I've photographed landscapes, buildings, still lifes — all the things you're supposed to practise on. None of them ever held me. People do. A face is the one subject that looks back, that changes the instant you pay attention to it, and I find that endlessly worth chasing.
What I'm after isn't a flattering picture. It's a true one — the particular way someone laughs once they've stopped performing, the look that passes between two people who think no one is watching. My whole job, most days, is to be calm and a little funny and patient enough that people forget the camera and hand me those moments without meaning to.
I care a great deal about who feels welcome in front of my lens. Every couple carries a way of being together that's theirs alone, and getting to notice it and keep it is a privilege I haven't tired of in over a decade.
By the end of a shoot, the photographs almost feel secondary to what happened to make them. Two people remembered what they look like when they're happy. I just stood quietly nearby with an old camera and caught it.