Makenna & Austin

There was something beautifully ordinary about this day — and that’s what made it so memorable.

Mathilde and Philippe didn’t want a production. They wanted to wake up at home, move slowly through the morning, enjoy the neighbourhood they love so much, and celebrate surrounded by the people who matter most. We had talked about it over beers and wine, and a few good snacks, throughout the year.

We knew the rain would come say hi that day — and it did. Still, we met for an early walk around the park with their dog and went along with it. We warmed ourselves with coffee, then went our separate ways to gather our things before the day would officially begin. Although, in truth, it already had. A small ritual that grounded everything that followed.

What unfolded was less about performance and more about connection — about being fully there. The gestures, the glances, the pauses between things. Even the sun made its entrance just as Mathilde and Philippe walked down the aisle, hand in hand. The energy in the air was electric; my own hands were shaking, as you can see in the photographs. What I feel, they feel.

At Hoogan & Beaufort, the open kitchen created a rhythm of its own — plates landing on tables, chefs calling to one another, the sound of glass, fire, and conversation blending together. There was a shared sense of care — for food, for gathering, for craft. Later, a breath of fresh air outside turned into one of the most touching moments I’ve witnessed. “You taught me humility,” Mathilde’s father said. His words still echo in me.

Photographed on analog (35mm and 120 film) and digital, this memory box traces that movement — from morning calm to late-night warmth — through layers of texture and tone. It’s a portrait of a day lived fully, without forcing it into anything more than what it was.

Months later, we met again for another cup of coffee in their neighbourhood. Spring had turned to summer, and then to autumn. The first snow would fall a few days later. Things had changed, and yet everything felt the same. Through those seasons, I had assembled their memories into an art book — a quiet object that holds the rhythm of the day in sequence and texture.

They left with their book and holiday gifts for their parents. I left with warm hugs. Later that evening, they would host friends for dinner.

And so it began once more.

We strolled around the neighbourhoods of Plateau Mont-Royal and Mile End, in the heart of Montreal - my home.

± 2h30 spent together. Photographed on 35mm film & crafted for a digital memory box.

Processing: All Things Film‍