Weddings

Rooftop Wedding on a Roof

I was introduced to Judith by my cousin from Montreal who was visiting from Atlanta. A little while later, Judith, who lives a few blocks away from me, met Yonatan, who was from Israel but lives in Los Angeles, in Atlanta, and decided to marry. A few weeks later they did. On a rooftop in downtown Los Angeles. This is their wedding. Beautiful, simple, happy Jewish folk. Like a steak and a beer. Or a veggie burger and kombucha for those thus inclined. Setting up the Chuppah Happy Bride and Friends Documentary Wedding Photography-5.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-6.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-7.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-8.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-9.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-3.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-14.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-15.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-13.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-12.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-19.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-18.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-21.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-10.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-11.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-20.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-16.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-22.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-23.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-24.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-25.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-26.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-27.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-28.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-29.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-30.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-31.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-32.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-34.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-35.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-36.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-37.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-41.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-40.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-42.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-49.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-46.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-48.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-52.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-55.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-44.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-45.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-62.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-53.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-56.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-58.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-57.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-60.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-47.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-63.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-64.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-65.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-66.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-67.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-68.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-79.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-80.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-81.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-82.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-71.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-77.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-69.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-70.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-72.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-74.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-88.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-89.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-83.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-87.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-84.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-85.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-1-6.jpg Documentary Wedding Photography-90.jpg872527sm.jpg 872529sm.jpg 872528sm.jpg

Courting

There’s something to be said for small intimate weddings. Estee and I, while we did have a large wedding (huge actually) for some reason it wasn’t legal, (we live on the edge like that. Well it was legal according to Jewish law, we just didn't have the proper paperwork or something of the sort), so we had to marry legally at the court. Going back to the courthouse to photograph Lynn and Charles tying the knot was a wonderful and nostalgic experience.

Simple, intimate, sweet, love.

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My heart, my soul, my money

Starting with a blank sheet of pearly white paper. The kind with that lovely sort of linen texture. Eagerly awaiting those first few drops of dark, rich ink. Absorbing them, becoming one, inseparable. Together becoming so much more than each could become by their lonesome selves.

The tangible beginning, the physical binding. It starts slow, maybe a bit hesitantly, almost fearful. And then it starts coming, quick, almost too quick, as if this newly opened channel of thoughts would close as quickly as it opened. The ideas coursing through your body, down your arm, as your hand scribbles furiously to keep up; you watch amazed, detached, as this ink and paper combination, somehow, magically, become a physical embodiment of your thoughts, your emotions, of you.

And you keep on writing, knowing, even if not understanding, that the physical act of touching your ink to paper, sparked this clarity of thought, allowing you to know yourself in ways you never knew you could.

I can’t say I know Yossi and Tal very well. What I do know, is that I get a wonderful feeling when I think about them. I’ve learned to trust my instincts and impressions about people, and there’s a simplicity and calmness about these two that I really respect.

I don’t know who's the ink and who’s the paper (though the color of their dress seems to give it away). Nor am I sure if the spontaneous analogy has any bearing in reality. What I am sure of is that whatever awesomeness each one has, when it is combined with the other’s, something special will happen.

I expect great things from you two!

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My 2012 (and a bit). Paid and personal.

My 2012 was 15 months long. I'm not entirely sure how it happened, but it started sometime last October. I sold my Mamiya 645, bought a Contax 645 (read: ridiculously overpriced medium format film camera), and shot my first all film session. I fell harder in love with it and stuck my digital gear in some farflung corner of my beautifully junglistic garage. I still reach for it now and then, for dark receptions, for photos of gear, to test lenses. I kind of feel bad for it's mass produced, machine made feelings. (Of course I know digital cameras don't have feelings, it's residual mental scarring from Disney movies.) November came and I took my oversized backpack to the Genesis workshop in Memphis. I thought I was going in order to learn how to build a wedding photography business (which was the main thrust of the workshop, both the creative and the business side). Instead I came out with 50 awesome friends, and a thoroughly confounded outlook on what and how I wanted to shoot. The instructors were very encouraging, even inspiring, but when I put forth my purported goal of becoming a hot-shot wedding photographer I received some raised eyebrows. Not because anyone thought I wouldn't be good at it, rather they saw something very unique in my family work that I didn't.

I didn't see it. Not for a while at least. But then I started

***

I was planning on finishing the thought and possibly thinking up more thoughts. But being as it is now Sunday, 11:09 PM Pacific Standard Time, there are other, more time-specific thoughts to think.

Tonight begins the tenth day of the Jewish month of Shvat. On this day 63 years ago the Previous Chabad Rebbe (leader of the Chabad sect) passed away, and exactly one year later, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (known as "the Rebbe") accepted the mantle of leadership.

The Rebbe was always a large presence in our lives.

Way back when, my father grew up in Boro Park, Brooklyn (on top of Rubashkin's butcher shop). One day the Yeshiva he went to called his parents house wondering why he hasn't shown up for the past few weeks. Turns out he casually left and went to the Chabad Yeshiva in Crown Heights. (That was the good old days, nowadays we can't seem to go anywhere without the whole world knowing where we are and what we are doing.)

