the girl behind the lens

MEET Lara

The Experience

My journey into wedding photography began when my fiancé passed away.

In 2019, my fiancé Andy and I were moving into an apartment in West Philadelphia. I was expanding my fine art photography into portraiture and weddings, with Andy as my production manager and biggest supporter.

Then Andy died and everything changed. I struggled to stay in the wedding industry, but capturing memories for couples became my way of honoring what I had lost. Photos of love, joy, and connection became more precious to me.

I often think of the moments we never got to capture—our first look, private vows, or first kiss. His smile lives in my memories, but those photos would mean the world to me now.

To learn more and to see if we're a good fit, head check out my Experience page

I WILL CELEBRATE YOUR LOVE BECAUSE
I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO HAVE THAT LOVE, AND I KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO LOSE IT.

In 2019, my fiancé Andy and I were moving into an apartment in West Philadelphia. I was expanding my fine art photography into portraiture and weddings, with Andy as my production manager and biggest supporter.

Then Andy died and everything changed. I struggled to stay in the wedding industry, but capturing memories for couples became my way of honoring what I had lost. Photos of love, joy, and connection became more precious to me.

I often think of the moments we never got to capture—our first look, private vows, or first kiss. His smile lives in my memories, but those photos would mean the world to me now.

Walking around the city at night

elephants & turtles (because Andy loved them)

ROADTRIPS to national parks

everything New Orleans

pitties and pugs

a few of my favorite things:

David Lynch

NIGHTS SPENT AT THE THEATRE

freshly baked bread

trying new restaurants with people I love

It all started when I was a confused, awkward kid in High School...

Nan Goldin, Misty and Jimmy Paulette in a taxi, NYC, 1991

One day I was spending lunch alone in the art studio with a book on photography and came across a photo taken by Nan Goldin featuring two drag queens sitting in the back of a cab. There was something so accessible about this photo and in that moment, I understood the concept of 'the decisive moment.' The disparity in the expressions on their faces, the way the straps of a gold bra worn as a top over a white fishnet top with rips in it, the identity and pain that accompanied it was all right there in a single capture. Through this photograph, I felt a little less alone.

I went home and asked my dad if we had a "real" camera I could use.

I was grappling with understanding my sexuality at the time and wasn't sure where I fit into the world. Seeing this photo allowed me to understand that I could turn the lens on myself and the things I was struggling with. Photography provided me two critical paths to understanding myself. The first was artistic and exploratory, I found a safe space to define my sexuality and challenge the heteronormative messaging around me; I grew up in Tennessee, so there was (and continues to be) an excess of close-minded thinkers.

The second was more meditative; the process of developing film and making enlargements in the darkroom is very rhythmic and precise. Being alone in a dark or dimly lit room perfecting an image that matched my vision was very personal and rewarding. There was nowhere else in my life that I could be alone with my thoughts so comfortably.

One day I was spending lunch alone in the art studio with a book on photography and came across a photo taken by Nan Goldin featuring two drag queens sitting in the back of a cab. There was something so accessible about this photo and in that moment, I understood the concept of 'the decisive moment.' The disparity in their expressions on their faces, the way the straps of a gold bra worn as a top over a white fishnet top with rips in it, the identity and pain that accompanied it was all right there in a single capture. Through this photograph, I felt a little less alone.

I went home and asked my dad if we had a "real" camera I could use.

I was grappling with understanding my sexuality at the time and wasn't sure where I fit into the world. Seeing this photo allowed me to understand that I could turn the lens on myself and the things I was struggling with. Photography provided me two critical paths to understanding myself. The first was artistic and exploratory, I found a safe space to define my sexuality and challenge the heteronormative messaging around me.

The second was more meditative; the process of developing film and making enlargements in the darkroom is very rhythmic and precise. Being alone in a dark or dimly lit room perfecting an image that fits your vision is very personal and rewarding. There was nowhere else in my life that I could be alone with my thoughts so comfortably.

I love the artistry of film photography so damn much I went to school for it during the digital rise. I was going to be a fine art photographer! In hindsight, it's unsurprising that dream never came to be, but I'm so happy that I found a way to keep a camera in my hands and to provide people with tangible memories from one the happiest days of their lives.

I love the artistry of film photography so damn much I went to school for it during the digital rise. I was going to be a fine art photographer! In hindsight, it's unsurprising that dream never came to be, and I am so happy to be where I am now— camera in hand, preserving joy for kindred spirits who want to remember how their wedding day felt, not just how it looked.