The day belongs
to you

Who you're hiring

Dmitri Tsitelauri

I didn't go looking for weddings.

I started in 2010 the way a lot of people start things they end up doing for a long time — by accident, and then by obsession. I picked up a camera because I wanted to understand why certain frames stayed with me when others didn't. That question turned into a life.

I photograph and film weddings in South Florida. I do both because they ask different things of me. A photograph catches the instant. A film keeps the sound of it.

I'm one person. When the day ends I go home with the cards, and when your film is finished it's finished because I finished it. There's no department to wait on and no fax machine to ring. A company can't tell you who cut your wedding. I can, because it's me.

What I'm after is the moment nobody arranged. The look your mother gives you when she thinks no one is watching. The ten seconds after the ceremony when you haven't worked out you're allowed to breathe. I don't chase those. I wait for them. That's the whole job, really — knowing where to stand, and knowing when to be quiet.

Sixteen years in, and I still get nervous before a first look. I think that's the right amount.

My wingman is Oriol. We've been friends first and a team second for years now, and he's a cinematographer and an editor — every bit as good as I am, which is the whole reason it works. On the days I'm shooting photographs, he's filming. Two friends watching the same day from two angles. When we come together, magic happens.

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