Sneak Peek of Marie + Anthony, and love notes on presence
Some weddings humble you. Some weddings make you cry. And not so much at the sappy moments - mamas wiping their eyes and grooms with kerchiefs at the alter - but more so on the car ride back home, suddenly alone in the black silence, radio off, headlights illuminating some dark country road. In those moments, only the GPS speaks. Only then do the deepest parts of my heart know how to try and explain what I’m about to explain.
I’d like to teach new photographers how to shoot weddings, but then I am exasperated instantly on how much more to it there is than where to stand and what to say. I don’t know how to possibly teach how to shoot them and how to shoot them well other than repeating myself over and over again that you have to pay attention. And I’m not talking about the moment she walks down the aisle, or when the DJ cues the first dance, or when the planner waves you over to cut the cake. I’m talking about the infinite moments dripping in between everything else. The things that make up the spine of a story - sisters holding their mouths when she walks through the door, the bedroom that is strewn with perfume and White Claws and coffee cups, swirls of hair in bobby pins and pink lipstick and dogs napping on old quilts. I’m talking about the sticks in her dress when she walks through the grass, the way his face ignites when he pulls her in close. I didn’t create any of this. I didn’t ask him to make that face, or hold her like that. I was merely a witness to its own unfolding. That is the job I have - to watch what is happening in front of me and make it art. Because it is art - all of it - the nerves and the pep talks, the best friend making your kid laugh, the chocolate smeared across little faces, the cousins piled into swings, the dogs in the lake, the next morning mamas sitting cross-legged together on the deck. I want more than anything to teach how to shoot weddings but the secret of all of it is that you have to be committed to being endlessly and hopelessly present. Because if you’re not careful, your wedding photos will turn out like everyone else’s - the neat line of groomsmen, the dress hanging from the closest window, the fingers of the newlyweds reaching for one another. Every wedding I photograph has the same general gist - there is the getting ready and the ceremony and the golden hour in the field - but every wedding gallery I deliver looks completely different.
Lately I’ve been in this artistic slump. My website sucks. I can’t get myself to post anything on social media. My body still aches from years of undiagnosed illness, my medications not yet kicking in. I don’t know where to live and feel like therefore I don’t know how my business will ever thrive. I compare myself to those with more followers than me, who seem to have all their shit figured out, and I feel like maybe I’m doing everything wrong. But then I looked through these images yesterday and they made me weep. And I thought to myself - no, this is it. This is what it’s about. This one couple’s story, messy and all. This enormous dedication I have to capturing not what something looks like but what it feels like. I don’t want my images to ever look like they could be anybody’s wedding day. I want these people to open up their gallery and feel like they just popped off the lid to an old tattered shoebox. Inside, stacks of familiarity, and family, grain and grins and blurry happiness. I want it to feel like coming home.
This is my long-winded response to the following images, a sneak peek from Marie and Anthony’s wedding weekend in the mountains of Western PA I had the privilege to capture. I know Marie from childhood, and she graciously invited me into her life this past weekend to photograph her story. It was a small wedding, but the best kind where you have the property for half a week and people come early and stay late, sleep on air mattresses on the floor and help hang string lights, play basketball and catch frogs and remind you what a wedding is all about, and what so many have lost sight of.
So to the new photographers, to the established ones still hanging dresses from windows and shooting only what exists in the Google search list for “wedding photos” : You can do better. Open your eyes to the hope and the pain, yours and others, to what surrounds you in your daily life. Do not become so accustomed to the ordinary you don’t find it extraordinary once in awhile. And to the brides-to-be, do it your way. Whatever that looks like. Whatever it feels like. Close Pinterest and close your eyes. What do you want to feel like barefoot in the grass? What is it, at the end of the day, you need to prove?
I hope you have the courage to see it and share it with the world. And I hope I get to notice it for the rest of my life.
I had this song on repeat while I was editing these, and I think it would be nice for you, too, to hear it.
This is just a tiny snippet of a whole wedding weekend, a handful of images of thousands in their folder right now. I look forward to curating their gallery over these next few weeks, and will share when it is complete.
As always, thank you to the couples and the families and the new mamas and the friends who have invited me into their days and homes and trusted me to capture who they really are. I am most passionate about photographing unposed sessions that emphasize interaction and authenticity, and hope to meet you if this sounds both lovely and terrifying.
With love,
Amanda