bittersweet

On August 20th, in front of loved ones, inside a small stone church, I exchanged vows with my beautiful bride and life partner. A crescendo swelled - it was overwhelming. The weeks and months leading up to our wedding day provided a steady stream of emotion that coursed through me – it was perfectly exhausting. To quell my racing brain, I began stumbling through a book written by Susan Cain that attempts to unpack, define, and contextualize the contradictory feeling of Bittersweet – something I have a deep affinity for. Cain loosely defines bittersweet as an acute awareness of passing time; a tendency to states of poignancy and sorrow; and a curiously piercing joy at the beauty of the world.

Leading up to my wedding I grappled with this daily. When asked by friends, “are you excited??” regarding my quickly approaching nuptials, there was always a hint of hesitation present in my response. Not because of second guessing, but because I find myself in a perpetual state of longing. Since the death of my sister sixteen years ago, I’ve been unable to flee the feeling of bittersweet – caught somewhere in the middle, aware of beauty and tolerating pain. With every new life moment this conflict bubbles up typically resulting in a softened demeanor, as I’m emotionally stretched in either direction.

Cain’s book helped contextualize this wrestling match and allow me to embrace the bittersweet, but also encourage me to let it enhance my presence, perspective, and relationship with the world - to view this condition as a strength rather than a crutch. This quiet state is something I chase in my photographs. I find myself pulled towards bittersweet moments, comforted by them. In some ways it’s a privilege to have this awareness because every so often that longing and separation is transcended by a fleeting moment of beauty – and sometimes you’re lucky enough to capture it.

Scenes from my wedding day and honeymoon. 

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