This, too, shall pass.

We are taught that to be accepted in this world, we must be perfect. Complete. Put together. We are told that our wholeness is what makes us intrinsically good. To be anything else is to be cast aside like a flower that's finished blooming. There is no room in our technicolored dreamworld for imperfections.

We aren't always taught to pause and appreciate the beauty in the falling apart. There are no books written on existing inside that space. You get no medal for getting out of bed or putting on pants. We are taught to run from brokenness. Fear it. Get as far away from it as you humanly and possibly can because it's painful, hard and terrifying. We aren't shown that despite our fragility during this time, being broken is truly a privilege. And we aren't shown that sometimes, being in that space is hard to get out of. Buck up. Chin up. Onward and upward. It's like the world doesn't want being broken to exist.

My words to you are this: If you are in the broken place, take your time. Feel around a little. Hold the space. Look for the beauty within it (For example - I know if the lights are off, I look much better in the mirror). Surround yourself with people who can do the same thing. It takes patience, courage, love and - above all else - empathy. Sit. Be still. And love yourself. 

Because this, too, shall pass.

It's in the details.

If you ask me, I think it's the details that make any photoshoot where I am telling a story complete. But this is particularly true at a wedding. Those small shots. The close ups. The tiny sidebars that tell fill in the details on the bigger picture. I always felt like they were the most interesting part. They are adjectives in the stories and the subtle punctuation at the end of each sentence you tell as you recount the day.

Other parts come into play as well...candid shots and final edits really make it complete and set a tone. But those details make you remember what the day felt like, and most importantly - how you felt in it.

I approach much of my photography like this: How will I tell this story in a photograph? Often, the job is to capture the story in one shot, one portrait. So then, a detail shot just isn't the thing. But I still try to make sure - no matter what to story I am telling - that you come away with a feeling.

Maybe then, the details are in the feeling you get from a photograph. The feeling is the theme, the adjectives and the punctuation. The feelings are hidden in the cake toppers and the colors, the little hands holding the rings and the crazy groomsmen busting a move on the dance floor. The details are hidden in the smiles and the eyes of everyone I photograph...just waiting to tell their own story.