First, it’s important that I publicly apologize to my wife, my girls, Steph, my Mom and Jean + Freeman for what can only be described as a month long, artistic hissy fit. I’ve been such a little bitch.
It happens every year. Like a dirty little crack addiction, we ride the wedding high from June to October. Then things start to slow down a bit but the addiction continues. Inquiries come but nobody replies. Bookings slow down and its a sinking ship in icy cold waters. Suddenly time turns from foe to friend and side projects become plausible possibilities. The switch flips and I think I’m Matt fucking Barnes. It’s a whole new drug and a whole new buzz but its in short supply and has vicious side effects (delusions of grandeur + confusion). I just spent the last few weeks looking at warehouse space and potential new locations for the studio. I had myself convinced we needed 18′ ceilings and $25 000 mezzanine. I was sure we’d be shooting Pearl Jam and porn stars in mere weeks. What we could not shoot we would create in Photoshop. Imagination was our only limit. I could get used to these portrait pills. I was the king of the world.
And then the Tambourine Man showed up with a huge bag of wedding crack. This was the rush I was missing. Sheets of empty canvas.
We’ve painted the first kiss a million times and each time we try and get something different. The Drive By has become one of my favourites. You need to get where you should not be all the while being as respectful of the tradition and ceremony as you can, yet still pushing the envelope. When I think about a wedding rush, this is it. The Applehead ceremony rules are pretty simple: be ghost-like and do not fuck up. I remember it like it was a minute ago, chuckling my ass off as I see Steph swoop in from nowhere, buzz passed the couple and be out of my frame in split seconds. The first kiss can last anywhere from a split to several seconds and as soon as it starts I’m pounding on my focus button like its a plunger on a crack needle (note: I know you don’t really shoot crack but I’ve gotten this far with the crack analogy that I can’t just switch to heroine now). Flat light. Can’t focus. I just need to get the ‘safe’ shot but everything is blurry. They’re kissing and I’m missing. I need to find a vein and I need to find it fast. The kiss stops, blood flows and we wait to see if this is going to be a good trip or a bad one. I check mine, Steph checks hers and we’re exchanging simultaneous ‘fuck’d if I know’ glances. It doesn’t get better than this.
So the hissy fits are done. The fear and self loathing is over and I’ve got an abundance of buzz that would rival a Lance and Vincent Vega meeting and I can’t wait to share it with you. We’re wedding photography addicts with a dirty little commercial inspired portrait pill habit. We’re photographers for people who really care about photography.