They say marriage is about the little things - an adoring glance, a kiss given without reason, a hot cup of coffee waiting for the sleep to rub from your eyes, an unexpected post-it love note left on the counter.
So often, people ask us, “How do you bear the weight of capturing those big moments?”
Here’s the truth—those “big” moments announce themselves. They are etched into timelines, unfolding on cue. A ceremony’s crescendo, a dance’s first steps, a toast raised high. Easy.
Our real work lies in the spaces between - in the little things.
It is in attuning ourselves to the quiet poetry of the in-between—the stolen glances, the unguarded laughter, the fingertips grazing in passing, and the way the night unravels into a beautifully disheveled hot mess of a party.
Rather than following a script, we give our intuition and curiosity full rein to guide the way- following the bellows of laughter, shamelessly eavesdropping with our cameras on conversations all around us. We feel the room's pulse and hunt for pretty, shiny things and intriguing people to photograph.
We consider ourselves a part of your wedding, experiencing every moment and connecting with people. Our presence is felt as participants — ebbing and flowing alongside everyone else and feeding off the energy around us.
As individual artists, we have our own portfolios.
We sometimes shoot separately & sometimes (love to) shoot together.
Yes, we’re married.
[portfolio]
I had a client tell me that on her Grandfather’s deathbed, his last request was to see his wedding album one last time. This story had a profound effect on me and is a touching reminder of the value and impermanence of hand-held photographs - and my role as a photographer. Knowing that my images will be viewed continuously by generations that will surpass me in existence is a strange and beautiful honor that profoundly shapes my approach and process.
My greatest gift, so Im told, is the ability to make people feel special and relaxed in front of the camera. My photo work is about connection, putting people at ease, and guiding them through the painful/scary/vulnerable feeling of being photographed. Trust is crucial, and it takes us time to get there, which is why we gift an engagement shoot to all of our couples. These sessions are, undoubtedly, the secret sauce of our process.
I shoot on a mix of digital and film cameras. Choosing which cameras I use for each wedding is led by logic, intuition, and mood. And while analog film is trending at the moment, it’s worth noting that I’ve been shooting on analog for decades.
[portfolio]
There’s this weird space I’ve found myself in, caring so much about what I do but not taking it all so seriously. It has to do with sussing out what’s actually important and what’s being forced on people by the wedding industry. There’s room to be inspired by others, but when one stops paying attention to what their peers are doing, they tend to find their own stride. That’s true for throwing a wedding, and it’s true for capturing them too.
Attention is our greatest currency, and the quality of attention we give matters deeply. Depending on the people I’m around, my mirroring shifts tone, color, and volume. Subdued when the scene is calm. Hype when the ground beneath erupts, rhyming with the timbre of the room. There’s a rebellious bone in my body, but I love fitting in, and I’m dead aware of what a walking contradiction that makes me. Life is a paradox.
I shoot intuitively on a variety of cameras and find myself constantly experimenting and refining my process. I consider myself someone who is more concerned with the emotional content of a photograph, but I love my technical side too. They sip from each others cups.