Amelia Strauss Photography Blog » Amelia Strauss >> Southern California Editorial Photographer / Destination Wedding Photographer

I’m happy and healthy and joyful and adventurous.  I may even write about being 30…tomorrow.  I have some thoughts on all of this for sure.  I certainly am blessed to have made it to this day.

This is me at this moment.  So I love photography and traveling and my family and my husband and my dogs and my friends.  I love where we live.  I love to take random road trips through the middle of nowhere and stop to take polaroid and Holga images - and these are the most recent pictures of me.  So thanks to Graham - this is me hitting 30.

And thank you God for keeping me alive ;)  Thank you most of all for giving me life, life to the fullest.  I praise you, my Creator.

Don’t we look happy?  ;)

UNBELIEVABLE!

On January 30, 2009 I published a list of 101 things I wanted to do in the next 1001 days. The 101 in 1001 list is an interesting collection of goals, as it brings together personal and professional ambitions, as well as seemingly difficult and seemingly simplistic ideals to reach for. Let’s be honest, there is an obvious reason for this - I wanted to be able to actually cross some of these goals off of my list. And for others, I wanted the list to act as a swift kick in the pants to go after my hearts’ desires.

Then there were just a few, that seemed somewhat out of place…yet, I added them to the list anyway. Why? I’m not really sure. But maybe, perhaps, it was just because these were DREAMS more than GOALS - ludicrous ideas that would be fantastic if they somehow came to pass. And it was bold and fun to add them to my list.  Case in point - Meet Bill Simmons. I have no idea how to make this happen, save some twitter stalking (which is obviously unacceptable). It is an unattainable and insane “goal” - it is out of my control. Another item on my three year agenda was SO unattainable that I forgot I had even put it on the list. But, lo and behold, it happened! So, here I am, three months later, checking it off…

Watch the Alabama Crimson Tide win the National Championship - DONE!

Remember the Rose Bowl? We’ll win then.

So, on January 1, 2010 around 5am, my husband and I walk out of our house for the last time, carrying our two dogs, and pack into our SUV with a U-Haul attached. We drive half a mile to pick up John and Heidi Steakley, who are making the trip out with us to Los Angeles. This is our “official” move date. We drive for 35 hours straight. No stopping. Bathroom breaks alone. It quickly becomes a cherished nightmare of an adventure. Fueled by insane amounts of caffeine, we finally all break down and take a 30 minute nap somewhere on the Mexico border in easily the sketchiest parking lot I’ve ever seen, (which is saying a lot mind you). Heidi and I buy toothbrushes at a gas station that could best be described as “straight out of a horror film”. We brush our teeth in industrial sinks.  Our teeth bleed. We head back out on the road.  We roll into Southern California on a beautiful day, January 2, 2010, completely exhausted, with Lady Gaga welcoming us to town. When we arrive at the house in Manhattan Beach, the real work begins…immediately.

The very next day - the first sunrise from the porch on the roof of our house!

Furniture is delivered. We unpack and clean in a whirlwind of madness. We have exactly three days to get this house together - because ALL of our family is flying into town.  Not to mention countless friends.  And for some reason that I still can’t put my finger on, I thought it was a fabulous idea to have a house party the night before the big game at our place on the beach.  What the what?  It was chaos.

Everyone begins to arrive on January 5, 2010.  There is this incredible excitement in the air - it doesn’t seem real.  I feel as though all the people I love the most have made this trip for me.  They didn’t.  It was for the Tide.

I really didn’t put much hope or thought into the National Championship.  It was so surreal that we were even playing.  Surely we would lose at some point in the season.  Someone would get hurt.  Someone would do something stupid.  Tim Tebow would crush us in Atlanta.  Right?  But somehow, we made it all the way to The Rose Bowl.  I couldn’t get my hopes up for #13 - I wouldn’t be able to deal with my husband’s disappointment…

We have our house party and it is an absolute blast!  We go out afterward to South in Santa Monica.  It seems as though the entire State is here.  The experience starts to sink in…just a little.

Me and Heidi that night:

The next day, we are Pasadena bound.  I’m dressed in the exact same outfit I wore to the very first game of the year against Virginia Tech at the Georgia Dome.  Alabama won that game - and my husband made me wear something from that original outfit EVERY SINGLE SATURDAY for the rest of the season.  Even though I didn’t make it to another game.  Even though I was shooting every Saturday.  I had that stupid cami on under every outfit.  So, naturally, the Rose Bowl called for the outfit I wore to the Georgia Dome…in entirety.  I look like a tool.  Unstylish and absurd.  Whatever.

