When a wedding start to feel like that word you’ve said too many times

Sometimes wedding photography becomes that strange feeling you get when you repeat a word too many times. You know when you say it again and again, “table, table, table, table, table”, until suddenly it loses its meaning?

The shape of it feels odd in your mouth. The definition slips away.

Weirdly, I get that feeling sometimes with weddings. Perhaps not in the moment, but it comes to me sometimes when just thinking about weddings as a concept. And when I edit a 12h wedding day, and the editing queue seam endless.

If I’m not careful, a wedding risks becoming just another date in the calendar, another ceremony, another bouquet toss. Another click, click, click, click, click, and 500GB later…

That’s part of the reason I ask my couples a bunch of questions beforehand. I need to know what’s important to you. I need to be able to visualize. See it. And feel it. Even before it happens.

And every time I step into someone’s wedding day, I remind myself: this one has never happened before, and it will never happen again.

That thought pulls me back into presence.

And then there’s the photography itself. Sometimes I forget what the actual images are for.

Yes, a handful are for Instagram, the ones that get the immediate love, the double taps, the shares.

But most of them aren’t really for today at all.

Most of them I shoot for the couple in ten years, when life has shifted and they want to remember how it all began.

I shoot for their children, curious to see their parents dancing with reckless joy. I shoot for the relatives who couldn’t be there, who will hold these photos close.

I even shoot for the iPhone albums, for the pictures that will float quietly in the background of someone’s life and pop up one day as a memory notification.

And I shoot for the physical album that gets pulled out every anniversary.

Yes, I even shoot for the planner who poured heart into every detail.

And yes, I even shoot for myself, for the pure creative joy of noticing a flicker of light or a fleeting gesture.

It might sound selfish, but it’s how I stay alive and motivated when I’m on my eighth straight hour of work.

And some photos, I shoot for your friends. They may not all be perfect. But they all mean something to someone, even if that meaning is simply to add to the vibe of a collage you’ll post on your favorite social media app in ten years time.

So when a wedding starts to lose its shape, I return to this: each image has a purpose. Some are for now, some are for later. Some are for everyone, some are just for you.

And that’s what keeps your wedding alive for me.