Brides, Bones & Blessings: A Visual Offering from the Field

I recently submitted work to Vogue’s PhotoVogue Global Open Call, Women by Women, who invites female and non-binary photographers worldwide to submit work that authentically explores and reclaims the gaze through the lens of women-identifying creators. This theme immediately struck a chord. My submission "Brides, Bones, and Blessings" is a haunting and tender, strange and ceremonial photo essay following a bride to be processing her own chickens for her upcoming spring wedding.

Dreamy sunflowers and passion fruit vines wrap the Goleta, CA property

I was invited to spend a day at a friend’s home in Goleta, California, where I was invited to witness and help with the processing of chickens for her upcoming spring wedding. It might not be a traditional pre-wedding ritual, but it was deeply intentional, and one of the most honest expressions of care I’ve been allowed to document.

The setting itself felt like a story. The property, tucked in a suburban pocket, held an urban feel softened by wild beauty—backed up to a butterfly sanctuary, wrapped in passion fruit vines, and flanked by tall native sunflowers leaning like curious onlookers. It was the kind of place where transformation felt alive in every direction.

As someone with a background in animal welfare, I’ll admit—my gut reaction was hesitation. The idea of butchering an animal made me squeamish. But I wasn’t there to perform the act—I was there to witness it. I’m always looking to tag along with friends and communities to help tell stories about practices that may be misunderstood or overlooked by the broader public. This was exactly that kind of story.

The makeshift processing cone, straight from the streets of Goleta, California

The chickens had been raised with love, fed daily, and doted on. They were a meat breed—genetically designed to grow fast and large—so processing them before their bodies outgrew their legs was a hard but humane choice. The bride, grounded and graceful, used a repurposed Goleta traffic cone to funnel the birds headfirst, allowing for calm restraint and quick access to the neck. I watched the first bird leave this plane quietly, peacefully.

But after the first few, the process became more visceral. Blood began to spatter our shoes, the softened wood of the deck, and the bride’s hands—hands that serendipitously wore a red ruby engagement ring, catching glints of light and color that echoed the ritual unfolding around us. It was a moment both cinematic and real, the kind of accidental symbolism that art directors chase for years. Here, it just... happened.

A bride's shows off her blood-speckled wedding hand and ruby-red engagement ring after all the birds have been processed for her spring wedding.

From there, the birds were washed, de-feathered in a rotating machine, gutted, quickly boiled, then wrapped in plastic and tucked into a freezer. A quiet inventory built up—each bird a future meal, a memory, a part of a larger story that would culminate in a wedding feast six months later.

It was equal parts brutal and sacred. And it felt like the perfect embodiment of the Brides, Bones, and Blessings theme. A woman preparing for marriage by honoring the labor of nourishment, the intimacy of death, the ethics of consumption. A ritual not performed for aesthetics, but for survival and care.

My submission to the contest wasn’t about shock—it was about reverence. About choosing to look, when it’s easier not to. About documenting the rituals we rarely speak of, especially the ones carried out by women: quiet acts of sacrifice, sustenance, and love.

Whether or not my work is recognized, I’m proud of what I created. The images are more than just an essay—it’s a moment suspended between tradition and transformation.

Thank you to the bride for letting me witness it. And thank you to those who make space for strange, sacred stories to be told 🌱