themselves in their images if they are not welcomed into an environment that nurtures their personalities and honors their relationships? How can tears freely flow without any assurance they will be caught? How will smiles stretch in full force across their faces without the promise of reciprocation?
I will always be the wedding photographer who cherishes people. I'm talking to my couples from day one about what they love most about the other. I'm prompting them to tell me about their favorite cousin who makes them belly laugh with just one look, the obnoxious but lovable uncle who always tells the exact same story after four beers, and the college best friend who played professional matchmaker and is the reason we're all here today. I don't just love getting the friends and family tea. It's my ultimate tool. I know who to scan for. I know whose arrival to anticipate. I know why that face will be framed for generations.
On a wedding day you'll find me locked in on my couples; their ultimate advocate, ready to dive in between them and the speeding bullet train that is someone out to wreck their good vibes. My head will always be on a swivel. I'm anticipating hugs before they happen, taking mental note of where the VIPs are seated, and noticing what small details will anchor the gallery and harness the nostalgia for recall in the surprisingly not-too-distant future.
My couples will see me seated next to their grandfather hearing stories of yesteryear and slip between their closest friends like I've belonged there all along. They'll feel gentle direction that supplements the energy of every moment, never stealing the show, but coaxing it into its truest form. They'll know that when I'm near I'm paying attention to the words said aloud, the undercurrent of feelings, and their needs before they even fully manifest. And when I'm no longer in frame, they feel the permission to relax equally as much.
The way I show up on a wedding day matters; my intentions, my approach, my energy, my "why." Weddings should be photographed with utmost care by those who recognize the role beyond their role. I've made a commitment to cherish you and yours, to know when to show up and when to stand back, and to notice all the things in between.
