Why I Am A Wedding Photographer
Wedding photography has been my full-time job since 2006. Before I was a wedding photographer, I specialized in portraits of babies, children and families. When asked if I photographed weddings, my answer was always an emphatic "No!" Too much pressure, too much stress…too important. I didn't think I was up to the monumental task of capturing all the things that a wedding photographer is tasked with: details, action, reaction, emotion and iconic moments in the life of a family. It was challenging enough getting a two-year old to stay still long enough to get a great shot. I knew if I really messed it up, I could re-shoot. But weddings?? A one-shot deal? No way, no how.
But then, something happened. My grandmother decided to remarry. And she asked me to photograph her wedding. I was terrified. But how do you say "no" to your grandmother? I couldn't.
So I read everything I could about wedding photography. I talked to photographers I knew who shot weddings, taking notes furiously. In the weeks leading up to my grandmother's wedding, I tested and re-tested my equipment. I practiced stopping motion. I played "what if?" long into the night. "What if" my camera broke? (I'd use my back-up.) What if the light in the church was horrible and I couldn't use my flash? (I'd make my camera as sensitive to light as I could with a high ISO…and pray.) What if I missed the kiss? (I couldn't even think about it.) What if my grandmother hated the pictures? (Was I crazy? She was my grandmother. She was going to love anything I did).
I don't remember much about the actual wedding, but I'll never forget my grandmother's face when I gave her the proofs. She cried. I cried. She told me I'd made her look beautiful. I told her she was beautiful, no matter what I did. And just like that, I was in love…with wedding photography.
It took quite a while (three years, actually) before I could make the leap to photographing weddings full-time. For the first year, with Frank's help, I worked like a madwoman. We shot 30 weddings our first year in business at ridiculously low prices. If I'd known then what I know now about the amount of time, energy and resources (of both the financial and emotional variety) it would take to shoot and fulfill those 30 weddings, I would have known to triple what I was asking for. I made next to no money that first year. But those 30 weddings reinforced what I suspected was true after shooting my grandmother's wedding: this is a deeply fulfilling job.
And one that is often really, really hard work.
Anyone reading this who thinks it must be fun to be a wedding photographer -- you're right. It is fun. It is also pressure-filled, emotional, stressful, often frustrating and at times, maddening. The actual "fun" part -- the act of photographing someone or something -- is only a small part of what I do each week. The rest is all business: marketing, accounting, record-keeping. Shipping. Answering emails. Over-seeing the production of albums and coffee-table books, prints and canvases. I do more "project management" now than when I was employed by an advertising agency as a Project Manager.
Wedding photography is also an expensive business. While the cost to hang out your shingle as a photographer is fairly low compared to, say, opening a restaurant, the costs to build and maintain a successful business are high. The hours are odd and long. Best time to photograph outdoors? Sunrise and sunset. And honestly, the next person who asks me if it's great to only have to work one day a week is going to get clocked. The cost of heirloom-quality products is high. I believe we've become a society that is satisfied with "good enough." We've become used to stuff wearing out, breaking down, going bad. When that happens, we throw it away and go get another one. I've chosen to be a part of an industry that places a high value on things that last. Things whose value increases with each passing year. Ken Luallen, a photographer I greatly admire, says that what he does is more than taking pretty pictures of a couples' "Big Day." Instead, he creates a tangible reminder of the day two people promised, come hell or high water and damn the divorce rate, that they would stay true to each other. He's giving them something that they can hold in their hands, show their children and say, "See this? This is the day we became a family."
That's an idea that really resonates for me. But. I'd be lying if I wrote that the pressure doesn't weigh me down like an anchor some days. It's my clients who bring me back up. Every little note, every email, every Facebook wall post that tells me I've done a good job is so sweet. Sweet as in precious. Highly desired, greatly appreciated.
Some weddings are easy. Some are not. Some weddings I have all the time I need to create the kind of photographs that have grace and beauty and will be valued, not just today or tomorrow, but in 50 years. Some days I barely have enough time to squeeze off a full-length portrait of the bride and groom before it's time to rush to the reception (guess which days are my favorites?). I feel such deep gratitude to and affection for the couples who grant us the privilege of documenting their weddings. With every anniversary, every new baby, I celebrate with you. It gives me such happiness to be able to look back at each wedding, remember and say, "See that? That's the day they became a family. And I got to photograph it."
