Here is a feast of weddings, from the point of view of an enchanted spectator and participant. Here is the tension and the celebration, the romance and the reality, the humor and the toughness of those who participate in life`s most intense and complex ritual. I respect these people. More than that–at every wedding I attend, I am in awe. The human spirit in all its frailty and strength, is here.
I say ”wedding” and a stereotype immediately comes to mind: the country church, the virgin bride, the bride`s doting parents, the smiling tense groom`s parents, the proud best man, the hopeful maid of honor, the silver embossed napkins, ”Harvey and Hannah” on the swizzle sticks–it is printed, public, permanent.
But I go to a wedding and it isn`t a stereotype at all: It is a two-minute ceremony at City Hall or an overnight camping trip in the woods. Two of the bride`s former lovers are there; or I meet the groom`s 6-year-old daughter. A bride`s parents are divorced, and her father isn`t there to ”give her away” because her mother wouldn`t come if he did. Or, a groom`s parents are sour because they don`t approve of a bride who won`t change her name. Or, our modern Harvey and Hannah both have been married before, and we know as they take their vows–”till death do us part”–they believe them, and they also believe that divorce is the better alternative to a bad marriage.
At its most powerful, the wedding radically changes lives. At its least, it marks those changes. From the Duke of Windsor, who gave up his throne for Wallis Warfield Simpson 50 years ago, to Superman becoming a mortal man to marry Lois Lane a few summers ago, the wedding is the watershed, the Great Divide.
Whether brides and grooms are passionately in love, or painfully com-promised, they are truly stars for the day. Children are brushed and scrubbed to look their best–the photographer will make it permanent. The bride`s mother, who herself had an expedient wartime wedding, now finally gets the chance to make a wedding the way she really wanted it. Sensing the truth that equals marry equals, parents see their total life work as parents evaluated.
In the making of this book, my role as a photographer is, at best, peculiar. At hundreds of weddings, I have only twice been the official photographer. I am, instead, part guest, part photographer, part friend, part confidant, part consultant and in large part ignored. I have, on one occasion, been seated at the head table, and on another, been asked not to talk to the guests. And everything in between. Though coming as a journalistic
photographer, I usually bring a small gift. I don`t know why–it just feels like the right thing to do. And it confuses people`s expectations of me. That`s useful.
When photographing, I try to arrive while everyone is busy with the preparations. I am frequently the only one around for the nervous bride or groom to talk to. And perhaps having no continuing relationship with them, I become a safe-deposit place for the stories and feelings that otherwise might never be told.
Some photographers feel the camera separates them from their own feelings about people and events. The camera makes me closer. I could go to any one of these weddings without a camera, and–unless I was a member of the couple`s most intimate circle–I would never notice their reasons for marrying, their expressions of feelings, their intimate stories, their dreams or their schemes. I would chitchat with the other guests, drink champagne, dance, offer my sincere best wishes and best hopes. But with a camera, I notice.
I also photograph weddings because there was something in my own weddings that remained unresolved. Going to other people`s weddings with a camera has put me in touch with my personal drama, too.
