I’ve always been fascinated by the space between

Film + Digital Wedding Photographer Rooted in Minnesota

Between feeling and remembering. Between art and artifact. Between photojournalism and poetry. 

And how a single photograph can somehow hold all of it. 

I’ve always been fascinated by the space between

Film + Digital Wedding Photographer Rooted in Minnesota

Between feeling and remembering. Between art and artifact. Between photojournalism and poetry. 

And how a single photograph can somehow hold all of it, memory taking shape before it knows it’s becoming one. 

Hi, I’m Michaela— a Minnesota-based fine art and film photographer (and lifelong noticer of light). I capture couples, weddings, families, and brands with a digital-and-film hybrid approach that’s part fine art, part documentary, and entirely personal. But before all that—before cameras and clients and film rolls—it started with light.

Film slows me down enough to see it; digital keeps me quick enough to catch it. Together, they help me tell stories that look like memory feels.

Hi, I’m Michaela! I'm a Minnesota-based fine art and film photographer (and lifelong noticer of light). I capture couples, weddings, families, and brands with a digital-and-film hybrid approach that’s part fine art, part documentary, and entirely personal. But before all that—before cameras and clients and film rolls—it started with light.

the obligatory origin story

How a fascination with light turned into a life’s work

I didn’t grow up thinking I’d be a photographer. I just knew I was mesmerized by light— how it moved through a room, how it changed people, how it changed me. I used to write things down: what the air smelled like after rain, how someone’s laugh filled a kitchen, the way moments became memories without warning.

I was always, always noticing.

Picking up a camera felt like another way to do that. Photography keeps me endlessly curious about how we remember the lives we live— how color, texture, and light turn a fleeting second into something we keep reaching for.

And somewhere along the way, I realized it wasn’t just the pictures I loved—it was the presence.

click for a poetry break!

I believe the most beautiful moments aren’t made—they’re met. Presence is what makes them possible.

presence is the art form

A fine-art eye guided by documentary intuition

My work begins there:
in the stillness before the laughter, in the in-between seconds most people miss.

I approach every story with both intuition and intention: offering direction when the light or posture asks for it, and stepping back when life already knows what to do... be lived. 

The experience matters as much as the imagery. Before the camera ever comes out, we talk about what you value most—the people, the rhythms, the fleeting moments that build a life: a shoulder squeeze, a look across the room, the way the quiet feels when everyone’s finally home. Every timeline and session is designed to protect that space, so you can actually live it while I document it.

FOR ME, THAT PRACTICE LOOKS LIKE:

And before you know it, presence becomes a practice

Brand shoots that move with the same creativity and care you built your business on—part storytelling, part strategy, part “don’t move, the light just found you.”

Wedding days filled with light and laughter—the veil snagged on your bouquet, the best man crying even though he swore he wouldn’t, the way golden hour makes everyone look like they’re in a period drama.

Family sessions that unfold at home, where someone’s always missing a sock, the pancakes burn a little, and the real magic happens somewhere between the chaos and the cuddles.

Different mediums, same intention: to make art that doesn’t just show your life, but seems to be living it alongside you.

The story behind the storyteller

And because every artist’s eye is a sum of their small obsessions—let me tell you a bit about mine

I find inspiration everywhere: in pottery that sits a little crooked, in thrifted glassware that ricochets afternoon light across my kitchen cabinets, in conversations that last far too long to call “small talk.”

When I’m not behind the camera, I’m probably curled up with a book I’ll definitely lend out and maybe never see again, sending a twenty-minute voice note to a long-distance friend while my matcha goes cold, or road-tripping north with my husband, Jake, just to watch the seasons change.

The story behind the storyteller

And because every artist’s eye is a sum of their small obsessions—let me tell you a bit about mine.

 I find inspiration everywhere: in pottery that sits a little crooked, in thrifted glassware that ricochets afternoon light across my kitchen cabinets, in conversations that last far too long to call “small talk.”

When I’m not behind the camera, I’m probably curled up with a book I’ll definitely lend out and maybe never see again, sending a twenty-minute voice note to a long-distance friend while my matcha goes cold, or road-tripping north with my husband, Jake, just to watch the seasons change.

some things that make me, me

I’ve watched La La Land more than thirteen times. Make of that what you will.

I turn into a different person when I play Catan, and I make no apologies for it.

My book club is 40% literature, 60% charcuterie.

I have an ongoing fascination with photographing guests’ purses at weddings.

I love Minnesota deeply—the people, the art, the seasons that insist on teaching you something new every few months.

I like to think life hides its best moments in plain sight; you just have to be paying attention.

tucked into florals, rolling across tables, perfuming the desert air. Somewhere between the sun and the hiking boots I wore under my dress, they became a symbol of joy and abundance that’s followed me ever since.

So yes, I know the difference between an apricot and an orange. But together, they tell the story better: poetry and practice, sweetness and sunlight, the art and the everyday.

