Ojala Floral Wedding Gallery for Savannah & Nicholas
It was a rare October day in Ojai in the sense that it felt like fall. There was a brilliance to the sun but a chill to the breeze. The warmth of Savannah and Nick’s welcoming home made up for any layer that had perhaps had been lost to the back of the closet since spring.
A scrolled, decorative gate unearthed from Savannah’s father’s home upon his passing was placed at the back center of the property. I layered the gate rested in a thicket of bamboo with clusters of autumnal toned blooms featuring dahlias accented with bittersweet vine, heirloom roses, bougainvillea, smokebush, plum leaf and rudbeckia.
Event Coordinator. Cynthia Alexander | Photography. Michael Newsted
an open hand and home
It was a rare October day in Ojai in the sense that it felt like fall. There was a brilliance to the sun but a chill to the breeze. The warmth of Savannah and Nick’s welcoming home made up for any layer that had perhaps had been lost to the back of the closet since spring.
The stage had been set prior to my arrival. The evening before I had dropped off farm buckets of blooms in a rusted palette of copper and wine for Savannah and her tribe of women to spend the day arranging within keepsake vases from her mother’s eclectic and extensive collection. Tables had been laid with Heather Taylor blue and white gingham cloths. Rusted red taper candles stood in vintage brass holders amongst amber glass votives. Crystal cut tumblers and goblets weaved in and out of the carefully placed floral.
Loriah Stern cooked for seventy in the well equipped kitchen where Savannah and Nick were known for preparing their own lavish dinners which they shared with friends and family in abundance. Mark Brown was there with a super 8 and polaroid camera, I knew this would be Nick and Savannah’s first day in many where they were not the sole documentarians. I appreciated that they undertook most of the preparations themselves but also knew where to pass the baton. They casually walked the grounds barefoot as a team fluffing pillows and straightening vintage Indian guaze, having done most of the heavy lifting in the weeks leading up.
A scrolled, decorative gate unearthed from Savannah’s father’s home upon his passing was placed at the back center of the property. It had been painted white and although it looked like traditional ironwork at first glance, the design itself was an open hand in the symbolic 1960’s Indian tradition. I layered the gate rested in a thicket of bamboo with clusters of autumnal toned blooms featuring dahlias accented with bittersweet vine, heirloom roses, bougainvillea, smokebush, plum leaf and rudbeckia. It was here, in their backyard, amongst friends, family and the lovely reminders of Savannah’s parents that they would trade forever vows in front of a hand that was open, not just as a symbol for their love but the openness of home that they would share with their family and friends eternally.