We went to the most beautiful wedding this weekend at Campovida in Hopland, Ca. I was excited to shoot lots of special photographs at the wedding as part of the gift I was planning to give the bride and groom. After several hours of driving I realized that my fully charged camera and gear was still on my dining table at home. It took me a good hour or two to let go of this (ask Matt). It was a particular kind of torture to see photo after photo I would have taken, and then with a sigh pull out my point and shoot and hope for the best.
There was a gift of course in setting down my role of photographer– a different kind of presence. I could hold the jam jar of fresh lemonade during the ceremony, I could cry without looking through a viewfinder, I could have a glass of wine without wondering if we were losing the light.
I had to consider what I was really attached to. The gift I wanted to give them? My compulsion to capture beauty? My desire to be useful? Something to do with my hands if I didn’t feel like small talk? Maybe it was all of that. But I do wonder sometimes what I am missing when I have my camera. It is a balance I am very curious about and try to stay conscious of– how much (and when) does my camera bring me deeper into the moment and when does it pull me farther away? I’d love to hear your thoughts on this wise readers.
I think my favorite moment of the entire night though was when the DJ played Don’t Stop Believing. I think at least 30 of us rose up and gathered in a circle with our fists in the air, singing along at the top of our lungs. Oh, if I had only had my camera, any camera, for that one. 😉