I’ve captured some dramatic events on film. One of them was a riot. Literally. After the Canucks lost the Stanley Cup finals in 2011, a furious mob swept through downtown Vancouver. Windows got smashed. People got in fights. Glass and debris littered the streets. And yes, a police car was set on fire.

I’m not an adrenaline junkie. My thirst for self-endangerment doesn’t go much further than the ski slopes. But when there’s a lot on the line, and every new moment crackles with the unpredictable—when you know an event is going to leave a mark on people’s memories for years to come—I can’t help but tell the story.

I’ve been lucky enough to shoot college football finals and backcountry pheasant hunts, historic cathedrals and wild grizzly bears, DJ sets and solar eclipses. I’ve also been lucky enough to shoot a lot of weddings and engagements.

Two families, two groups of friends, coming together for two people—on a day that only happens once: Usually, nothing gets set on fire. But every one of those once-in-a-lifetime days is its own kind of riot. A riot of unpredictable passions and movement, moments and emotions, shaped by the people create it.

And I can’t help but tell the story.