Guiding Lights - #2. Sadness and Joy

It's been awhile since I've posted anything and this one won't exactly be a "normal" wedding post. Rambling guaranteed.

All artists have our thing, our lens, our perspective that makes what we do personal to us. The way I create a wedding film will be different - not necessarily better or worse - than one of my peers. I don't even think of the films I make as wedding films. I don't care all that much about the detail shots - I don't care all that much about the crazy portraits. I'm not an extrovert, but I've learned to "turn it on" for wedding days because these things are so fast they really *require* being Type A (ask any wedding planner).

But once I'm back in the edit bay I get to sit with the footage and I begin to puzzle piece things together. And I've come to realize one of the ingredients that is present in all my edits and is part of my own personal lens when creating a film.

Sadness.

Brevity. Impermanence. Struggle. Life is hard - sometimes we win, we'll all lose at some point, and that is part of being human.

If it feels "nostalgic," it's probably because it feels like something beautiful, but we know it won't last. It can't. It's why I don't want to disparage young, crazy lovers for doing "stupid" stuff. You don't get to stay there, so squeeze as much out of it as you can.

It won't be like this forever. And I've realized what excites me about a wedding film isn't the wedding event at all. It's two people who are living one of those moments - one of those real moments - and I get to take those ingredients and make something that feels like a spark, a brilliant flame.

If there's anything "different" in the work that I do, I think it's that. It's bittersweet. It's being lost in wonder at my daughter being 7, knowing she won't be for much longer. It's Daniel Norgren singing:

"Everyone you love, grass will grow above."