If only I had a dime for every time someone asked me why I shoot film. 

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As soon as I pull out a film canister when I fill a roll, or someone hears the telltale clicking of the super 8 film, it's the first words out of their mouth.

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My answer is the same each time: some things just aren't the same on digital.

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When you're after photos that ooze emotions and an aesthetic of authenticity, nothing beats real life captured on film. Beauty hides in the perfectly imperfect; in the grain, in the uniquely timeless texture and colors, in the art of telling a story that deserves to be told, exactly as it happened in that moment.

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There's something about film that takes you back to treasured moments in a way digital can't quite master; that's why I lug around film rolls and check light meters and load cartridges into a camera that is nearly 75 years old and pay a pretty penny to have aforementioned 75-year-old camera's film developed. And it's why those in front of the camera cherish every perfectly imperfect, beautifully nostalgic and timeless shot.

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Timeless art is rarely easy, convenient, or cheap; but it's always worth the effort. And to me, no memories are more worth the effort of film and perfectly imperfect nostalgia than those of your wedding day.