Telling The Story

The great Renaissance artist, Michelangelo, was once asked how he sculpted the famous statue, The David. He said something like this (forgive me oh great artist for paraphrasing what must have been far more eloquent!):

He said he started with a block of marble and carved away everything that WASN'T The David.

It feels that way when we've finished with one of our wedding films and we watch it for the last time before packaging it up and sending it out. Out of ten to fifteen hours of planned and unplanned filming, we kept cutting away moments that didn't really matter, until the story emerged in people's own words. We didn't tell the story. We found it.
That's one of the reasons we think sound is so important. And, not just sound of the predictably "important" moments like the vows or toasts. It's those little, unexpected stories, like one bride's mom's spontaneous recollection of her daughter's in-charge and decisive behavior in the sandbox with neighborhood boys. Or, a bridesmaid's recounting how she first discovered that two of her good friends had unexpectedly transitioned into a romance. There are always stories surrounding every celebration: They define the storyteller and the subject of the story as well, and in ways that we could never approach. We like to say that our films are shaped by the people who tell these stories.