Fine Art Manhattan Wedding Photographer: Where Sophistication Meets Emotion

Hailing a cab from Central Park East to Restaurant Daniel on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

I wasn’t the type of kid that dreamed of moving to New York. My older sister discovered musical theater at a young age. My mom would bring her up here from Philadelphia to see Broadway shows every so often. She dreamed of being on the stage and living in the big city. While I knew I wanted to be a photographer, New York never really factored into my imagination. I had a vague fantasy of exploring the world for National Geographic. I would pour over photographs from foreign lands and my consciousness would somehow be transported to exotic and mystical places. I couldn’t conceptualize what it would take to live that life, but I knew that photographs had power and I wanted to wield it. So until high school, Broadway was my only real exposure to the big apple. I hadn’t yet understood the myriad of dreams New York is capable of containing. She’s like a cosmic Russian doll with the dreams of multitudes nestled inside her.

Annie & Patrick sharing a special Champagne Toast at the iconic Chelsea Hotel in the Flatiron District shortly after it was remodeled.

Studying photography was absolutely a dream come true to me, I loved discovering its secrets and magic, but Philadelphia left me feeling lonely. I never really fit into the culture and I constantly had the feeling I was missing something. While New York wasn’t yet calling me, I felt an intense desire for my life to be something more. My professor sensed an innate talent in me and arranged for me to do my junior year internship at the prestigious Pace MacGill gallery on 57th and Madison streets. I was dazzled by the experience. It was like I was peeking through a door that was left cracked open to a world I never knew existed and I stood transfixed by the sights. It was the kind of classic internship that movies are made of: no pay and long hours doing all kinds of menial tasks. I would regularly spend all day running all over town dropping off prints or picking up frames or delivering expensive gifts to high end clients. I got to meet the inimitable Irving Penn on one such occasion. On another such errand I stood patiently in Duane Michals’ kitchen while he chatted amiably as he bent over his washing machine, which as it turned out, was his favorite place to sign his prints. Emmet Gowin and his wife Edith were regulars at the gallery, coming in to help catalog his archive. These were heroes, giants even to my young photographic heart. This was in the pre-iPhone era. I once spent the better part of an afternoon trying to find my way to a film lab on Little West 12th Street which all these years later still sounds like a fictional place to me. And every Monday it was my responsibility to pick up a dozen white roses at the same flower shop on Park Avenue and arrange them in a vase for reception. It felt decadent and luxurious and I wanted more of that level of excellence.

Detail of a waiter at Bemelman’s Bar the historic Carlyle Hotel on Manhattan’s Upper East Side.

By the time I got back to Philadelphia for my senior year I had fully caught the bug. I started reaching out to wedding photographers immediately to see if they needed an assistant or second shooter. It was another year after I graduated before I landed a job for the semi-famous photo world darlings and identical twins Doug & Mike Starn. I moved up to Brooklyn immediately and used to ride my bike from Williamsburg to their warehouse studio in Red Hook. It was a version of New York that seems like it’s all but disappeared now. Patti Smith’s memoir ‘Just Kids’ came out just three years after I moved to Brooklyn and somehow coincided with the moment when the bottom fell out of the photography industry. It was incredibly romantic and inspiring to me to imagine Patti and Robert Mapplethorpe experiencing the New York of the 70s, true artist-bohemians living the dream. My sister never ended up singing on Broadway. Instead, she stayed in Philadelphia and pursued a career in opera. Meanwhile, I discovered a version of New York that young Carey never could have dreamed of. I found mine in the galleries, the artist studios and the warehouse spaces. I’ve lived in New York eighteen years now and I’ve still never once gone to a Broadway musical. Instead, I’ve danced till dawn at warehouses in Bushwick. I’ve partied in countless lofts and watched symphonies from skyscrapers. I’ve worked in art galleries and for photo agents and assisted on photo sets. So many doors have opened for me over the years and still, every time I get to a new one, I feel the magic. Sometimes I even close my eyes in anticipation of what otherworldly scene awaits me. Am I dreaming?

In the elevator at The Plaza Hotel on 5th Avenue on our way to the first look.

Looking back on it now, I realize what a thoroughly perfect introduction I had to this city. New York is a city that is constantly changing, a whirling vortex of energy that’s nearly impossible to keep up with. Every door you open is a window into a secret world. A dream unfolding just for you. Yet there’s also this timeless iconic style imbued throughout everything that is somehow indestructible. The layers of history are steeped into the walls. My favorite thing about Manhattan weddings is still the mysterious feeling that every room I enter holds a surprise gift. A New York story waiting to be told. I once had the distinct pleasure of photographing Andra Day while she serenaded a couple at Bemelman’s Bar at the Carlyle Hotel. The next day the couple had a baby grand piano wheeled into their penthouse room and brought in a pianist to lead guests in an after-party sing along. Another time I was photographing a wedding at The Grill. I felt a buzz of energy behind me and turned around to realize the Clintons (even Chelsea) had all arrived. I hadn’t even been told they were coming. But I remember the more quotidian occurrences just as strongly, the park employee who turned a blind eye when I took portraits in Central Park’s conservatory garden without a permit. The strangers shouting congratulations whenever they see a bride on the sidewalk.