And then, before I know it, we’re there.  This is actually happening.

(Thanks to my Dad for the rest of the images in this post!)

Me and Haley before the game:

My Dad, Margo (my Sister-In-Law), me, and Lucy!

The Million Dollar Marching Band - I love the energy and the light of The Rose Bowl at this point!

Okay, we are playing Texas in the National Championship.  I’m so nervous I can hardly stand it.

Dad and Margo meet the most enthusiastic Texas fan since Matthew McConaughey…

Dad makes a bet with him…he seems pretty happy about it…

The 4th quarter creeps down.  This game is getting pretty dang serious…I am in total shock.

AND WE WIN!  WE FREAKING WIN!

Number 13.

Unreal.

Dad trying to collect on the bet…the Texas fan is no longer happy.  He refuses to turn around for this final picture…

After the game I lose my group for a while.  I end up stuck on the opposite side of the tunnel the players…excuse me, National Champions…are walking out of to head to their buses.  AND, I see Rolando McClain.  And I attack him.  I don’t know what happened, it was so fast.  I dart out like a blur and bear-hug him with all my might.  He laughs…

BEST. DAY. EVER.

In the event that Lent is unfamiliar, please indulge me while I explain a little of what it’s all about. Lent is a period in the liturgical year of the church that begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Holy Saturday, the day before Easter Sunday.  In Catholicism, Lent is a time of preparation for the believer, and includes fasting, prayer, and penitence leading up to Easter, the traditional day commemorating the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Now, let me back up a bit.  I didn’t grow up in Catholicism.  Nor am I a member of the Catholic faith.  However, I am a person OF faith, and I’ve been on a bit of a journey this year…

When I begin preparing to move to Los Angeles in late fall in 2009, you could say I amp up my quiet times a tad.  More than anything else that was going on, I knew I had to be spiritually grounded as I entered into this new season of life.  In November I was packing up our library, and came across a book that was given to me by a good friend, Purnell, a couple of years before when I was very ill.  She had inscribed the following in the front cover:

“Amelia, This is hands down one of my favorite books.  You’ll want to be her best friend - kind of like me.  Plus, it will give you something to do.  Enjoy!  Purnell”

The book was Girl Meets GOD: A Memoir.  Apparently, I wasn’t in the place to read about this girl meeting God at the time Purnell gave me this book, but when I found it a couple of years later, I was curious, and ready to actually delve into the meat of it.  I was in a new season, and felt I was meeting God again, or differently, during a transitional time.  So, I start reading.  Enter my obsession with Lauren Winner.

An endearing and transparent author, Lauren is simply a fascinating girl.  Purnell was right, I did want to be her best friend.  Her journey towards and through a relationship with God was now something I related to, and was eager to watch unfold.  The memoir’s style, free and light and honest, is deceiving - this book deals with some major questions and issues in a journey of faith.  It’s much more intellectual than expected.  Then again, Lauren holds a doctorate in the history of American religion…so maybe I should have expected that her writing would be exceptionally researched and pieced together.

There is an entire section on Lent in Girl Meets God; six chapters walking through the Lent season.

I end up reading this book twice in December and January, and then I start reading MudHouse Sabbath, a spiritual guide of sorts by Winner.  My interest in Lauren’s take on her religion is peeked…and Lent is right around the corner.

As Lent begins in Girl Meets God, a priest asks, “So Lauren, what discipline have you adopted for Lent?”  She is challenged with something radical (for her), and struggles through the weeks that she has given up that cherished indulgence.  But I found myself drawn to these specific phrases she uses to describe the experience: “It left me starkly alone with my life.  I also find myself praying more because I don’t have my usual distractions…it just might move me closer to Jesus.  It might move me to my knees.”  This resonates with me.  I want that experience.

