Why I Became A Wedding Photographer

Spoiler: I Was Absolutely Terrified to Photograph a Wedding.

I know. I know.

“I've loved photography since I was a little kid.”

Groundbreaking origin story for a photographer. 😂

But unfortunately, it's true.

One of my grandpa-figures was always the guy with a camera. Wherever we went, his camera went too - and when I was little, he'd bring an extra roll of film specifically for me.

I don't remember having some grand cinematic moment where I decided This is what I want to do with my life.

I just liked taking pictures.

So I kept doing it.

Through middle school. Through high school. A frankly unnecessary number of selfies. Nature. Whatever caught my attention.

Photography was always there.

I just had absolutely no intention of becoming a wedding photographer.

THEN I WENT TO ITALY.

In college, I signed up for a spring break trip to Rome and Florence.

Obviously, this required a camera.

So I bought my first DSLR—a little Nikon D5300—and hauled that thing across the Atlantic with me.

And yes, I photographed Italy.

The architecture. The streets. The art. The scenery. All the shit you're supposed to photograph when someone lets a 20-year-old loose in Rome with a brand-new camera.

But I also kept photographing the people I was there with.

Not just “everybody stand in front of this monument and smile.”

I photographed them experiencing it.

Their reactions. Their conversations. Their excitement. The stupid shit we did. The little moments happening while everybody else was looking at the big thing we'd traveled thousands of miles to see.

When we got home, I uploaded everything and sent a link to the gallery in our group chat.

And the response surprised me.

They weren't just thankful that I had nice pictures of Italy.

They were thankful that somebody had photographed THEM in Italy.

They had photographs of themselves actually experiencing this ridiculous thing we'd just gotten to experience together.

And apparently something clicked in my little 20-year-old brain.

“Holy shit. People will PAY ME to do this.”

Ah, yes.

Quick and easy money.

Photography.

Famously. 😂

SO I STARTED A PHOTOGRAPHY BUSINESS.

And by “photography business,” I mean I started photographing basically anything anybody was willing to pay me to photograph.

Couples.

Families.

Seniors.

Kids.

Events.

Probably somebody's dog.

But absolutely, positively, NOT weddings.

Because weddings scared the absolute shit out of me.

Portrait session goes sideways?

Okay. We can probably try again.

Wedding?

There are no fucking do-overs.

The first kiss happens once. Somebody's dad sees them dressed for their wedding for the first time once. Grandma is there - or she isn't. The ceremony happens whether your camera decides to cooperate or not.

And twenty-year-old Aireal had enough self-awareness to realize that was a shitload of responsibility.

So weddings were my hard boundary.

Until Summer and Luke.

AND THEN TWO PEOPLE WOULDN'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER.

In the fall of 2018, Summer and Luke hired me for their engagement photos.

We had a great time.

They loved their photographs.

They loved working with me.

And then they asked me to photograph their wedding the following summer.

I told them no.

Or, more specifically:

“You understand I've never photographed a wedding before, right?”

They understood.

They did not care.

They wanted me.

And after enough convincing, I finally agreed.

Eight hours.

$1,200.

Twenty-something Aireal was absolutely rolling in it. 😂

So in the summer of 2019, I showed up to photograph my first wedding.

And I fucking loved it.

There are some experiences where you finish them and immediately understand:

Oh. This is my shit.

That wedding was one of them.

I was exhausted.

My brain had been operating at approximately 700 miles per hour all day.

There were people everywhere. Things happening constantly. Moments I had to anticipate before they happened. Problems to solve. Light changing. Timelines moving. People crying. People laughing. Tiny interactions happening behind me while something completely different was happening in front of me.

There was no time to overthink.

I just had to see it and photograph it.

And instead of the responsibility crushing me like I'd been afraid it would?

It was fucking exhilarating.

I remember the feeling during that wedding.

And I remember the feeling afterward.

I wanted to do it again.

So I did.

And again.

And again.

And somehow the thing I'd been most afraid to photograph became the thing I wanted to photograph most.

IT TOOK ME A WHILE TO UNDERSTAND WHY.

Looking backward, though, I think the answer was sitting in those photographs from Italy the whole time.

I like beautiful photographs.

Obviously.

Give me good light, a ridiculous landscape and two people who trust me and I'm going to have a fucking field day.

But that's never really been the part that keeps me here.

It's the people experiencing the thing.

A wedding gives me an entire day of that.

Your mom trying not to cry while you're getting dressed.

Your partner's face when they see you.

Your best friend losing their fucking mind on the dance floor.

The person quietly wiping away tears during your vows.

Your grandparents holding hands during dinner.

The kid under the table.

The drunk groomsman.

The hug you didn't know happened.

The expression on somebody's face while everyone else was looking somewhere else.

The tiny, completely insignificant moment that somehow becomes one of your favorite photographs from the entire day.

That's the shit I love.

AND THAT'S STILL HOW I PHOTOGRAPH WEDDINGS.

A lot has changed since Summer and Luke trusted a terrified baby photographer with their wedding.

I've photographed a hell of a lot more weddings.

I've bought an irresponsible amount of camera equipment.

I've learned how to build timelines, wrangle families, light dark reception halls, anticipate moments, solve weird wedding-day problems, and remain remarkably calm while somebody asks me where the missing boutonnière went as though I have been personally appointed Keeper of the Boutonnières.

But the reason I pick up the camera hasn't actually changed that much.

I'm still documenting people experiencing their lives.

I'm just better at it now.

Your wedding doesn't need to become a photoshoot for me to make incredible photographs of it.

In fact, I'd rather it didn't.

You live the day.

Laugh. Cry. Eat. Dance. Hug your people. Get your dress dirty. Fuck up the timeline. Take ten minutes alone together. Lose your shoes somewhere. Be nervous. Be ridiculous. Be completely overwhelmed by the fact that all these people showed up because they fucking love you.

I'll photograph it.

Because twenty-year-old me accidentally figured something out in Italy that I wouldn't really understand until years later:

The places are beautiful.

But the people experiencing them are the story.