What It Was Like to Photograph My Friend's Engagement
Why shooting for a best friend is the hardest (and best) gig in the world.
I stood in the guest bedroom of an Airbnb—lights off, curtains closed, camera in hand—barely daring to breathe as one of my best friends walked into the house with his girlfriend. She went to the bathroom, he headed outside, and my heart rate spiked. Everything I had prepared for over the last hour essentially went blank in my mind, and I suddenly dreaded the moment she would walk out of that bathroom and step onto the balcony.
That’s how I felt the moment before taking their engagement photos.
The Text
A few months ago, I received a text from my good friend, Greg.
“Hypothetically, if I paid for your flight to Charlotte, would you be willing to take my engagement pics?”
I’ve known Greg for three years now, and the whole time I’ve known him (and before my time in his life) he has been dating Ellie. They’re perfect for each other, balancing one another out in almost every way. I knew he would pop the question at some point; it was just a matter of when.
What I didn’t know was that he’d trust me to capture the moment. A moment that will be memorialized in their lives forever—one that can’t be changed, fabricated, or missed.
The Plan
That text kicked off the logistics: flying me down from NYC, Greg planning a special weekend for them in the North Carolina mountains, and figuring out how to get me into the rental house without her knowing to make the moment magical.
I had recently planned my own engagement, where I controlled every variable—the lighting, the location, the timing. I had a script. But this wasn’t my show; it was Greg’s. I had no control over the variables. I had to fit into their reality and capture it seamlessly. No pressure, right?
After an evening flight and a night with my parents in Davidson, NC, I made my way out to their cabin in Lake Lure. I spent the next hour sweeping, setting the ambiance, and testing my shots while I waited for them to return from a day at a winery.
I took test photos of the champagne bottle to ensure the light was perfect, thinking they’d arrive any minute. But they were still a 45-minute drive away, and things can change drastically in that time. As I waited, a realization began to kick in:
“I’m their only witness. It’s just me and them. I’m entrusted to capture the authenticity of this moment for them to share with their family and friends. These photos are going to be seen by thousands of people.”
When I took my own engagement photos, the pressure was off. What was the worst that could happen? My fiancée loves me; if I messed them up, it would just be a funny part of our story, and I could hire someone else later.
But my friend? He entrusted me with this. If I missed the shot, that was on me alone—tarnishing their memory.
The Shot
So, here we are, back in the guest bedroom, with that realization settling in.
The moment she heads out of that bathroom, I know it’s time. I step out onto the deck, camera raised. The fear vanishes instantly. The overthinking stops, and instinct takes over. I’m not worrying about settings anymore; I’m just flowing with the moment.
That doubt, that anticipation—it all fades. I’m the photographer, sure, but mostly I’m just a friend with a front-row seat to their happiness. The two of them were so clearly in love, and as they teared up, I was luckily able to hide my own misty eyes behind the camera.
What a gift: to be a spectator, a participant, and a keeper of this memory forever. That’s why I love being a photographer. Is there pressure to capture what’s in front of you? Sure. But really, what you get is an intimate view into the lives of the people you capture. And to me, that is the ultimate gift.
Cheers to Greg and Ellie.
