Niki and Ben had the best Indian-Japanese-Jewish wedding ever! I liked Niki and Ben the minute I met them. Their wedding reflected who they are: beautiful, playful, and romantic. It was at the classy Flood Mansion with flowers by the genius Torryne at Birch and flawless event planning by Katherine Kalabokes.
The photos at the bottom (starting with the red truck) were taken the day after. That was a fun way to get photos all around SF, when we didn't have a schedule to worry about.
Secondly, PQ Blackwell is publishing a book this year called Fresh Milk: Friendship, Family, Love, and Laughter. They did a call for entries and one of my photos from the south side of St. Louis was chosen. This is also a big honor because the judge was my hero, Magnum photographer Elliott Erwitt. You can see all the winning photos here.
This is my photo that got in the book. This photo is from a series I shot in St. Louis from 1992 - 2004. You can see more of this series by going to my main website, www.kuperberg.com then click Dogs and Kids and under Portfolio choose STREET.
In the beginning, I thought Iíd be a red dress bride. I figured Iím not traditional, not virginal and pure, and nor should the wedding attire be. After all, I was keeping my name, both parents would walk me down the aisle, our ceremony would make no mention of religion. And a veil was not even a possibility. Under wine countryís open skies, and walking down the aisle toward a man with whom I already shared my home, what would be the point of wearing something that in weddings past covered a womanís face in a church? And why would I wear something so utterly different from anything any other occasion in my daily life would require? It would be like wearing a nurseís outfit on the day of my wedding. Iím a writer, not a nurse. Iím a red dress bride, not a veil wearer. What would be the point?
Six months into marriage, I can say the point is this: itís not your daily life, itís your wedding. Because even if youíve cast off the trappings of a religious or traditional wedding, there is deep meaning left still. Fact is, we get married, and we keep getting married in spite of the statistics, in spite of the challenges of melding two lives, because we are looking for meaning. We are looking for something more. More than cohabitation. More than jeans and a t-shirt. More, even, than than a fancy red dress. And that begins with a rite. With an occasion which demands a costume.
Somewhere, in the course of my 18-month engagement, something inside me shifted and I bought the costume. I wore a white dress and a veil on my wedding day. I wore two things I would never ever wear in my daily life. Two things I will never wear again. Expensive? Maybe. But frivolous? No. Not when you do the cost benefit analysis. My exceptional costume let me go to an exceptional place, a place beyond the boundaries of my daily life. It let me participate in a fearless, crazy-blissful, transcendent, powerful, intimate wedding day.
And when, in a panic over the budget, I considered returning my veil, I heard a voice in the back of my head, keening protest. It was Annaís. And it said, via an entry on her blog, ĎI love photographing veils.í And now that veil photograph hangs over our bed, watching over a love that predated marriage, certainly, but a love transformed, still.
(Below is the photo that hangs over Liz and Josh's bed, and yes I LOVE photographing veils!)