I captured a word: heritage.
A waterfall, running over years and never-ending, smashed into colours and cooling sensations in the most heated month of the year…does not describe the place where I started this wedding photography documentary. It describes them. I saw them as two young silhouettes at the start of an ancient climb up, up the mountains. His love counted not in rose petals, but in disturbed hair billowing in immemorial wind and immortal sun. And her love ads up to more than the regular beats of the wrist watch’s seconds, it’s felt in the blood calling him closer to her palm, near, always nearer.
They invited me to join them into a world of blue and traditional motifs, with Brasov laying clear paths in front of them and secluded places for exchanging secrets and time stopped for and in them, as the story was unwinding in images.
I prepared confortable shoes for this trip, to keep up with the ancestral traditions from the land of Fagaras and with all their memories of a life together that took them far and near, there and home again. They invited me into the shindy, to document history dancing in handcrafted sandals and flowers worn as crowns to celebrate thousands of years of heritage.
Sometimes wedding photography is the recollection of an image that unfolds and trails like threads on a cloth, from point to point. For when they said YES, they said it both to the future, already in sight, but to the past also, a past held together by a leather belt, kept warm in stylish sheepskin coats and hugged close with every good thought expressed in familiar language the future grooms received.
From lads and fair ones, descendants of the dacians, called to duty and celebration by the union, they transformed, from frame to frame, in gents and ladies, in silks, laces and silver crowns.
Every old was replaced by a new. The bride’s dance, outside the gates, into the street’s dust, with the first dance, on the dance floor in the beginning of the reception. The bread breaking over the head, fertility bringer gave way to the piece of cake made to sweeten the couple’s life. Something old and something new held hands at this wedding, like the couple did, in a story told by a storytellers voice, caressed by old grandmother hand and photographed in colour and in shades of black and white, like any legend worth retelling.
Old heritage, new customs, scenes for the ages and the ever present feeling of the NOW, framed like Instagram moments or framed by well-meaning arms, I found them all in this wedding. They made every choice with care and woven it into the narrative of the day, with changes in rhythm, like a modern playlist, but determined steps of traditional boots in dances still remembered years after the ancestors put them in motion.
In smoke they contoured the happiness to come, in soap balloons they captured resolutions, laughter and the warmth of a home that starts with her arms keeping him close. The party went on into the shadows, moments and lights, years and people, joined together by a new celebration, with a long lived heart.
I went back with them, for a trash the dress, to a place where instead of a trashing, her dress fitted in perfectly with the fresh waterfalls of the mountain and his suit looked like a chess game set between sky and earth. And they said to me, without saying, but in the images, that a love story, young when compared to the Earth, has the same beautiful landscape as a mountain. I wished for them to last as long as that place of heritage and I photographed them just for that reason.
I thought I was capturing a word. Instead, they told a story.
A thousand images for the same word by AndreiDumitrache.ro
The story of those images, by Cătălina în cuvinte
Videographer: Timeless Films by Razvan Cosma
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