Salem, MA Portrait + Wedding Photographer | Kim Indresano Photography Blog

Yes, I just returned from an inspired and invigorating trip. My sister, Jeni, and I had a week together while our husbands and kids rocked the homefronts. Our parents, wrapping up a special trip of their own, met us in Paris and we had several days all together. How rare to have that kind of grownup time when our worlds are already whirling on a daily basis juggling families, businesses, pets, life, and making sure there are tasty things to eat each day. I’ll admit that I have a future wistfulness of one day, in 25 years give or take, that my two kids will want to take a small leave of absence from their regular lives for a wee stint with me and Brian somewhere like this.

Of all the sophisticated wonder that is Paris, my two favorite things were walking for miles just looking and soaking it in, and the other was speaking that glorious language. My only wish for myself was to send my inner critic packing on her own trip far from where I was and so I could just speak the French I studied from 7th grade through college. And by not being such a perfectionist about getting that grammar all straight, I succeeded; It just flowed. Here are a few peeks of my week there…

On each side of the Pont Des Arts pedestrian bridge is filled with little padlocks, inscripted with indelible marker or carved with the names of lovers. In my several visits to this city I don’t think I’ve ever seen it–so it was worthy of two morning walks to seek it out. Apparently some people lock the locks and throw the keys into the Seine river below.

This actor couple above is on the set of a film shoot.

A delish buckwheat crepe with spinach and cheese, and Jeni peeking through the window.

And cider to go with it.

We spontaneously attended a show of fashion photographer Helmut Newton at the Grand Palais and came out in the beautiful early evening light on this bridge, the Pont Alexandre.

We sisters who happen to have the same two pairs of boots and who happened to pack them all; We maturely took turns.

In an organic market on Boulevard Raspail on Sunday mornings, we came upon two women selling cotton cloth “biologique” designed by one of the women, named Amandine. I bought a meter and a half for Jeni’s birthday who, I can tell, is about to turn into a sewing maven.

Halfway through our week it was nice to give our urban overloaded selves a break and we took a train to Vernon and met my dear French exchange family (a 27-year old friendship this is) and all spent a peaceful day together in Monet’s garden in Giverny. I rekindled my flame with Impressionism on this trip, a style I loved as a kid and teen but dismissed it in my twenties and early 30′s as not “edgy enough.” Whatever that decade or so was about for me, ha. But now seeing all the paintings in person–like Monet’s Nymphéas, hugely long and housed in delicate, naturally-lit oval rooms at L’Orangerie–took my breath away. And seeing Renoir paintings of just ordinary people doing ordinary things, like a mother and a child playing with toy horses, I appreciated these anew.

Tulips along the walking paths in Monet’s garden.

Back in April when I photographed Johanna and Ben’s utterly sweet and romantic wedding in Italy, I had the great fortune to get to know these two artists, Anica and Bryn. They are both Maine and Brooklynites and they both have known Johanna for ages and therefore had large roles in the wedding festivities.

Open a window, let in that Tuscan sunshine, plop two beauties in front of a camera, and bam!

Last month, followed by an Icelandic volcanic ash-induced flight cancellation to Italy, some lucky stars aligned and I was actually able to go after all. This was after sorting out plan B for my clients and trying to personally let go of the adventure, should it come to that. But with a lot of phone persistence with the airlines, I managed to get a flight just in time, arriving the evening before the wedding. I flew into the tiny Florence airport and got a ride one hour south east to Gargonza, a tiny stone hilltop castle village built in the 1200′s. (Apparently Dante spent some time here in exile back in the day, in the early 1300′s). Mysterious fog and owl hoots that night gave way to bright sun the next morning when I chose in advance some amazing spots to photograph Jo and Ben. The muted stone colors and textures alongside pops of dark orange doors and lemon trees was beautiful to me as a photographer. And later that wedding day, a very enthusiastic and willing bride and groom made our collaboration pretty darn fabulous. I could go on and on about my jet-set spectacular four days surrounded by a welcoming, international crowd of forty guests (a large handful had to bow out due to the flight cancellations). Suffice to say I would like to return to Italy as soon as humanly possible. Much sooner than my last visit twenty years ago as an art student studying abroad in college. Here are some of my favorites from Johanna and Ben’s wedding.