Jazz Musician playing Trumpet at the Angel Orensanz Foundation in Manhattan’s Lower East Side

Most of my couples proudly claim they aren’t traditional, that they’re doing their wedding their own way (if you listen closely you can almost hear Frank Sinatra crooning). But after so many years of photographing here in my beloved city, I’ve started to pushback. New York has its own flavor of tradition. It might not look like the weddings our friends hold in our home towns. It might not have a huge bridal party or be in the church we grew up attending, instead it looks like dinner at a glamorous New York restaurant or historic venue, a yellow taxi cab hailed between venues, a quick walk through Central Park, or maybe a champagne toast in a SoHo loft, vows at City Hall followed by oysters at Grand Central. Even as I write this I can hear Alicia Keys anthem blaring in my head, “… concrete jungle where dreams are made of.” My job now is to document your dreams.

Metropolitan Museum Engagement Photography NYC: An Urban Love Story

Pure joy on the Met steps - the Upper East Side energy is contagious

Technically, you are not allowed to take photographs in New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art. I arrive with my smallest camera and a prayer that the docents will turn a blind eye. Katie has brought not one, not two but three outfit changes and an effervescence that is contagious. Max is as a patient as they come. He has brought no outfit changes.

We are going for a timeless NYC gritty aesthetic, something that feels straight out of an editorial magazine spread from the 90s. Somehow we manage to keep a low enough profile inside the art museum despite Katie’s showstopping strapless dress with a bow adorned on the back. It’s such a joy to walk through all these magnificent galleries. The necessity to be inconspicuous somehow lends itself to a carefree, candid joie de vivre. Outside, we quickly stop at a food truck before popping into Central Park then make our way down to Tribeca and over to Brooklyn. A thoroughly New York experience.

A spontaneous dip in the Temple of Dendur wing while museum-goers pass by

Katie and Max in the Met's modern wing - Katie showing off her unique style with her signature bow drawing every eye

The Metropolitan Museum of Art doesn't technically allow photography without a permit, and they certainly don't allow what amounts to an impromptu engagement session in their galleries. But there's something irresistible about the challenge. The Met is one of the most iconic cultural institutions in the world, sitting regally on Fifth Avenue overlooking Central Park. For couples who want their engagement photos to feel like they're part of something larger than themselves - part of the cultural fabric of New York - there's no better backdrop. The risk is part of the appeal. Katie and Max weren't interested in playing it safe. They wanted their photos to feel a little dangerous, a little rebellious, very New York. So we showed up with my smallest, most discreet camera, dressed to blend in as much as possible (though Katie's showstopping dress made that nearly impossible), and moved through the museum like we belonged there. The key to pulling this off is confidence and speed. Act like a couple who just happens to be visiting the museum, move quickly, don't draw attention. The docents are looking for tripods and professional lighting setups, not a photographer with a small camera capturing candid moments.

A quintessential New York moment - stopping at a street food cart between locations

Katie arrived with a garment bag that could have clothed a small bridal party. Three complete outfit changes: the strapless white dress with the dramatic bow on the back for the Met, a chic teddy coat and sunglasses for the Upper East Side and Central Park, and a sharp white blazer with a plunging neckline for downtown. Each look had a distinct energy - editorial elegance at the museum, uptown sophistication in the park, downtown cool in Tribeca and Brooklyn. We were going for a 90s editorial aesthetic, the kind of effortless glamour you'd find in vintage Vogue or Harper's Bazaar spreads. Think Christy Turlington and Linda Evangelista walking through the city like they owned it. Max, bless him, brought zero outfit changes. He wore a perfectly tailored suit and let Katie be the star. His patience was remarkable - waiting while she changed in museum bathrooms and back seats of cars, never once looking annoyed. Their dynamic was playful and easy. Katie's effervescence was contagious. She moved through the day with the energy of someone who genuinely loved being photographed, who understood that we were making something special together. Max grounded her, patient and steady, smiling at her antics, game for whatever came next.

