Film isn’t a medium. It’s anticipation. It’s the act of trusting something enough to wait for it. In a world where you can see every photo the second you take it, choosing film is choosing to not know. And somehow, that not knowing is exactly what makes the moment you finally get them back feel like something. That feeling is the reason wedding film photography became such a meaningful part of the way I document love stories.
I shoot film because I forget what I captured. That sounds like a flaw. It isn’t. It’s the whole point. With digital, you see everything the second it happens. You check the back of the camera, you know immediately whether you got it, and somewhere in that instant the magic of the moment becomes a file. Film doesn’t do that. You load the roll, you shoot, you send it off, and then you wait. Sometimes for weeks. And when the photos come back you’re not reviewing RAWs, you’re remembering. You’re holding proof that it happened!
And honestly? I think all weddings deserve that kind of intention. Your wedding day moves so quickly. One moment you’re getting ready with your favorite people, and the next you’re walking into a room where everyone you love is celebrating you. There are so many moments you’ll never fully realize mattered until they’re already gone.
Film creates space to come back to them differently. Not as something you checked off a list. Not as another image you immediately scrolled past. But as something you get to discover. A photograph that brings you back. That feeling is what I want for you. Not just in how I shoot your wedding, but in what you receive when it’s all over. A gallery that surprises you. Photos that feel like they were always meant to exist, not manufactured to perform. Because film isn’t special because it’s unpredictable.
Film is special because it reminds us that some things are worth waiting for.





I don’t think I realized what I was looking for when I first picked up a film camera. I found my mom’s old camera while I was in college, and something about it immediately felt different. There was no screen telling me if I got the photo. No instant confirmation. No way to look back and decide if it was good enough before moving on.
I just had to trust. I would load a roll, take it with me everywhere, and photograph whatever caught my attention. Small things. Ordinary things. Moments I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about if I had been using my phone.
Then I would send the roll away. And I would forget.
Weeks would pass, and somewhere along the way the photos stopped being something I was waiting to evaluate and became something I was waiting to remember. When those scans finally came back, I wasn’t looking through a perfectly curated collection of images. I was seeing pieces of my own life that I had almost forgotten were there. A moment I didn’t realize mattered. A feeling I didn’t know I was holding onto.
And I don’t know how to fully explain what that feels like. But I know that’s the reason film stayed with me. It reminds me that photographs don’t always have to be about proving something happened in the moment. Sometimes they can be about rediscovering something later.
Your wedding day will be full of moments you know are important, but it will also be full of hundreds of tiny things you won’t realize you’ll miss until they’re already gone. The way your dad looks at you before the ceremony. The way your best friend reaches for your hand during a quiet moment. Film gives those moments somewhere to live. Not just as photographs you saw once and moved past, but as memories you get to return to.

Film feels so natural at weddings is because weddings themselves are not meant to be consumed all at once. You spend so much time planning a day that, when it finally arrives, you can only experience it one moment at a time. You’re not standing outside of it watching everything happen. You’re inside of it.
You’re getting ready with your favorite people. You’re walking into a room full of faces you love. You’re hearing words you’ve waited months or years to hear. You’re moving from one part of the day to the next, taking in pieces of it as they come. And when you think back on it later, you probably won’t remember the timeline.
You’ll remember pieces, like the moment you shared with your sister before the ceremony. The sound of everyone laughing during dinner. The feeling of locking eyes with your partner when everything finally slowed down for a second.
That’s what I love about wedding film photography.
It doesn’t try to turn a wedding day into something perfectly polished or neatly packaged. It honors the way we actually hold onto memories—through little fragments, feelings, and moments that somehow stay with us long after everything else fades.



I don’t think film is for everyone, and that’s part of what makes it special. Film isn’t necessarily about wanting your wedding photos to look a certain way. It’s not about chasing a trend or adding something beautiful just because it photographs well.
It’s about the way you want to remember.
Maybe you’re someone who still has old photographs tucked into boxes because you love the feeling of holding something that has existed longer than you have. Maybe you love the imperfect photos—the ones where someone is mid-laugh, the ones where the lighting isn’t perfectly controlled, the ones that somehow feel more like a memory than a photograph.
Maybe you care less about having every detail documented perfectly and more about remembering what it felt like to be there. The people you love. The way the room sounded. The little moments happening just outside the spotlight. I think film tends to resonate most with couples who understand that the things worth remembering aren’t always the things we planned.
So if the idea of getting your wedding film photography back months later and discovering pieces of your day you didn’t even know were captured feels exciting to you, I think you’ll understand why film is such a meaningful part of what I offer.



At the end of the day, wedding film photography is really for the couple who cares about the feeling behind the image. The ones who would rather have a photograph that brings them back to a moment than one that simply proves it happened. It’s for the couples who want to look through their wedding gallery years from now and remember the way the day felt—the people surrounding them, the emotions they couldn’t fully process in the moment, and all the little pieces of their story they didn’t even know were being captured.
Whether you’re planning an intimate celebration, a destination wedding somewhere meaningful, or a day surrounded by the people you love most, I want to document it in a way that feels honest to you.
The moments don’t happen twice. But the way you remember them can last forever.
Based in Colorado and serving Denver, Vail, Aspen, Scottsdale, Southern California and beyond.
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