There was a time when I walked into a wedding with a much stronger idea of what I wanted to film.
I was thinking about the venue, the flowers, the table settings and the details somebody had spent months choosing.
All of those things matter, and I still photograph and film them.
But over time I realized I could become so focused on what I thought I was supposed to capture that I wasn't always paying enough attention to what was actually happening around me.
That was an important lesson.
Because the things I remember most from weddings usually aren't the things I could have planned for.
A father standing quietly off to the side. Somebody making the bride laugh while she is getting ready. A nervous groom suddenly relaxing when one of his friends walks into the room. A look between two people that lasts maybe a second.
None of that appears on a shot list.
You have to be there for it.
And more importantly, you have to be paying attention.
I used to think more about what I wanted to capture. Now I try to see what is there to capture.
That sounds like a small difference.
For me, it changed a lot.
I Still Arrive With a Plan
I don't walk into a wedding and just hope something interesting happens.
There are things I know I need. I know where I need cameras during a ceremony. I know what I need from the preparation part of the day. I know the pieces that help me build a film later.
Experience gives me a structure.
But I don't want that structure to become blinders.
When I first walk into a room, I am trying to understand it before I start changing it.
Are people talking? Are they laughing? Is everybody nervous? Is the room quiet? Is somebody sitting by themselves? Is there a lot happening at once, or does everybody seem to be waiting for something?
I'm not deciding whether any of that is good or bad.
I'm just trying to understand what kind of room I walked into.
That tells me a lot about how I should work.
Sometimes I can come in talking and joking immediately. Sometimes the better choice is to be quiet for a while. Sometimes people need a little direction. Sometimes they need me to disappear.
The same approach doesn't work every time because the people aren't the same every time.
The Day Has to Be Allowed to Be Itself
I think that is where a lot of my filmmaking philosophy begins.
I don't want to arrive with such a strong idea of what a wedding film should look like that I stop seeing the wedding that is actually in front of me.
There are beautiful things worth filming. There are carefully planned details that deserve attention. There are shots I know will help me later.
But none of those things should keep me from noticing the people.
Because ultimately, that is what will make the film different from every other wedding I have made.
Not the dress. Not the venue. Not the flowers.
The people.
Their personalities. Their relationships. The way they talk to each other. The way they handle nerves. The things that make them laugh. The things they don't even realize I noticed.
Those are usually the pieces that become more important to me once I start editing.
Experience Changed What I Look For
One of the benefits of doing this for a long time is that I don't feel the same need to control everything that I once did.
I know what I need technically.
That frees me up to look beyond it.
I can pay attention to the edges of the room. I can notice when something starts happening that wasn't supposed to happen. I can change direction.
And sometimes I can let go of the thing I thought I needed because something better is happening right in front of me.
That doesn't mean every unexpected moment becomes important.
Most don't.
But I would rather be available for those moments than be so busy completing my own plan that I never notice them.
That is probably one of the biggest changes in the way I film weddings.
I still prepare. I still have a plan. I still care about making beautiful images.
But I try not to let any of those things decide what the story is before the day has even happened.
The people get to do that.
Pay Attention First
I think that is really the beginning of everything else I do.
Before I direct, I pay attention.
Before I decide what matters, I listen.
Before I decide what kind of film I am making, I let the day show me what is there.
Sometimes the story I eventually find is exactly what I expected.
Sometimes it isn't even close.
I like that.
Because if I already knew what every wedding film was supposed to be before I arrived, I think I would have stopped being interested in making them a long time ago.
The plan matters. The experience matters. The filmmaking matters.
But first, I have to notice what is actually happening.
The film should come from the day, not the other way around.
