Bear with me if you’ve heard this story before, but I’m asked at least once a day how I got into photography. I’d love to say I got a degree in fine art, but that would be the furthest thing from the truth. The truth is, it was 2008; I was newly divorced. It was one of the darker periods of my life. I was beaten down but trying to create something new from the broken pieces of myself and my life. It seems ironic to me in retrospect, but it was at that time which photography - the same medium I’d loved in my youth - found me, again. I have a friend who says there are no coincidences, and I think she’s right. Over a decade later, I’m forgetting and remembering myself daily behind the lens of a camera. I still feel the pressure from the industry from time to time to develop a niche. It may not look like it because I photograph newborns and families and do commercial work for businesses, but I feel like my niche is love.
I document love. And, whenever possible, I do it with film.
I choose to photograph a single handful of weddings each year. I’ve received good advice from fellow photographers through the years: only blog or post about what you want to create more of. It’s not that I aspire to increase the number of weddings I photograph. But, I do seek to document more stories about love. When Instagram is long gone and nobody knows what digital files are any more, what we’ll have left are memories hopefully made sharper with photographs…and love. Love never ends.
This wedding appealed to me because it occurred at golden hour in the hill country and because the couple was allergic to big weddings and because the bride wore a vintage dress which originally belonged to the groom’s grandmother and because I got to take my original second shooter who is also my wife and because we were the only “vendors” (everyone else was friend or family) and because I got to shoot film and because when I walked to the car to leave I felt more space in my heart.