My mother, on the other hand, did very much of her growing up with Chabad. Her father (along with his twin, Shlomo Carlebach) was a Chossid (follower) of the Previous Rebbe, and when he passed away had a very hard time transitioning. Whereas the Previous Rebbe was very personal, the current Rebbe was more brusque (possibly due to the sheer amount of Chassidim and work that had to be done). He connected very much with the Bobov Rebbe and tried to get his family involved. Didn't happen. Being that my grandmother (whose birthday it is today) is a Schneerson and second cousins with the Rebbe, Chabad was too much of a presence to be sidetracked by any Bobovers :) (If you've got a few minutes, you could read all about my hotshot lineage.)

After my parents married the Rebbe sent them to a few places to teach and spread Judaism. After some time in Nashville (where my two oldest siblings were born), Palo Alto (where my brother was born), Long Beach (my sister and I were born there), and Westminster, we finally settled in Huntington Beach, where they established a wonderful community.

Growing up, in school, and later in Yeshiva, we had it hammered into our skulls, how very important we were. Not as Rabbi's kids, as Lubavitchers (another name for Chabad Chassidim), or even as "Orthodox" (can't stand that word), but as Jews and as people. How G-d has a mission and if we weren't an integral part of that mission then we wouldn't be here (G-d does nothing in vain).

We were taught not only not to judge others, but to respect everyone, for who they are, and who they can be. To learn from them. The Rebbe taught us to be real, and to make G-dliness a real part of our lives. Not just doing what G-d wants, but to work on ourselves until we feel it. Until the fact that G-d is everywhere and everything, is not just an intellectual concept but something we see with our own eyes.

The Rebbe taught us to be real. He showed us (along with the previous Rebbes) that G-d and his Torah don't have to be foreign concepts forced upon our consciousness. That we don't have to fight our inner nature, rather we have to reveal it.

And that is why a Rebbe is so important. We all may know, and even believe. But we don't see G-d. We see tables, clouds, beer, mountains, buildings, tar pits, and flashlights. And we may know that behind all the physicality is a G-dly animating force. But we don't see it.

The Rebbe does.

The Rebbe sees the world as G-d does. He doesn't see a hand, he sees an instrument to give charity. Not beer, but something to allow us to open up more freely and talk about things that actually matter. Not a table, rather something by which we can learn and eat. For in fact, a hand is nothing but the expression of G-ds will that charity should be given, and tables were created out of G-ds will that books be learned, and food be eaten (uplifted). And when we connect to the Rebbe, through his teachings and directives, we connect to that level. And now and then, even get a glimpse of that perspective, that truth.

Be real. Live truth. That is the goal. And that's the mission.

***

My thoughts, beer, and chia seed pudding, are all running low. The AM has laid down it's chilly fingers, and my brain is all athunked.

Below is my year. And a bit (and most of December is at the lab). Both paid and personal work (my family work I'll save for a later date). I've learned how to take pretty photos, and sometimes even good ones. I'm posting this more for myself, to see next year how much I've grown, how much I've learned. If I did at all.

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Important notes: Tonight's beer is Firestone Brewery, Union Jack, India Pale Ale. Full bodied and bitter, though slightly boring. Decent and overpriced. Chia Seed Pudding is made from Chia seeds, water, raw honey, unrefined coconut oil, walnuts and raisins.

Rachel + Yitzie // Los Angeles, CA

I have typers bock. It's a rare yet harsh malady where although one may have much to say, or even write, those tiny muscles in fingers refuse to translate the impulses sent by the brain into action. Instead somehow I end up in front of the fridge, wondering how long I've been there for.

So I grab a beer (or, if there isn't one in the fridge, I storm away fuming), head back to my computer and type with my toes. Yes, this blog was typed with my toes.

I also used seven cameras for this wedding. Seven. Why? That is a very, very good question. My back and shoulders would like to know the same.

Rachel and her family were part of our community since, well, I can't remember when we didn't know each other. It's amazing to see people grow up into truly unique and special people. Yitzi was always grown up. He may have been a child once but we only met a few months before the wedding, so I have no proof. I do know that he is über smart, witty, and kind. Not a bad combo. There's a lot to tell about this beautiful wedding, with beautiful friends, and beautiful families, but I'll let the photos tell the story.

Enjoy.

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St. Louis Wedding {Jewish Wedding Photographer}

Many years ago in a place far far away, there lived this wonderful family. A father a mother and a few little kiddos. One snowy morning a Rabbi and his family popped into town. It was love at first sight. And while eventually both moved to opposite sides of the continent they kept in touch. First via snail mail and telephones. Then by cellphones, email and eventually jetpack.

One fine day, son of said family met and fell in love with a wonderful girl from St. Louis. She said yes, he called dad, dad called rabbi and there was much rejoicing all around. Then dad calls rabbi's wife's brother, who's blog his wife's been following and asked him to photograph the upcoming celebration.

Rabbi' wife's brother was quite nervous, as this was only his second wedding and dad of bride was a photographer himself. After consultation with his wife and a beer or two, said brother if rabbi's wife agreed.

And what a beautiful wedding it was. Rejoicing, dancing, eating and only a bit of crying.

My shoulders were sore for weeks.

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Thank G-d the family was very happy with the photographs. What was funny is that during the event I got many comments about what a good photographer I was (I was all over the place, running around like a nut) and not one of them actually saw any of my pictures beforehand.

The part I was most worried about was the formals. I do not yet have that mush experience with that sort of thing yet. The dad was kind enough to bring some of his studio lighting and helped me out there. I am used to California where I could always go outside and find somewhere nice, but in St. Louis it was cold and miserable out there so that wasn't really an option. I'll get there.