So, what discipline would I adopt?  Well, as ridiculous as it may sound, social media is a major part of my life.  Twitter is my coffee break from work, a treasured connection with friends; blogging is my voice in my business and personal life; my website serves as our business storefront; and Facebook, well, it’s a black hole.  I came late to all of these outlets mind you, but as soon as I did, they took on a life of their own.  Because Facebook is both a personal and professional platform, and serves a dual-purpose for me; I end up sucked in for hours on end.  And granted, I book jobs off of Facebook - it could be insane to give this up!  Nonetheless, this is what I feel called to do.  Facebook will be the hardest thing for me.  So, I set about ridding myself of this medium.  I take the bookmark off of all my computers.  I delete the App from my iPhone.  I enter into Lent free of Facebook.  And I was wholly unprepared for how starkly alone I would be…

The things that happened while giving up Facebook for Lent:

• I have more time to pray…a lot more time.
• There is a realization of how heavily I am connected to people through social mediums.
• I quickly realize I am starving for truer connections and real relationships in this new season of my life.
• Unfortunately, but somewhat expectedly, I become much more dependent on Twitter.
• I feel free.
• I feel lonely.
• There are days I struggle so much in my loneliness, I find myself angry and resentful at my friends, like it was their fault I’m disconnected.  Why aren’t they calling me?  Why isn’t anyone answering the phone?  Did anyone still care about me at all?
• I feel silly and bible-beater-ish explaining to people what I have chosen to do for Lent…almost embarrassed.
• I’m uncomfortable.
• I miss out on a lot of things.
• I cheat once, and look over my husband’s shoulder to see my page.
• Disconnected from my clients, I feel uneasy.
• I end up talking to current clients on the phone more.
• I start to embrace being starkly alone.
• I begin to dread the end of Lent.
• In the end, I had found my way back to my knees…

Then, suddenly, after all of this preparation, Easter is upon us.  We go to morning service at our church, Pacific Crossroads, followed up by a gospel brunch with good friends at the House of Blues.  We start driving back to Manhattan Beach.  And out of nowhere, I am jonesing for Facebook.  What in the world?!  I had gotten used to life without it, and now I’m itching to go sign on.

And this is what I find:

And apparently, those are notifications, requests, and messages just since March 28th?!  For some reason, Facebook only kept my “updates” current for a week at a time.  I guess when you are active on Facebook, you don’t realize the scope of how large it is becoming.  As an aside, if you were one of the 115 people who invited me to help you out with your farm, I’m sorry, but that is just never going to happen…

I feel that after walking through Lent this year, Facebook will be different for me.  I seem to have a better outlook, a better balance.  If you want to connect with me there, you can be my friend here.

So, maybe I’m drowning in messages for a few days, but this experience was completely worth it.  I think truly disconnecting with parts of my world allowed me to truly reconnect with what my world is all about.  And as Lauren proclaimed, I did move just a little closer to Jesus…and fell just a little more often to my knees.

What a fun way to end a busy week! After heading up to Mammoth Mountain with my friend Heather Kincaid to shoot a wedding in a blizzard on April Fool’s Day, we got up bright and early the next morning to take portraits of each other in the snow.  I was SO happy and SO cold.  Other than some snow here and there around the South, I haven’t really had an experience with this magnitude of precipitation, minus a ski trip when I was five, and the “infamous” blizzard of 1993…

I basically walked around saying “Oh my gosh” in astonishment for two and a half days.

I really couldn’t feel my fingers or toes anymore at the point that we took these portraits, but I had such a great time.  And now as I look at these images, I’m happily back on the beach!  I’m thinking I’ll post on the whole snow adventure at some point, but I couldn’t wait to share this image of Heather.  I just adore this image of her, so radiant and serene…

Happy Easter everyone!

Originally, I planned to publish this post on April 1st, but then realized that it could potentially come off as a prank. In order to set the record straight and keep all of this on the up-and-up, I decided to write this post just prior to April 1st instead.  Now that we have that disclaimer out of the way, here goes…

Groggy and still dreaming, I feel my Mother shaking my shoulder, urgently awakening me from a deep sleep.  She’s whispering in my ear.  Underneath the calm authority of her demeanor, I hear a panic in her voice.  My eyes flutter open and I see that dawn is just breaking.  A faint light is filtering into my room.  It is completely silent.

Although, the silence is not unexpected.  We are on a practically deserted island in the Caribbean, south of Cuba.  There is no harbor here; only a small landing strip for private planes, a resort consisting of twelve rooms, four houses, and a tiny native village on the other side of the island.  This is the vacation spot of my childhood.  I know this island better than I know myself.  I am eight years old, and we are here for spring break, just as every other year.  Time here is one of our most consistent and treasured family traditions.  Christmas, summers, school breaks; they are all spent here.  Lazy days are plenty…I’ve never woken up before breakfast is already over.  What is going on?  I spring out of bed, aware that something is very very wrong.

