The shot of my husband's reaction during the bride entrance is the most honest photo of him I have ever seen. He looks like he is being undone in slow motion.
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The shot of my husband's reaction during the bride entrance is the most honest photo of him I have ever seen. He looks like he is being undone in slow motion.
The photo of my dad kissing my mom's hand during the parents' first dance is the single best photo of my parents in existence. They have been married 41 years and no one has ever captured them like this.
I had a Pinterest board with 200 reference photos. Em gently told me to throw it away and trust him. Best decision I made all year — our gallery feels like us, not like someone else's wedding.
Em delivered exactly what he said — 900 photos in six weeks, perfect color, print release included. No surprises, no upsells, no nonsense. Refreshing.
The candid of my grandmother lighting the seventh candle of the menorah — she passed two months later — is hanging in our hallway. We see it every morning.
The detail shot Em took of my grandmother's necklace, the one she gave me to wear, is the photo my entire family asked for prints of. I had no idea he had even photographed it.
My in-laws are very traditional and were skeptical of having an outside photographer. After they saw the gallery they asked me for Em's contact info for my sister-in-law's wedding next year.
The dua portrait of my parents praying over us is going to be in our living room forever. Em waited for the moment. He did not stage it. You can tell.
My mother wore the dress my grandmother wore in 1962. Em photographed the two dresses laid out next to each other before the ceremony. Heirloom photograph. Literally.
Italian wedding, 14 hour day, four locations. Em's feet must have been destroyed. The gallery shows zero signs of fatigue from frame one to frame nine hundred.
The Greek dance circle photos are alive. You can hear the bouzouki just looking at them. Em was on the floor with us and we didn't even notice him.
The portraits in the venue garden during golden hour are objectively the best photos of my husband and me that have ever or will ever exist.
Em was at our engagement party, our nikah, our reception. By the wedding day he knew our entire family. The portraits feel like family because the photographer was treated like one.
My mother said the photos look like an Albanian movie from the seventies — in the best possible way. Em understood the texture of an Albanian wedding without me having to explain.
The photo Em took of my father at the head of the table during the family dinner the night before — sleeves rolled up, telling a story, everyone laughing — is the best photo of him that exists.
We sent the gallery to my husband's family in Pristina who could not attend. They printed 30 of the photos and hung them at the family home as if they had been there. The work is that powerful.
Got the gallery five weeks after the wedding. 847 photos, every single one of them edited beautifully. I spent four hours scrolling through it the first night and cried twice.
The henna night photos are framed all over my mother's house in Amman. She called me at 2am her time after the gallery dropped. She was crying.
Em respected that I did not want photos of myself unveiled before the ceremony for my husband to see. He worked around that without ever asking me to explain or justify. Thank you.
Chuppah, hora, bedeken — Em knew the order of every traditional element better than my husband did. The photos of the hora are kinetic.
I have looked at hundreds of wedding galleries online. Ours is the only one I can stomach looking at. That has to mean something.
The portraits of my parents together — both of them looking at me getting ready — broke me. I sent them to my dad and he didn't respond for an hour. He was crying at work.
Em waited through three takes of my father attempting to give a toast in English. He filmed all three. The final delivered version is the second take, which is the most him. I trust this man with my memories.
Em's color is unreal. The reds in my mother's rebozo are correct in every single photo. Anyone who has tried to photograph a mexican wedding knows what I mean.
The photo of my dad alone at the kiddush before walking me down the aisle — composed, calm, breathing — is the photo I will frame for the day he is no longer here.
My dress had 4,000 hand-sewn beads. Em's detail shots capture every single one of them. I sent the photos to my seamstress and she cried.
Our flower girl had a meltdown twenty minutes before the ceremony. Em quietly photographed her dad holding her, both of them in tears. That photo is the one we framed.
Em photographed my entire family individually during the reception without any of us realizing he was doing it. The portraits he sent over are now everyone's LinkedIn profile photos. We are a family of professionals now.
I am 5'2", my husband is 6'5". Em photographed us in a way that didn't make me look like a child standing next to him. That took skill I did not know was required.
We had two photographers — Em and a second shooter — and they covered both sides of the church without us realizing they were there. Lighting in the church is brutal and somehow the photos look like a Vermeer.
A few sentences is plenty — the brief, the timeline, the size of the budget. We'll come back within 1-2 business days.