Lessons from the lens

Lessons from the Lens: A Wedding, a Wake-Up Call, and the Magic of Memories

Well, hello again, loyal readers (and anyone else who's stumbled upon this corner of the internet)! As promised in my last post, I'm diving into a recent adventure that was equal parts exhilarating and, shall we say, enlightening: filming a friend's wedding.

This wasn't my first rodeo; it was actually my fourth wedding gig. Like the others, I offered my services pro-bono, a trade-off for invaluable experience and another chance to push my skills. About a year ago, I dipped my toes into the multi-camera waters with a second camera, and for this most recent wedding last week, I decided to take the plunge into the deep end, wielding both a second and a third camera. Go big or go home, right?

One of the immediate differences between this wedding and the last was the lighting. Last year's outdoor ceremony was bathed in glorious natural light, making for beautifully true-to-life colors and minimal post-production tweaking. This past week's wedding, however, was a masterclass in challenging lighting scenarios. And then, I made one of the cardinal sins of videography. The kind of mistake that makes you want to crawl under a rock and never emerge. I forgot to clean my lenses.

Upon review, I was heartbroken. Not only was the lighting a nightmare – requiring days of intensive editing just to get it decent (nowhere near perfect, mind you) – but the dirty lenses had plastered a grainy, almost vintage film look over everything. It was like watching a classic 80s sitcom, but without the nostalgic charm. I'm still mentally kicking myself over it. Of course, my friend, the groom, was incredibly gracious, insisting it was "perfect" and that I did a "great job." But I can't shake the feeling he was just being kind, given the free service.

Beyond Pixels: The True Value of Captured Moments

Yet, through that initial wave of self-criticism, a different perspective emerged. Sometimes, with videography, it's not solely about the pristine technical quality. It's about the memories you're recording, the purpose, the thought, and the sheer effort poured into it. I've seen videos with less-than-stellar image quality, but where the production was fantastic – the way the camera moved, the engaging angles, the captivating perspective, the story being told.

Perhaps I'll be criticized for this, but hear me out: Think about Seinfeld. In my humble opinion, it had its fair share of lighting quirks and technical imperfections. Yet, the brilliant storytelling, the iconic characters, and the meticulously crafted scenes made it one of the greatest TV shows ever. To me, the technical quality faded into the background because the essence was pure brilliance. It was, and still is, binge-worthy. And I sincerely hope that the wedding video I captured is equally binge-worthy for my friends, watched not just once, but many times over.

It reminds me of my own wedding, 21 years ago. Someone filmed our wedding for my wife and I.  Friends and family shared kind words and wisdom for us, the newlywed couple. One relative sagely advised that if my wife and I ever hit a rough patch, we should rewatch that video to remember why we got married, to transport us back to that joyous day. The camera quality was far from perfect, but I've rewatched it countless times, loving it for the sheer emotional value it holds for our marriage. It literally preserved those memories.

The Power of a Time Capsule

As we age, memories can become hazy, and precious moments can slip away. Videos and photos, however, create a time capsule. They aren't just for me; they're for family and friends to reflect on, to laugh at, to cry over, and to simply remember. Just a year or so ago, at my father's birthday party, I was able to share old camcorder videos from my teenage years, moments we shared at our cabin. We sat together, mesmerized, even though my camera work back then was, shall we say, "developing." If I hadn't decided to record those simple family moments, we wouldn't have been able to relive them together that day.

This is why I love what I do. I love seeing smiles, sharing tears over something deeply moving, and laughing at forgotten funny moments. I captured so many similar moments for my friends at their wedding. And despite the lingering regret over those dirty lenses, despite the long hours trying to salvage the footage, I am profoundly proud of WHAT I recorded, and WHAT I produced. I'm happy knowing that one day, perhaps 21 years down the road, they might sit down at a birthday or anniversary party, press play, and be transported back to their special day.

The true magic of videography, I've come to realize, lies not in perfect pixels or flawless lighting, but in the stories it preserves. It's about freezing moments in time, creating a tangible connection to the past, and crafting a legacy that transcends technical imperfections. Imagine, years from now, a future generation – perhaps children, grandchildren, or even great-grandchildren – gathering together, pressing play, and seeing the vibrant love, the heartfelt vows, and the joyous celebrations of that day. They'll witness not just an event, but a piece of their family's history, a window into the emotions and connections that shaped their lineage. This video, with all its quirks and charms, will become a living heirloom, a testament to a beginning, a source of comfort, laughter, and an enduring reminder that love, in all its forms, is worth capturing, cherishing, and sharing for a lifetime and beyond.