I never thought much of wedding photographers.
As a photojournalist working for newspapers, I had opportunities to shoot “big” events and “big” people from courtside at NBA games and backstage at arena rock concerts. Not to mention the podium of the vice president. I was where it happened.
I considered wedding photographers to be something like a minor league — the kind of players who didn’t play hard enough and left the field without getting their uniforms dirty.
But when I was asked to shoot a friend of a friend’s wedding, my opinion changed.
As I found myself standing amid smiling bridesmaids whose only focus was their friend in the long white dress, I realized I was backstage to something much bigger than anything I had shot before.
I was photographing one of the most important days of someone’s entire life.
I’ve since photographed many other weddings. In some ways they all play out the same way: The stage is set and the characters are all ready for their cue.
But at the same time, each wedding is remarkably different.
One of my wedding couples had not spoken to each other for three weeks preceding the event. Before the ceremony, when they met to sign the ketubah among a small group of people, they held each other tight and wept with joy. The rabbi cried, their friends cried and I, too, could not help but cry — which made looking through my viewfinder somewhat difficult.
But I was where it happened. And I was part of it.
As a wedding photographer, I help to create the wedding album. I help to create a milestone in someone’s life. And in a singular way, I am richly rewarded. A wedding album is a keepsake, which is very different from yesterday’s news.