Tag: Chicago

The marriage of Jamie + Phil

by Maggie Rife Ponce

I’m blown away when I pause and consider the privilege I’m given each wedding I document.  I fell in love with photojournalism while flipping through pages of National Geographic. Amongst articles featuring Inuits in Canada, or barracudas in the deep blue, famous photographers like Steve McCurry and Joel Satore presented pieces from across the World documenting special rights ceremonies. No matter what you call them, how they’re officiated, or what hemisphere they’re held, marriages are universal ceremonies between two people–a pinnacle point in their lifelong story, which I’m grateful to witness and document.

Phil and Jamie were quiet when I first met them. They were reserved, composed, and polite.  During their wedding they were moving.

Emotion filled the air; tissues touched corner’s of eyes and sniffles were muffled behind cupped hands.  From the people in the back row to the photographer crouching in the corner (me), I wager not a single person was left unmoved.

Thanks to Steve Koo for bringing me along as a second, and to Jame and Phil.What a beautiful ceremony.  Did I mention we had a blast at the reception?

Before the birds flew south.

by Maggie Rife Ponce

It was the last weekend to get away before the weather turned.  Scott and I drove down to the beach in New Buffalo, Michigan.  We planned to catch one more sunset without the inevitable weather paned window we’d be watching through during winter.  We were away from the city and the ceaseless white noise.  I relished the silence of the surrounding nature–the smells and the light, unhindered by tall buildings.

The relaxing therapy of this place is magic, unfortunately, it hadn’t completely taken effect for me yet.  I was still distracted. Instead of walking shoes, I grabbed my boats–mind you, not hiking boots.  I’m talking black, leather, boots more appropriate for a Saturday night.  It was too late to turn back though.  Undeterred, I took to the sandy beach.  My heels carved deep gouges in the shifting surface, but we pressed on. We reached the break wall, climbing up the rocky surface, carefully choosing each step.  The fishermen watched me out of the corner of their eyes, certainly sizing me up, taking in my ridiculous footwear.  “Watch yourself, you’ll wind up with a twisted ankle with those on.” I smiled, nodded, and continued on.  Finally to the cusps of the breaker, I gave in, stripping down to my socks to summit the watch tour.

A small feat, but worth discarded boots.  The last few boats of the season made their way back to shore while we took in the unbroken line of trees along the lake.  I love cities, but I find such release in the open expanse of nature.  It was a beautiful fall day, thinking about it makes me pine for spring.