And then the words register, “A tidal wave is coming.”

She informs me that my Father is getting my little brother, Rob, and meeting us a few hundred yards away to take cover.  “We must be very quick.”  I hurry to find my shoes and we set out to the designated safe place, where we are meeting Daddy and Rob and the McGiffins - our dear family friends with two children our age, Ben and Pete.

I see my Daddy and just the sight of him soothes my anxiety.  He is firm and determined.  I sense the crisis management hero in him coming to the forefront.  I hug him tightly and fearfully ask him what is happening.  He pulls all the children around him, and in a firm and kind voice he explains that a tidal wave is coming towards the island and they would do everything they could to get us all through this.  Then he gently responds “And, well, we might all die”.  And there it is - my eight years are flashing before me.  So young to be contemplating this tragic demise.  Rob was just four.  Pete and Ben are lost in thoughts of danger and mortality as well.  I worry and fear for my parents.

The adults have found a place for us to brace against the coming wave of devastation.  They tell us it is the safest place on the island.  It is a four foot stone wall…probably built sometime in the 19th century.  I could kick it down myself.  Regardless, we huddle behind this wall, hugging and waiting…and waiting…and waiting.  We peek over when we find the courage.  Ben finally yells out, ” I SEE IT!  THE WAVE IS COMING!” and we hunker back down behind our wall.  It is light now.  I am going to die on a beautiful spring day.  But nothing happens.  As we look to our parents, smiles begin to creep out.  And then, laughter erupts.  Laughter that lasts TO THIS DAY.

“April Fool’s!” they scream.  We didn’t die…we were safe.  For a year at least.

So, here is the beauty of the First of April in my family.  Pranks are on a level unfathomable to most civilized people.  They increase in planning and dramatic twists with each year.  To my parents and their close family friends, April Fool’s seems to work like this: Something unimaginably awful is happening! Just kidding, that wasn’t really true! You’re fine and should therefore delight that the horrific ordeal wasn’t real! YEA for April Fool’s Day!

And so it went.  Yes, in fact, there WAS a great feeling of relief after the “joke” was over.  Which served to reinforce the idea that this was a great way to celebrate April Fool’s.  And of course, it was all I knew.

Over the next twelve years or so, the pranks grew exponentially until they reached epic proportions.  We were arrested, cuffed and all, put in holding cells and questioned by Customs agents at the age of 10 and 14.  We experienced a crash landing on a grass strip where we were told the plane was about to explode and we had to run for our lives.  Eventually I grew wiser than the most over-the-top pranks, and nothing could rattle me anymore.  That’s when our college friends became the new victims.

Like I said, this was what I knew April First to be.  SO, when I got married I did the obvious and began scheming well in advance.  Turns out, the relief my husband was supposed to feel from NOT being $130,000 in debt never really kicked in.  I think he actually stopped breathing for a while.  For a few days he didn’t even look at me.  He still doesn’t think it’s funny.  (I do).  After two years of complete and utter failure applying my parents’ technique, I have officially sworn off April Fool’s Day in my marriage.

If you ask my parents about that tidal wave TODAY…they’ll start laughing.

So, Bob and Jo, I tip my hat to you.  Thank you for the insanely crazy experiences of my childhood, and the unforgettable memories that resulted.  Your vigor for life and fun, and your endless creativity never ceases to amaze me.  I feel blessed to have been tortured by you both…

To the readers of this post, I hope one day this bizarre holiday (or any other random one) can be even half as meaningful to you as it has been to me.

Here’s to April Fool’s Day!  And watch out for those sharks in the pool.  In the words of Kerie Cleveland, “Check the corners!”

Yep - that’s right. 10 solid days on the Vegas Strip.  Where to begin with the madness?

