rates:
small, local weddings {500.00}
package includes:
One Photographer
Wedding Ceremony, Portraits, and Reception Coverage
Disc(s) of 250 High Resolution Images with Copyright Release
options to add to your package
full event coverage: +200.00
Rehearsal coverage: +100.00
prints: 50% off store prices
Hi, we're Steve & Katie King, a husband and wife photography street team. We love seeing seriously happy people. Yes, we cover Weddings, Families, Bands, Businesses, etc.
We are based in the Gulf Coast Area of Southern Mississippi, but we always love a good trip. We have family in Arizona, Colorado, and are especially partial to shooting weddings there. We may even throw in a special discount for destination weddings in Alaska, Norway, Nepal, New England, Switzerland or Iceland.
home, a moving target
by katie king
my suitcase hitting every crack on the sidewalk while walking down andersonville at midnight
that damn wonderful mississippi night owl, wooing us from outside our bedroom window on morrison ave,
the 26 pounds of brown & white fur curled up by my ribcage in the mornings
the sweaty walk to school in heredia post papaya
homesickness: twice. both in 2011:
i- Chicago, a city I had a large crush on. I arrived on Sep 4th, the same day Oprah did but not the same year and slept in my car on the streets for two nights with a rhodesian ridgeback in my lap, and a sense of happiness that seemed like it could mean something.
ii- Guam, because it housed the place where I could find his arms and the seven years spent in and outside of them. Not to mention the young pumpkin in the backyard, the wedding album in the living room, the series of romantic cornball polaroids lining the wall, the fruit juicer in the kitchen and the strange pure idyllic merriment in spite of a slowly slipping hell.
electric blankets
hearing the doorbell ring in the heat of a denver august
the internet, the invisible world
5262527
mom
I 70 & I 80
q. "is it safe to go out after 6 pm" Age: 21.
location: 96th street | upper west side
relationship of interrogated: husband
150 + plane flights
shyla's couch
heather's lawn chair
pasta, the dog not the dish
swiss cowbells
the creaking of the evergreen tree too late at night and too heavy for the morning
tall trees. tall buildings. tall men.
leggy sky
my very first movers, signing the lease papers, a 3BD castle with a view and watching Steven shower in the the gutter run off on a particularly rainy day
movement & the rush rush parade
lost items: purses, cell phones, the dirt that piles up in the bottom of your purse that you feel with your fingernails when you are trying to get to your favorite chapstick.
that piano I spent 9 years on ::heated & muffled chords <--- [if there are roots to be had they would be found here]
the place under the antique bench, pressing the pedal for my sister when she nodded her head.
the blood stain where my first dog was run over
pike's peak
the mint my brother & I planted in the front yard
chris & sara
childhood home; the belief that a warm english breakfast tea and three tablespoons of sugar can get you through the woods, or at least to them.
waking up to snow
hostels. hostels in the bernese oberland, in ireland, flagstaff, lautrubrunnen valley, london, costa rica, new york city, hostels with guitars in them, with rock gym/ foot oder in them, hostels that charge you 1CHF for a 5 minute shower, check in check out, hostels with communal meals in them, hostels with kids and families in them, hostels that throw parties with hot tub heidis in them.
mail.
those 6 weeks in the spring of 2009 I lived in various navy hotels, washing plastic tupperware in the sink, sharing half ramen rations and the 9 months sleeping on the floor afterwards.
the stomping grounds of unfamiliar head spaces
being a newlywed at 8 1/2 Glorietta Lane w/ with orange ice cream smoothies in bed served by a naked chef in the mornings
unusual insensitivity to change of surroundings, natural unmindfulness
camera on the car dashboard. out the window. under the armpit.
anywhere within at least a 45 minute radius of joel
the rootless itinerant. the transplant game
i. begin:
ii. I'm a colorado springs-austin-flagstaff-seattle-girdwood-lugano-heredia-london-olympia-gimmelwald-tuscon-san diego-virginia beach-new york city-biloxi-guam-san francisco-new york city transplant.
iii. begin again
iv. send the flood
solo visits to churches on sunday mornings
that 7 hour china bus ride and the songs I wrote during a 3 hour maintenance delay
walking the path to the 18th hole (with my eyes closed), past the red velvet poppies (with their eyes closed), towards the house with the light on.