You’ve probably noticed the little orange sketches woven through this site. They’re not random. Each illustration opens to an excerpt from The Apricot Memoirs by Tess Guinery, a poetry collection that’s shaped the way I see art, presence, and all the in-between moments that make a life. It’s tender, transcendent, and full of the kind of wonder that sneaks up quietly—much like the art I create out of your life.

The oranges, though? They’re personal. They were everywhere at my own wedding in Arizona—

You’ve probably noticed the little orange sketches woven through this site. They’re not random.

Each illustration opens to an excerpt from The Apricot Memoirs by Tess Guinery, a poetry collection that’s shaped the way I see art, presence, and all the in-between moments that make a life. It’s tender, transcendent, and full of the kind of wonder that sneaks up quietly—much like the art I create out of your life.

The oranges, though? They’re personal. They were everywhere at my own wedding in Arizona— tucked into florals, rolling across tables, perfuming the desert air. Somewhere between the sun and the hiking boots I wore under my dress, they became a symbol of joy and abundance that’s followed me ever since.

So yes, I know the difference between an apricot and an orange. But together, they tell the story better: poetry and practice, sweetness and sunlight, the art and the everyday.


an ode to the oranges

which, fittingly, brings us to the 'apricots'

an ode to the oranges

which, fittingly, brings us to the 'apricots'

tucked into florals, rolling across tables, perfuming the desert air. Somewhere between the sun and the hiking boots I wore under my dress, they became a symbol of joy and abundance that’s followed me ever since.

So yes, I know the difference between an apricot and an orange. But together, they tell the story better: poetry and practice, sweetness and sunlight, the art and the everyday.

You’ve probably noticed the little orange sketches woven through this site. They’re not random. Each illustration opens to an excerpt from The Apricot Memoirs by Tess Guinery, a poetry collection that’s shaped the way I see art, presence, and all the in-between moments that make a life. It’s tender, transcendent, and full of the kind of wonder that sneaks up quietly—much like the art I create out of your life.

The oranges, though? They’re personal. They were everywhere at my own wedding in Arizona—

You’ve probably noticed the little orange sketches woven through this site. They’re not random. They’re personal.

They were everywhere at my own wedding in Arizona— tucked into florals, rolling across tables, perfuming the desert air. Somewhere between the sun and the hiking boots I wore under my dress, they became a symbol of joy and abundance that’s followed me ever since.

They've also taken on a new meaning with my love for The Apricot Memoirs by Tess Guinery, a poetry collection that’s shaped the way I see art, presence, and all the in-between moments that make a life. It’s tender, transcendent, and full of the kind of wonder that sneaks up quietly—much like the art I create out of your life.

So yes, I know the difference between an apricot and an orange. But together, they tell the story better: poetry and practice, sweetness and sunlight, the art and the everyday.


Light always finds the people who aren’t looking for it.

The in-between seconds are where most stories actually live.

The photos I didn’t mean to take—the crooked tablecloth, the flower girl asleep under a chair— are the ones I come back to again and again.

Film photography is a lesson in letting go.

I never met a crooked picture frame I didn’t trust.

field notes from a noticer of things

(AKA, A working theory on what happens between the frame and the feeling)

• Light always finds the people who aren’t looking for it.
• The in-between seconds are where most stories actually live.
• The photos I didn’t mean to take—the crooked tablecloth, the flower girl asleep under a chair— are the ones I come back to again and again.
• Film photography is a lesson in letting go.
• I never met a crooked picture frame I didn’t trust.

And at the end of the day, what I’m really chasing is proof that you were here, and that it all meant something.

"best decision ever."

"Good heavens, you're phenomenal! The attention to detail, the way you've captured our emotions and memories... everything is perfectly encapsulated. Best decision ever to have you document our wedding day!"

emily, bride

if you've made it this far, we should probably make something together

Minnesota fine art and film photographer for weddings, families, and brands

Whether it’s your wedding day, your family mid-chaos, or a creative vision that deserves its own frame, I want to help you see it the way I see everything—honestly, artfully, and a little in awe of the light.

film. fine art. feeling. 

film. fine art. feeling. 

film. fine art. feeling. 

film. fine art. feeling. 

film. fine art. feeling. 

film. fine art. feeling. 

film. fine art. feeling. 

film. fine art. feeling. 

"Life should be lived with a spirit of adventure, loads of good conversation, and a heart ready to celebrate others. Love your lover, make love under the stars, let your heart feel risk, keep it wild. Follow spontaneity's lead, keep things fresh, and say 'I love you' a million times a day. Share a meal and some rouge with your tribe. Don't be tightfisted with what's in your hands— be generous! Generous with your words, your creativity, and your love. Live large, and heed to your convictions. Don't let the sun set upon anger, and be bold, even when you feel like retreating to your safe little cave. Most importantly, have faith, and love God with all your heart, mind, and soul."

the apricot memoirs

tess guinery