why I photograph love

Sunday, May 29th, 2022

Photograph by Madeleine Dalkie

To me, love is everywhere.

Romantic I know, but let me elaborate.

Love, for me, is rooted in observation, in curiosity. In acceptance. In gratitude. Love is being present enough to notice the thing, to celebrate it for exactly what it is and to thank it for its unique presence in the world, for simply existing in all of its perfect and brave authenticity.

I pass a flower blooming on the edge of the city sidewalk, its delicate roots intertwining with concrete. It is alone and already I wish it had friends close by, but in this moment it has me. The pale yellow petals fold into an intricate maze, holding bees like pillowy clouds as they drop in to say hello with a kiss. How it shares its sweet gift with another so generously. I smile at its beauty, at the way it allows the warm breeze to rush across it before setting into stillness once again. Even though a hundred dirty shoes pass by and threaten to crush it in their hurriedness, it has bloomed where it was planted (nature forever teaching us about resiliency). I feel happy even though this flower has not done anything for me- it has not given me a present on my birthday, nor ran an errand on my behalf during a busy time. It has not complimented me on my new haircut. What I feel for it doesn’t really have anything to do with me at all. It simply exists, as it is, and my day is made all the more wonderful for it. An act of love.

I think I found love everywhere starting at an early age because I needed to. I couldn’t find it at home, no matter how badly I wanted to. Instead of comfort, I found fear and instead of acceptance, shame. Instead of love, my heart broke about a thousand times. I was told, often, that there was no love to be found in me either, that I did not possess anything lovable in my small innocent body. I was told that I would have to try really hard to become someone different, someone that could earn love one day, maybe. This person who was supposed to love me before I even entered this life could not see all the love around her and blamed me for its absence. So I found love everywhere else to remind myself that it existed, and I let it surround me. I would run barefoot across the grass, reaching the pond with wet cheeks, the quiet of dusk wrapping me up like a soft blanket. I would watch as a fish leapt fearlessly into the air for the mosquito hovering above. And if the mosquito escaped, the fish would leap again, trusting in itself, believing in its ability to survive. An act of love.

Over the years, I reassured myself that I was worthy of love. This was harder to believe at times, or with certain people. People that want the rose but not the thorn, so to speak. People that want the ease of loving the pretty thing without the effort of loving the thing that truly needs the love. I tried to show only my pretty things and although my soul was craving love, my behaviour was merely seeking approval, something that very weakly resembles love. It took me many years to be brave and to show another the cracks, the darkness, the still open wound— and ask, “but can you love this too?” For me, bravery was knowing that while not everyone would be able to answer “yes”, I would still be okay in the end because I answered “yes” to myself. An act of love.

They say what you do is not who you are and while I tend to agree, I find those things inextricably linked in me. Photography is what I do, but love is who I am and love is there in every photograph I take. Capturing everyday moments of love has become my career, but observing them was always my passion, my reason to hope, my lifeline to joy. I am so grateful for all the couples, families and souls who have welcomed me in to see them, to get to know them and to let them shine exactly as they are. It has been my greatest act of love to believe in its very existence and when I am behind my camera, I see that it is possible, that it is abundant, and that it is more wonderful than I ever dreamed.

a warm welcome to rose and sunday

Sunday, May 1st, 2022

A few years ago, I had wrapped my third wedding season. Seemingly overnight, photography had gone from a beloved hobby to my career as I was plucked from obscurity onto a team of wildly talented photographers. I was busier than I had ever envisioned, so grateful for the opportunities and fabulous events that I was a part of…. and burnt out. I was completely and utterly burnt out.

My apartment was a cluttered mess, my body was so run down it was turning against me and emotionally, I was overwhelmed. I desperately craved an escape and if I found one, I didn’t want to come home again.

That was January 2020.

I didn’t know what my next step was going to be- I only knew that what I had been doing was not sustainable. I thought, perhaps photography was better suited to something part-time or even a passion project on the side. A hobby, just like it had been since I was a child.

And then came March. And with it, a global pandemic.

“I thought, perhaps photography was better
suited to something part-time…”

It was a time of such collective heartache, separation and fear as we watched the world screech to a halt. I was without work and wasn’t sure what a career, or life for that matter, would look like under these new circumstances. But, I was able and blessed enough to hunker down. I watched movies, read books, and rediscovered cooking- a passion of mine that also fell by the wayside in all of the busyness. I bought plants and watched them grow. I built a gallery wall in my living room and shed tears as my long-awaited visions of home finally came true. I didn’t pick up my camera for a while, but when I did once again, it was for me…only for me, to explore and to express all the complexities of what I was feeling.

And in that time, healing.

“I didn’t pick up my camera for a while, but when I did once again, it was for me….only for me.”

A little over two years later, I am here. I am working full-time as a photographer once again, though this time around, it is nourishing. Inspiring. Filled with moments that make me want to pick up my camera again and again and get closer and closer to the well of creativity inside.

I never dreamt I’d have a website of my own, but I am so proud of it. Proud of this place that feels like me and represents what I want to create in this world, for the people around me. A place filled with softness and intention, warmth and love. A place for everyday magic, untouched and unbothered by the hectic world outside. A place to sit down for a little while with a cup of tea and a biscuit.
A place with books and laughter and the smell of roses and Sunday mornings. Like the best kind of home, maybe.