The Wedding of Madison & Fisher

Witnessing Madison and Fisher’s love began years before I photographed their wedding. I have paid attention to the quiet moments throughout our friendship, marked by knowing glances, interlaced fingers, and above all, the way they constantly show up for each other.

I can speak about love in a general sense by saying that love is continuation. I can also speak about love in a specific way. It is in the little things, particularly their tender hellos and goodbyes to each other as the three of us linger in conversation. I always hoped I would find a love like theirs.

Jumping ahead a few years, during Madison and Fisher’s wedding ceremony, the officiant urged the crowd to consider our own loved ones—our spouses, our parents. I thought about Jeff and my parents and put down my camera. I needed to be fully present in this sacred moment unfolding before my eyes. It is no coincidence that my own wedding was almost exactly one year ago, off by one day.

I was not there to simply photograph a wedding, or attend two dear friends’ wedding. I had been tasked with something else: to show up for myself through showing up for others. Being an artist is a privilege. I am here to witness connection at its most terrifying, beautiful, intimate—that is the heart of my work.

I thought of the strength it takes to commit your life to someone else, for you are also committing to yourself. It requires celebrating every part of yourself. This is why these images feel so close to me; I was reflecting on my own journey of self-love.

It was just me, Madison, and my Hasselblad in the morning light during this photograph, her shoulder ablaze in light and flowers fading into the background. Neither of us were certain what the day would hold, but we were there together.

We shared a moment here as well, my camera capturing a fleeting smile, with the overwhelming presence of her and Fisher’s closest family members propelling them into this next phase of life.

In the silence before the ceremony began, I made this photograph of Fisher.

Fisher spoke at my own wedding, and I am grateful I could do the same in my own way. I think we were all holding a collective breath in this moment. Just minutes later the two of them would walk through their gathering of people, some with silent tears running down their faces, some smiling, some clapping, and all there to celebrate a love where there has never been question.

A wedding photographer pays attention not just day-of, but during solitary hours for weeks after the event. I lived with these images, making careful edits, but mostly reliving the joy of that weekend. Every guest was brimming with love and communion. I think especially of the mothers, Memory and DeAnna, who shared with me that they had only met in person a few times, but regularly talk on the phone for hours. You would guess they had known each other for a lifetime. The love they have for each other and for their children is immeasurable.

This photograph may not be “perfect.” The leaves of the tree are the focal point rather than their eyes, but I chose to include it anyway. There is care in the lush, layered greens of this image, in the harmony between the patterned dresses and the details of the bouquet. If I had cared more about nailing the focus I would have missed the mothers’ embrace and their soft expressions.

I may have two degrees in photography, but nothing ever prepares me for the moment I press the shutter. In this case, everywhere I turned was rich with laughter and light. I learned a lot photographing this wedding, and in the end I feel lucky—to be a guest with a camera, a friend with the great privilege of documenting such a beautiful, transient moment.