A part of me has always been a storyteller. There was never a time in my life that I wasn’t writing in journals, taking pictures, recording my days, or just truly being attuned to everything going on around me. It’s easy to document something with words, but with images … it’s a totallyyy different ball game (and to say I became absolutely obsessed with it is the understatement of the century).
Photography is a balance of being deeply present, while also having a connection to what may come next. Knowing which brief moments are real and worth holding onto. The ones entrenched in pure freakin’ joy, love, and light.
It wasn’t until many, manyyy moons later that photography brought me back to the love stories my younger self adored. And as it turns out, being that fly on the wall was everything I could’ve dreamed of and more.
There’s nothing quite like being able to capture a glimpse of your soul, your love story as it’s being told. It’s my favorite thing in the world.
When I was younger I would spend HOURS scrolling through wedding blogs, reading love stories, and looking at photos. To document someone’s day and be a fly on the wall during someone’s wedding seemed like such a cool job.
My cats oversee the editing process, I can indulge in a nap whenever, the guy that works at my office is cute af (he’s my husband so no need to alert HR), meetings take place at local breweries, I get to eat cake on a regular basis, and my clients are the bomb.com.
What more could a girl ask for, really?
In the wise words of Loreli Gilmore, “If eating cake is wrong, I don’t want to be right.”