Here's the skinny:
I do not get paid enough for what I do.
Neither do most artists.
The truth of the matter is, that real, gritty, stupendous stories, screaming to be told, are undeniably priceless, and there's not enough money in the world for that (but I'll take a cool 100K, if you've got some to spare).
::::The Brass Lens enters stage right; CROWD GOES WILD:::::
That's not wild enough, GO WILDER, I'll wait...
Here I am, high-fiving a million angels. I'm like a less salty and suicidal version of Ernest Hemingway, and this is my Moveable Feast.
But Holy-Mother-Of-Gnomes, this is not about me. This is about Artists, Artists who are in love. Artists who breathe inspiration into everything in their life and career- Artists, who have enriched and brightened my own career, simply by being who they are.
(Yadda Yadda Yadda, back-story, some shit about our family connection- their trades, artistic mediums, current positions, interests, generally about being rad humans. Also, they have a company. Something something star wars. no, its something about rivers - @cityriverco) and Eli custom built my daughters floating bed frames. Is it relevant? I don't know, but pay attention to me anyway.
Get your facts straight, dummy.
Anyway, they throw clay, make pots, and are basically a cooler, less Patrick Swayze-y, modern day version of Ghost.
Their mixed-metal wedding was amazing. Sugar Land Barn was gorgeous, and the B-Style Floral provided beautiful chocolate cak-oh wait, I mean flowers. I had an absolute blast shooting it, and I hope everyone has a blast checking out the photos. If a blast is not initially had, please ingest approximately four cocktails and try again.
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