Max flagging down a taxi on the cobblestones of Tribeca - effortless New York sophistication

Max on the streets of Tribeca - classic New York cool

After we'd pushed our luck at the Met as far as we dared, we spilled out onto Fifth Avenue and made our way to Central Park. A quick stop for outfit change number two, then we wandered through the park capturing that uptown elegance. From there, we headed downtown to Tribeca - Katie in her third look, both of them ready for the grittier, more industrial aesthetic of lower Manhattan. Tribeca gave us cobblestone streets, cast-iron architecture, and that perfect late afternoon light that makes everything look cinematic. We stopped at a food truck (because that's what you do in New York), Max hailed a cab with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times, and then we drove across the Brooklyn Bridge as the sun started to set. There's something about moving through multiple neighborhoods in a single session that captures the full breadth of what New York is. It's not just one thing - it's elegant museums and street food, uptown sophistication and downtown grit, Manhattan and Brooklyn, monuments and everyday moments all woven together. That's what makes it New York.

Walking the cobblestone streets of Tribeca in Katie's second look

There's a particular energy that comes from shooting in places where you're not entirely sure you're allowed to be. Everything becomes more urgent, more alive. You move faster, you're more present, you take risks you wouldn't otherwise take. Katie and Max embraced this completely. The need to be inconspicuous at the Met somehow made them more natural, more themselves. When you can't pose for long, when you have to keep moving, the photos end up feeling less staged and more documentary. It's the opposite of a controlled studio environment, and for the right couple, that chaos creates magic. This approach isn't for everyone. It requires couples who are game for adventure, who don't need everything to be perfectly planned, who can laugh when things go sideways. But for Katie and Max, the guerrilla style of moving through the city, changing locations and looks, shooting quickly and quietly when necessary and more boldly when we could - it all added up to something that felt authentically them and authentically New York.

A quiet moment in the back of the car between neighborhoods

Driving across the Brooklyn Bridge - Manhattan to Brooklyn in minutes

Editorial vs DocumentaryWedding Photography and why you can have both…

One of the things that makes wedding photography so fulfilling as a career is that it requires so much of me. It’s not enough just to make a great picture. I have to a be a master of documentary style moments, still life & detail, well-lit and composed portraits, not to mention perfecting the art of the group portrait (but here again the level of difficulty is raised to the extreme, it’s not one group photo perfectly composed and lit, but twenty, shot in quick succession). Everything is moving so quickly, including the light which tends to shift with every scene.

It took time to develop my skills and not all of them were photographic in nature. When I was younger and more exquisitely shy, I was content to sit back and watch the day unfold around me like a movie. I rarely wanted to interject myself. I liked to watch my couples, especially their gestures and body language. I would direct as quietly and simply as possible. Wall-flower-esque, clad in all black, I would slip between guests doing my best to disappear entirely, to become merely a set of eyes, a ninja wielding a camera instead of a sword. Directing the formal portraiture was quietly, intensely humbling. I promised my couples that once the portraits were over the schedule would be down hill. It occurs to me now, it was myself that needed reassurance. I would photograph all day in a frenzy, and then later, at home where I had more time to think, I would edit everything down, slowly watching the story coalesce.

Eventually, as my experience increased, my insecurities dropped away. I honed my photographic muscles until I didn’t have to overthink my choice of where to stand to get the best perspective, or what to say to get an awkward feeling groom to feel at ease. My yoga practice spilled over into my wedding practice. I started setting aside an hour before each wedding to meditate. I would repeat a mantra over and over again, “Spirit, move me in the direction of the bride and groom today. Move my feet, move my body, move my heart, move my mind.” It was an experiment in surrender. I gave myself over to the flow, and, trusting that the experience was part of the fabric of my being now, I let my intuition lead the way. Miracles followed. I began to find myself exactly where I was needed at the exact perfect moment, and my brain, previously awash with questions and doubts became blessedly quiet. I began to write the story of the day more clearly, and in present time.

As my focus became sharper and quicker, what began to fill in the silence were ideas. I became less of a silent observer and more of an editorial storyteller with a clear point of view: What if I tell the story from this angle? What if this part of the day is seen through the guests’ eyes? What if we shoot on this side of the room where the light is so magical? What would happen if you went and stood in front of those columns and danced for me? Maybe I could slow the traffic down behind you so it looks like you’re frozen in time? Let’s wait for a yellow cab to pass behind you to capture the ambiance of the city.

My meditations grew beyond the mantras. In the days leading up to each wedding, instead of merely fretting over the schedule and portraits lists, I began to daydream about the couple and the venue. I let ideas float around in my consciousness, envisioning how the day might unfold. Sometimes I’m lucky enough to walk the grounds of the venue in person, often I find myself walking in my imagination, feeling into what’s coming.

I grew into the role of director of grand cinematic moments when called for while easily donning my documentary, ninja mask in the quieter moments. What results is a weave, a dance between editorial and reportage styles of photography, woven out of my many years of experience and your love, then channeled via an ever mysterious alchemy through my lens.