a blank piece of paper and a ballpoint pen
the warm smell of the new york city subways
phonecalls to tiffany
takeoff
by katie king
my suitcase hitting every crack on the sidewalk while walking down andersonville at midnight
that damn wonderful mississippi night owl, wooing us from outside our bedroom window on morrison ave,
the 26 pounds of brown & white fur curled up by my ribcage in the mornings
the sweaty walk to school in heredia post papaya
homesickness: twice. both in 2011:
i- Chicago, a city I had a large crush on. I arrived on Sep 4th, the same day Oprah did but not the same year and slept in my car on the streets for two nights with a rhodesian ridgeback in my lap, and a sense of happiness that seemed like it could mean something.
ii- Guam, because it housed the place where I could find his arms and the seven years spent in and outside of them. Not to mention the young pumpkin in the backyard, the wedding album in the living room, the series of romantic cornball polaroids lining the wall, the fruit juicer in the kitchen and the strange pure idyllic merriment in spite of a slowly slipping hell.
electric blankets
hearing the doorbell ring in the heat of a denver august
the internet, the invisible world
5262527
mom
I 70 & I 80
q. "is it safe to go out after 6 pm" Age: 21.
location: 96th street | upper west side
relationship of interrogated: husband
150 + plane flights
shyla's couch
heather's lawn chair
pasta, the dog not the dish
swiss cowbells
the creaking of the evergreen tree too late at night and too heavy for the morning
tall trees. tall buildings. tall men.
leggy sky
my very first movers, signing the lease papers, a 3BD castle with a view and watching Steven shower in the the gutter run off on a particularly rainy day
movement & the rush rush parade
lost items: purses, cell phones, the dirt that piles up in the bottom of your purse that you feel with your fingernails when you are trying to get to your favorite chapstick.
that piano I spent 9 years on ::heated & muffled chords <--- [if there are roots to be had they would be found here]
the place under the antique bench, pressing the pedal for my sister when she nodded her head.
the blood stain where my first dog was run over
pike's peak
the mint my brother & I planted in the front yard
chris & sara
childhood home; the belief that a warm english breakfast tea and three tablespoons of sugar can get you through the woods, or at least to them.
waking up to snow
hostels. hostels in the bernese oberland, in ireland, flagstaff, lautrubrunnen valley, london, costa rica, new york city, hostels with guitars in them, with rock gym/ foot oder in them, hostels that charge you 1CHF for a 5 minute shower, check in check out, hostels with communal meals in them, hostels with kids and families in them, hostels that throw parties with hot tub heidis in them.
mail.
those 6 weeks in the spring of 2009 I lived in various navy hotels, washing plastic tupperware in the sink, sharing half ramen rations and the 9 months sleeping on the floor afterwards.
the stomping grounds of unfamiliar head spaces
being a newlywed at 8 1/2 Glorietta Lane w/ with orange ice cream smoothies in bed served by a naked chef in the mornings
unusual insensitivity to change of surroundings, natural unmindfulness
camera on the car dashboard. out the window. under the armpit.
anywhere within at least a 45 minute radius of joel
the rootless itinerant. the transplant game
i. begin:
ii. I'm a colorado springs-austin-flagstaff-seattle-girdwood-lugano-heredia-london-olympia-gimmelwald-tuscon-san diego-virginia beach-new york city-biloxi-guam-san francisco-new york city transplant.
iii. begin again
iv. send the flood
solo visits to churches on sunday mornings
that 7 hour china bus ride and the songs I wrote during a 3 hour maintenance delay
walking the path to the 18th hole (with my eyes closed), past the red velvet poppies (with their eyes closed), towards the house with the light on.
a blank piece of paper and a ballpoint pen
the warm smell of the new york city subways
phonecalls to tiffany
takeoff
a photo-documentary on daytrotter studios
photography & text copyright Katie King, 2011
post editing & web work by Kimball Denetso
photography & text copyright Katie King, 2011
post editing & web work by Kimball Denetso
screen play
Scene:
(+ look through all notes)
There are a few scenes here. We're going through a relationship sequence, A disorientation scene, a childhood sequence. Maybe More.
Frank: "
++
I was in bed stuy and covered in blood, sweat & cum. The night before I was wearing a mask and getting a cock shoved down my throat but this was all welcomed in a warped sort of way. Where the back of your mind knows that you are entering a room of danger and you accept this but you have no idea who it will belong to and what corner it will come from. I was in new york city. For the third time in three years. And instead of it really feeling like home it felt like a good friend's house, one which you would want to return to often to press the reset button. Less a home and more of a place to touch down where you feel like you belong, and could stay forever if you wanted to. But you know you won't. It's less like a home and more like a rest stop. Presently.
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