Remember when photo day rolled around? Mom would make sure you were wearing your ugliest, yet fanciest outfit? After winding through a serpentine line in the cafeteria, you finally stepped in front of the draped blue cloth and took a seat on the strange wooden stool. There he was, backlit and poised behind an odd boxy camera: the photographer.
The photographer has come a long way since then. They prefer to be called photojournalists, I think. They don’t take pictures, they document stories. Anyhow, the wedding photographer turns out to be one of the biggest and most expensive line items out there.
After all, they are the ones who freeze time and capture the special moments. Time will march on, the tuxedos will go back to the shop, and fat will begin to accrue in various places. But, the moments (and the soon to be out-dated and ridiculous hair styles) will be captured forever. These images will be precious to future generations, especially future impetuous teenagers who will snicker at their goofy-looking parents.
The photographer will also kindly place these photographs in a fancy art leather album for a fee matching the gross domestic product of several sub-Saharan nations, but that is a tale for another posting.
The point of all this: We have selected our wedding photographer. Amelia Tarbet produces very nice work, and she is a great person to work with. Here’s a link to her website:
Amelia Tarbet Photography
I assure you. That is not how we dance.