In MY mind, March Madness no longer refers to the NCAA basketball tournament, but to a little convention called WPPI.  And what SEEMED like a great idea a few months ago - following up the biggest convention I go to all year with a trip for my husband’s 30th birthday - maybe wasn’t the best plan.  On top of all that, I added a couple days on the front-end to check off a major 101 in 1001 item…

Seriously?!  What was I thinking?  *Sigh*

I’m seeing glitter and hearing slot machines in my sleep…hoping I won’t roll sevens in my dreams…

Regardless, I am very, very glad to be back in Los Angeles.  In true SoCal fashion I trekked out across the desert to Vegas on a road-trip (and only almost died about 6-7 times).  Thankfully, my husband drove my car back, and rolling into L.A. was the best relief I’ve had in a really long time.  All the transitional hardship apparently needed, was an extended stay in a city with no differentiation between day or night, to put it in it’s place!

I’m completely exhausted - and ready for real life again!  On a side note about real life, I lived through my first earthquake early this morning…

And, for all my friends and colleagues who experienced that insane weather last week; the wind and rain and cold.  This is what happened the day y’all LEFT Vegas:

So here I am living the good life in Los Angeles. We have this wonderful place right on the beach in a fantastic community. The weather is incredible. (As I write this, it is currently 68 degrees and rising, while SNOWING and slushy in my hometown)! I am finally living on the same side of the country as my husband again. This city is a photographer’s dream come true. And yet, I find myself racked with homesickness.

For every beautiful moment here, I keep missing something I love back home. How do I start embracing this new life? I tried to just throw myself into everything I could find immediately, but being busy isn’t really the same as quality time is it? No matter how that time is spent.

I was very fortunate to quickly find a church I love, and join a small group. Through a crazy small world circumstance, I made a friend in my community who is one of my client’s best friends from college. I also had a couple of good solid friendships I knew I wanted to really invest in before I ever even got here permanently, so I definitely have that to be grateful for.

But how to meet people? This was my biggest hurdle. Last week, I found I was almost drowning in this feeling of loneliness - I just felt so adrift and without direction. Okay, maybe I’m still struggling with that…but the point is that last week, this became a catalyst for me to go out and do something about it! I needed to get out of my edit-and-album-design-at-home-alone mode, and go have some fun! Make some friends in my industry! (This being another thing I really miss about Birmingham). I was invited to a lunch with Heather, Regis, Victor and others - which was super fun - but I definitely felt like I was the girl going “let’s hang out just a LITTLE bit longer..”.  I’m already bribing them to hang out with me again!

So, also last week, I saw a link on twitter to a photography shootout.  Having no clue what this was, clearly my next thought was, “I should totally sign up!”…because that’s completely logical I’m sure.  I think I just wanted to do anything and everything to meet new people!  So, I sign up for this seemingly random event, and yesterday I headed up to Pasadena for the entire day.  And it was awesome!

I can’t believe all the time and effort that went into making the day possible.  Basically, I was put in a group with about 10 other photographers, and we just shot all day.  But it was so much more than that to me.  I met people.  I made friends.  I enjoyed myself.  I got to play and have a good time, and for just a little while, I wasn’t homesick…

A huge thank you to Hanssie and Matt for putting the day together, and to the amazing Mary Lallande and Amanda Auer for really making it what it was!

I’ll definitely be posting about the day, my new friends, and some cool behind the scenes images of what exactly a shootout is!  If you have a chance to go to one, you should.  I’m so thankful I got to have a fun and new experience with such great people.  My group rocked by the way - the best…without a doubt.  I’ll also post some images from the day…very different than anything I’m used to.  It was great to shoot with other photographers and be challenged.  I can’t wait to get my film back and share some of the images!  For now, I’m just posting a couple digital scenes I grabbed along the way.

Here’s to a great weekend!  Hoping I can live in the moment and to the fullest - no matter where I am..

I was a blessed child. I grew up in a loving home, in a beautiful neighborhood, with a close-knit family. Southern roots ran deep.

I had the great privilege to grow up with three of my grandparents living. I never really understood how precious this was until I lost my Grandfather when I was 20 years old. January 19th of that year kicked off one of the hardest years of my life. He was the first person I was very close to that passed away. Unfortunately, the year brought tragedy after tragedy, and I came to know death well.

I was left with two incredible grandmothers. Strong southern women who were as different as they come but inspirational beyond imagination. During my engagement to my husband, I again realized the blessing of generational relationships - he had lost ALL of his grandparents before he was ever born. Also, during our engagement, my Paternal Grandmother passed away. The circle of life was all around me, and I marveled at my Lord’s sovereignty. My Maternal Grandmother made the trek over from Charleston, South Carolina to Birmingham, Alabama to be at my wedding. She was 92 years old and frail, and she loved us, and I was honored that she came, and it was one of the highlights of my wedding day. She was there for the ceremony alone. Our only grandparent. It meant the world to me.

