I’ve done a LOT of proposal photos. Like—a lot a lot. And every single proposal means something. But does every single one of them have me sobbing my heart out on TikTok?
(Who am I kidding. I’m crying behind the camera. I’m crying when I’m editing your previews. I’m crying when you email me “YAAAAAS”)
But the level of care, intention, and love Campbell poured into proposing to her girlfriend, Claudia, deserves to be f*cking celebrated like the actual art it was.
And the fact that it happened in a literal ART EXHIBITION?!?
You’d swear it was storyboarded (okay, it sort of was) but also… it’s just them being wrapped up in the most magical museum date moment I’ve ever witnessed.
Like…why haven’t we been planning engagements like this all along??
The most cinematic candid proposal photos start with a damn good plan.
I first met Campbell and Claudia two years ago. At the time, I felt like my brain was decaying between my ears, and I posted (no, pleaded) on Instagram for someone—ANYONE—to bring it back to life.
Enter C + C stage left, down to make fun, creative art for no other reason than to make fun, creative art (A shared love language like that? Rather serendipitous if you ask me…)
So when Campbell reached out to me last November with “I am buying the ring for Claudia, obviously I want you to shoot it, I would not have anybody else.”
“Oh and by the way one of Claudia’s all-time favorite places in the world, the Frist Art Museum, is having a temporary exhibition of her all time favorite piece by a queer artist that literally brought her to tears the first time she saw it so we’re doing it there.”
I died. But not before replying, “F*ck yes.”
Weeks beforehand the proposal photos were set to happen, Campbell and I ventured to the museum together. We met with her contact, walked the exhibit, and chose the exact spot where I’d hide, mapping the whole thing. Every decision was intentional.
That’s the thing about planning something this intimate: you don’t do it to have control over the moment. You do it to protect your presence IN it—this little pocket of time that belongs to just you two—the breath before the “yes” and ALL the emotions after.
And Campbell planned with her whole heart. She orchestrated so that spontaneity could breathe.
That’s art.
(God damn, between Claudia working for Nashville Metro Arts and Campbell planning out her proposal with Type Ali precision… I was thiiiiiis close to proposing to both of them myself.)
Plan accordingly for the moment when “will you marry me?” gets real AF.
For Campbell, it’s the day she’s been building toward since November, heart-first and planned to a T. For Claudia, it’s a Saturday she gets to spend at her favorite exhibition, with her favorite person, in her favorite place.
She didn’t know this was about to become easily one of the most epic museum dates in Frist Art Museum history (and mine).
She didn’t know Campbell had written a letter with all the vows, promises, and feelings she wouldn’t be able to speak because she knew she would be a basket case.
She definitely didn’t know I was tucked away, watching, waiting, ready to capture the whole thing.
It’s precise orchestration on one side, ease on the other, and me watching two sides of my weird little coin come to life from the shadows.
And then, Campbell (lovingly) nudged Claudia out in front of her, got down on one knee, and just… asked her to marry her.
No interruptions. No posing. No “look at me and smile.” Just the weight of every emotion this moment held.
And then they sat in a little side room off the exhibit and read Campbell’s letter together. And THEN, as if I wasn’t already a puddle of emotions, Campbell pulled out a coffee table book of the full art exhibit, where inside, she’d written:
“I promise to find you in every lifetime.”
Like… holy shit. That’s the thing no one tells you about planning a proposal: it’s not just about how you ask. It’s about creating space for the realness to rise. To hit like a darn freight train.
Let go and let the moment lead (I’ll follow).
Anytime I shoot proposal photos, I always do a little mini engagement session afterwards, but my favorite part about C+C’s is that I barely intervened.
All I did was… follow them.
Every now and then, I’d say, “Hey, let’s head to the other room” or “Turn this way,” but the rest? It was just them. Wandering, laughing, absent-mindedly grazing fingers, and kissing each other’s hands like it was the most natural thing in the world (because it is).
They moved together like the whole world had quieted down around them because that’s just… how it feels to be in love at the museum.
Me and Campbell planned the setting, but the emotion that filled it? That wildly joyful, I-can’t-believe-this-is-my-life kind of “yes” and the look on your face when you realize they mean it—that is ALL them.
Every single element of this proposal was visual poetry. Each action was intentional and each reaction was genuine.
THIS is the art of cinematically candid proposal photos. It’s the balance of two things I hold deeply: deliberate preparation and complete surrender. The tension between the scene you carefully envision and the one that unfolds on its own.
I’ve never woken up a day in my life and thought, “I hope the most unexpected, out of place, unplanned event happens to me today.” But I have always been so drawn to raw, real emotion delivered in quick, unexpected bursts. Little chaotic switches of emotion that make proposal photos feel…living. Breathing. Alive.
The control enthusiast in me gets to have the light and composition… but the artist in me knows that unexpected=unplanned=lack of control=feeling alive=the most profoundly beautiful things happen.
And C+C knew it too.
The bar for proposal photos is HERE.
There’s an immense level of trust that goes into all of the proposal photos I take. Trust that I’ll capture the moment without disrupting it. Trust that I won’t force you into stereotypical engagement poses but celebrate your childlike joy instead. Trust that I mean it when I say I am a fierce ally of the LGBTQIA+ community.
(Can you freaking imagine being such a giant f*cking a*shole that you don’t you don’t support love like C+C’s??)
Trust that I’ll see you exactly as you are—no more, no less.
That’s what Campbell trusted me to do. She chose the Frist Art Museum because Claudia’s passion—both professionally and personally—is the emotional power of an artist’s work.
She chose this exhibit because the work of M. Florine Démosthène and Didier William brought Claudia to tears the first time she saw it.
She chose me because she trusted me to know when to hold and when to let go, how to step back far enough to feel it with them, and close enough to frame it forever.
Campbell’s face etched in relief, a fist in the air fit to rival any ’80s freeze frame. Claudia’s teary eyes. Their pinky promise. Me crying behind my camera in a hallway full of art.
Campbell: you have raised the bar to Mars when it comes to proposals. What an honor it was to document this.
God damn I don’t think I’ve ever photographed such heartfelt proposal photos, and I don’t think I ever will again.
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