However, on an emotional level, it’s simply a beautiful moment – a moment that is so intimate and ripe with anticipation. It’s the only thing I’ll ever stage besides formals themselves. I feel the anticipation of every reveal I plan. This was by far the most bad ass one and I had to share.

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A few weeks ago I participated in my favorite bridal event; Brides Against Breast Cancer. I don’t generally work bridal expos or shows. It’s not my scene. Most of my wonderful couples comes from word of mouth and by putting my face out there in other, creative ways (Check out some of those beautiful couples here.). However, Brides Against Breast Cancer has a special place in my heart.

I know what you’re thinking, “Is there nothing that is not somehow connected to the breast cancer cause?” and probably, “Sure, but does the cause actually support responsible charities combating breast cancer or is this a vague, ‘Raise awareness about cancer’ sort of thing?”

Brides Against Breast Cancer is a traveling wedding dress boutique experience. Previous brides show up to donate their gowns. They receive a receipt for their tax deductions. The dress is processed and added to the already extensive and gorgeous spectrum of gowns. Brides to be pay $20 to attend a VIP, evening full of munchies and beverages, complete with a DJ, vendors and, of course, first pick of the gowns. Other brides opt for a second day visit to the show for a meager $5, but still have access to all the gowns (that had not found their beautiful bride the previous night).

All of the money goes toward local organizations that directly aid individuals and their families affected by breast cancer. The organizations change from city to city and year to year. Their causes are very worthy. The money from the gown purchases, ticket sales and even vendor participation fee, all go toward the participating charities.

At May’s event I took my camera along so that you can get a feel for the energy and excitement that goes into every event. I chose to shoot abstractly as to prevent the brides from being fully seen in their gowns (unless the brides gave consent to be photographed in her dress).

The charisma is tangible as brides, coupled with the “oohs” and “ahhs” of their friends and family, try on dress after dress. Joy cascades down every seam line and enthusiasm erupts each time a bride arrives at her final selection. It’s an honor to be ushered into the boudoir – into the intimate moment when a bride finds the most important dress she will ever wear and equally so, it is an honor to be a part of such a meaningful event.

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I stared daily and with great reverence at images of their lives before the nursing home. I was enthralled to see wedding photos from a half a century prior – from a completely different world. In their small, two-to-a-room living space they did not display much; an afghan, stuffed animals from grand children, a book or two if they could still read, the Bible (regardless of if they could still read or not) one photo by the bed (usually of a spouse) and often a collage of photos. Seventy-five years or more whittled down to a 16×20 poster board space of memories.

I think about this often when I complete a photo session. These are the images that that they will treasure most. These images they will carry with them and hold on to with all of their might where ever life leads and to its end. These images will help them remember when remembering is an endangered species.

I am so grateful to every person who brings me into their home, their family and into that sacred space in their hearts to capture what is most important to them. I’ve considered this more over the past year, as several of the people who have ushered me into the warm space of “home” have had to say good bye to those that share a place in their souls and therefore a spot in the portraits. Knowing that I was the final person to capture their identity is humbling. It brings me profound joy to offer, not just a photo, but a memory. For that I want to say thank you to all of the people who have welcomed me into their hearts and homes.

I’m often inspired by Mary Oliver, whose words hang like a creed nailed to my heart:

When Death Comes

When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

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