Fast forward a few years. My Grandma Josie was now the only surviving member of a generation I revered and loved with all my heart. I started asking more and more questions; I wanted to hear all of her stories. I wanted her memories to live on with me. I wanted her to live on in me. I spent more and more time in Charleston with my Mother. Eventually, Grandma Josie moved out of her house. Things were changing and it was heartbreaking. I didn’t have the fortune of growing up in the same city she lived in - this was the city of my Mother’s childhood, not mine. But it was a city that held my heart, and the magic was diminishing. It seemed cloudier, darker, and started to become a glimmer of what it once was to me.

December 5, 2009 - I move to Los Angeles. December 10, 2009 - I take a red-eye flight to Charleston. I helplessly watch a woman I love start to wither away. I watch a woman by her side walk through utter despair as she sits beside her Mother and prays with her. I cry. Here before me are two women who I long to be like, yearn to support and care for and comfort, want to make proud - and I can do nothing. I spend time with my cousins. I look to my Aunt and Uncle for the ways to love my family as we walk through this together. I’m devastated. Life was rapidly marching forth, and I felt alone and adrift and angry.

December 24, 2009. Christmas Eve. My Grandma Josie passes away. It wasn’t a peaceful death. My heart breaks. For me, for my Mother, for my family.

Her funeral was on December 27th. I drove back out to California on January 1, 2010. The state comes with me - our team is headed to the National Championship in Pasadena. We move into a new place on the beach. I don’t have time to think. Everyone goes home. I work hard, learn to live with my husband again, and start to reach out to my new community. I fly back East for four jobs, come back to California again. Start going to a church. Join a small group. Pray for friends. Start focusing on where my business is headed. I avoid the emotional tides under the surface.

My talks with my Mother are to check in, let her know I love her and am praying for her, let her know I haven’t forgotten what she’s going through. I finally start acknowledging what I’m going through. Last week, I realize there is a specific phrase resonating with me, and I’m repeating it in my mind. Something my Uncle Charles said at her funeral - “the quiet strength of a Melanie”…

To paraphrase, as he talked about my Grandmother’s life, he mentioned Gone With The Wind; “Why is it such a masterpiece? Why do we watch this movie countless times? What draws people in to the story? It isn’t the antics of Scarlett…it is the quiet strength of Melanie. I submit to you that this woman was a Melanie. A dignified woman with strength and grace and peace…”

There are so many things I want to share about my Grandmother, but I don’t know how yet. Every time I write on this blog, I feel like a liar denying the things that are going on behind the scenes. So I may as well start with the basics of my heart…

My Grandma Josie passed away on Christmas Eve, her wedding anniversary. She and my Grandfather were married for 69 years at the time of his death. They were the greatest love story I’ve ever heard. I intend to share their story someday when I’m emotionally ready to do so. They were the epitome of what a marriage could be, and my Grandmother is the greatest inspiration I’ve known. She is the woman I want to be.

I often find myself wrapped up in the daily antics of a Scarlett. I live in a world of ambition, selfishness, self-centeredness, and social over-stimulation. I can be silly, loud, and quick to speak. And although there are aspects of my personality that definitely make me who I am - there are others that I find myself convicted of. Are my antics biblical? Not in the least. Is this who I was made to be? I know that it is not. I was made to be less like Scarlett, and more like Melanie. And that is my prayer, that I too would have the quiet strength of a Melanie…

Well, the holidays have come and gone…family members have passed on…we’ve conquered a cross-country road trip…officially moved to Los Angeles…friends and family came to stay…the Crimson Tide won the National Championship…I dominated the 405…my studio has been unpacked…a new life begun…all in the last two weeks.

Needless to say, there’s plenty to blog about.

Let’s just kick things off with this - I’m beyond happy to be getting back to some sort of routine. I can’t wait to really dive into 2010! So many things to share…

And because blog posts always need to be accompanied by an image - here is one that makes me smile. I love this shot of Emily and Matt at their wedding reception - the film grain came out so beautifully, and the emotion is just really raw…love it.

Random post, I know. It’s good to be back.