Moments Continued · Page Two
Wedding
Audrey came down the historic staircase at The Orlo with her train trailing behind her and her father holding her hand at the elbow, and the whole house went still. The ceremony was outside, in the courtyard, under the magnolia. Afterward, Patrick's mother told me she hadn't seen her son cry since he was seven.
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Wedding
Vivian and Christopher gave themselves a wide afternoon at the Ringling courtyard — long enough for two glasses of champagne, a slow walk through the rose garden, and an unscheduled twenty minutes of just sitting on a bench together while their families found their seats. The slowest weddings, almost without exception, make the best photographs.
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Destination
Three days on the cliffs above Positano. Lemon trees, hand-thrown pasta, a welcome dinner that ran until just before sunrise. Camille wore a Galia Lahav gown that her mother had altered the morning of, and Luca's grandfather gave a toast in Italian that no one translated. They didn't need to.
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Wedding
Hotel Haya is a city wedding venue that somehow still feels intimate — brick courtyards, wrought-iron balconies, the small clatter of espresso cups from the lobby. Isabel wore her grandmother's mantilla veil and Marcus saw her for the first time at the end of a long terrazzo hallway. He stopped walking. He had to be reminded to keep going.
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Essay · The Craft
Color records the wedding. Black and white records the feeling. There is a frame from almost every wedding I photograph that only works without color — usually a quiet one, between moments — and I have come to think of those photographs as the ones that hold up the longest. They are the ones the bride sends her grandmother. They are the ones, twenty years from now, that will still feel like the day.
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